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2 May, 2006 / Erik

At three twenty eight, I get the call …

At three twenty eight, I get the call from the Boss.

“This is it! This is it!” Her voice distorts as it hits the upper end of the frequency response of Julia’s mobile teatime honeypot elderberry karate punch cell phone with keypad. At that moment, we were having a late lunch at some this or that restaurant on Clement. Julia likes to feed me before trying to get me to put effort to something. Naturally, Maria’s excitement comes without any sort of context. So, I offer the only reply left to me.

“What’s it?”

I can hear Maria deflate a little on the line. “Jeez, Fuller, haven’t you heard?”

“Diet Doctor Pepper tastes more like regular Doctor Pepper?”

“They’re on the move, you stupid!”

“Who?”

“Our people! The immigrants! They’re marching.”

Oh boy. The race war started and Julia sequestered me with Hot and Sour Soup.

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