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Chap 1.1 - Page 7frangles: Skip book 1: Writer's Bricks

           "Well that was unproductive.  'Toad frowned as if Skip's spoken phrase caused him an uncomfortable frwoa-vu that probably was a result of Skip saying something similar at least once already today.  Toad rudely shot Skip a glare as his needlessly alliterative narration of his discomfort bothered him even further.  Apparently there were more important things on Toad's mind than assisting with the retraining of the skills of the most pinnacle and Pulitzer Prize-worthy friter the known universe would ever--' "
           "Enough!  This is serious.  Unless your short-term memory has been fried too, I shouldn't have to remind you of the penalty for us if you fail to publish your first frwoa novel by 7:77 tonight.  You might enjoy narrating our situation into a comedic lump of mockery, but being bricked to death is no laughing matter.  I'd dive into a worfllan take on the ethical paradox of comedic satire juxtaposing a terrible looming death, but some smart-ass phylor would probably step right of the tot to correct me.  There's only one thing I can think of to do, Skip.  You have to get back on the train."
           "But why?  When these pet medications are exactly the same and cost a lot less.  And they're delivered right to your door!  Just call 1-800--"
           "Sorry.  Little intuitive non-sequiter comedic infringing situational irony humor."
           "Not helping.  Here it comes."  Skip realized he'd been following Toad without noting where they'd been heading, and they were now uselessly back at the train station Skip had originally stepped off of.
         "Here what comes?"
         "The tot!  The train of thought!  The Dawn of Time Train of Thought!  The dot tot!  I swear, Skip, lost forgotten dot tot or not, you still can't seem to absorb the simplest--"  The rest of the worflii's words were a muffled mumble as the weight of the crowd of tourists exiting the train inadvertently pushed Skip back onto it before Toad could even instruct him where he was going, what he was supposed to do when he got there, or how doing it could contribute to solving the greatest writer's crisis Skip had ever faced in his first seven mots as a sentient being.

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