The thunder god stared for a while, broken only by bouts of acute blinking. Chester A. Arthur XVII scratched his shoulder. Catrina scratched the back of her neck. “Is he OK?” Timmy wondered. “He’s just thinking,” explained Catrina. “Oh god,” said Queen Victoria XXX. “Should we help him?” “Give him a second. I think he can do it.
-Eirik Gumeny
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