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October 19 2002 at 2:26 PM
Harbinger of Death 

The pleasant sounds of clinking silverware and easy chatter combined with the heavenly smells of fresh-baked goods and frying eggs in the diner where LizardKing, Aeaea, Stripe, TabuMinstrel, DreamTraveler, Eeyoraus, Hebea, Amyrlin and Owlharp sat one sunny fall day. They had gathered for an impromptu breakfast and were looking over the menu to decide what sounded good.

"French toast?" Eeyoraus wondered.

"I like grits," said Amyrlin.

"Oh no, oatmeal's better," Hebea asserted.

"Fried mush!" said TabuMinstrel.

"What's that?" asked Stripe.

"Deep-fried cornmeal patties, pretty much," Owlharp explained.

"No thanks," said LizardKing, making a face.

"Do they have biscuits and gravy?" DT asked, looking.

"Have you ever heard of a diner that didn't? Aeaea laughed.

Finally they all decided that what sounded best was eggs and toast. Some wanted scrambled, some over-easy, some sunny-side up. Some wanted bacon with it, some ham, some hash browns. They placed their order.

When their food came out, it all looked and smelled so good. They delved into their eggs hungrily and filled their bellies. SWOOSH.

"bok bok. What happened?"

"cluck. I don't know."

"Corn! Yum!" Peck, peck.

They wandered the yard, pecking at corn and generally not minding their present feathery state, when three foxes squeezed under the wire fence and attacked. Three hungry foxes had nine plump, tasty chickens for breakfast.
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