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return of the pokerduck of oblivion\\\

To: poker-night
From: electroblake
Subject: return of the pokerduck of oblivion\\\
Date: Thu, 29 Jun 2006 19:55:28 -0400

Jerrald the pokerduck had been in oblivion for too long.  He was
tired of going to all the same restaurants, getting drunk with all
the same old ghosts and spirits at the same old bars, and longed to
live in a more urban, modern environment where he might be able to
subscribe to digital cable television with up to 500 channels of 24
hour non stop moving picture entertainment instead of the piddly 100
channel digital cable he currently subscribed to.  Oblivion was just
No Fun, but the Devil of Oblivion, Mr. Fredrickson, was a real meany
and rarely let anyone leave.  Jerrald the pokerduck had only known of
one other being who had been granted a passport to leave oblivion,
and she was a Hot Girl who had to sleep with the Devil of Oblivion in
order to get it and everyone knew, or at least assumed, that the
Devil of Oblivion would not be sexually interested in a going on
middle aged pokerduck like Gerrald.  He would have to find some kind
of a witch, or maybe a warlock, or a really good computer programer
who could change him, temporarily into a Hot Girl who had a chance of
seducing the Devil of Oblivion, with the option of permanence if he
decided he liked it (of course).

Jerrald the pokerduck tried looking at craigslist oblivion for a
local witch or warlock to turn him into a Hot Chick, but then he
remembered that because he didn’t live in a more urban environment
his High Speed connection to the Internet wasn’t as high speed as it
could have been, and he suspected that other beings on his subnet
were using the bit torrent all of the time because his connection was
even slower, usually, than he felt it should be for the $30 a month
he was paying for the connection service.  Anyhow, these thoughts
made Jerrald the pokerduck very angry, and he threw his laptop
computer out of his fifth story apartment window.  The laptop had
been opened to nearly 170 degrees and it zipped through the air with
peculiar aerodynamic effects.  As if it were a boomerang the laptop
computer flew out!  up!  back down!  and through the window again,
nailing Jerrald the pokerduck right in the noggin, knocking him out

Jerrald woke up with a start.  She was covered in a cold sweat.  Her
ample bosom heaved as she breathed deeply through her bull and pouty
lips, her perfectly flat tummy moving up and down.  She felt a little
strange, having no idea where she was, or how she got there.  Then
she discovered she had a vagina and spend the next couple of hours
playing with it.  When she finally got out of bed and had a look at
herself in the mirror she was shocked.  While she couldn’t remember
much at all very clearly she was somewhat certain that she had not
been that Hot previously.  She stared, jaw gaping, and then went back
to the bedroom to play with herself some more.

The next morning Jerrald woke up in a wonderful mood.  She popped
right out of bed and into the shower.  She made herself up and got
out of the house.  Down at the local coffeehouse she was almost
immediately offered a modeling contract by a fashion designer who
happened to be in line behind her.  She tore up the application to
work as a barrista she had just picked up and hugged the fashion
designer.  Later, they made out, and later still she mothered six of
his children.  They lived happily ever after in his luxury condo with
high speed internet and 502 digital cable television channels.

Jerrald the pokerduck felt a little groggy.  He opened his eyes and
saw his laptop screen.  It was upside down.  It had a big crack in
it.  It was dawn.  The light was just starting to seep in through the
window.  Jerrald was still in oblivion.  He tried throwing the laptop
out the window again, but this time it just landed in the neighbors
yard and their giant man eating lizard pet started to gnaw on it.
Jerrald rummaged through the medicine cabinet for some pain
relievers. He couldn’t find any.  His head throbbed.  He tried
squeezing it.  He tried rubbing his temples.  He tried banging his
head against the tile floor.  That last one worked alright.  Then he
knocked himself out again, and fractured his skull ever so slightly,
and put a nice crack in one of the tiles.  Jerrald wasn’t transported
to any sort of magical fantasy life this time.  If he hadn’t died of
brain trauma, he probably would have woken to find himself passed out
on a couch at

Poker Night!

“first hand at nine”

Dangerhouse is XX XXXXXXXXX XX. #X in oblivious Somerville, MA.

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