Chris pulled a small notepad from a pocket lining the inside of his jacket. He opened it, putting it on the table before him. He frowned, patting his outside pockets, before pulling out a stubby pencil that looked like it’d been gnawed on repeatedly. “Okay,” he said, opening the notepad to a fresh sheet of paper. “The meeting to get Gordo laid can now commence.
-T.J. Klune
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