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Story No. 36589
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The psychics name was Geraldine. Not very exotic, but neither was her flat. Suburban orange carpet and cream walls, very 70s, very cheap. She ushered me in through the front door and offered me a
drink. Sure, I answered. "Alcohol"? I nodded again. "Would you like methyl, or ethyl?"
You say potatoo, I say potatoe who cares who has the better accent? However the choice of chemical was important, because
it symbolised that something suspicious had occurred, even though the scene appeared to be quite innocent. Also, the headless corpse tucked away in the corner was a bit of a giveaway. Sucking on his pipe he announced
that everyone in the room would be executed the next morning 7.30 am, and that everyone had to
check if they had something valuable between their teeth.
