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Great-great-great grandfather's civil war musket. The wood was chipped and faded, and the bayonet was long since lost.

"This could fetch a fine price on eBay, or maybe even Pawn Stars," Gary said out loud, even though his apartment hadn't seen a guest in years.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Damn solicitors."

Gary lurched out of his chair and staggered to the door. He fumbled with the doorknob for a few seconds.

"Damn whiskey," he muttered.

Gary finally grasped the handle and opened the door.
"Have you ever thought about the eternity?", asked one of the two men at the door. They both were well-dressed in dark suits; the one who had spoken had the youthful air of someone to whom the thirties' crisis was still years away, while the silent one was an amiable man in midway to his forties.

Gary had never been a spiritual man, and wasn't about to buy what they were selling. Wordlessly, he moved to close the door.

The door bumped into a well-polished leather shoe.
 
penis.

Thankfully, the pain had receded. For now, anyway. It'll be back, he knew; only a matter of time. Doctors have been battling genital herpes for a hundred years and made zero progress, and there was nothing to make him believe it would happen anytime soon.

This was his burden to bear, and of all the consequences that could befall a man whose lifestyle which on a good day would be termed as degenerate, and on which most days the term 'drug-fueled sex romp' only covered the time up until lunch, well, things could be worse. A lot worse.

Weary, but satisfied, he picked up the remote control and flicked on the TV. His jaw immediately fell, the remote clattered to the floor. The horrific sight on the screen, he could not fully describe with words. It was a

n assortment of colorful balks, one aside the next. Grey, yellow, turquoise, green, purple, red, blue.

He was used to seeing various colorful balks on screen. One could say his job was partly about being able to read and comprehend such balks and what they represented. Being successful in his line of business meant he would need to be able to read such things from them that others couldn't. And Gary was very successful in his business.

Yet, these balks stood there like they were mocking him, representing nothing. Like Ozymandian pillars, the weight of decades looked down on him from those standing balks. For several weeks, Gary had been finessing a nationwide deal on HDTV broadcast rights. The analog test pattern glowing on the screen signaled the floor being, figuratively speaking, removed from under his feet.
 
gentlemen, to bed. for we rise at 9:30.
Timestamp in my time: 9:38.

Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, (pause for laughter), eat a lump of cold poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad would kill us, and dance about on our graves singing "Hallelujah."
 
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