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They’ve converted our room into a Chamber of Horrors with that Japanese sword fighting stuff. At first I thought that Will had rented the place out to a coven of witches, ya know, a bunch of crazies who mostly howled at the moon. Ah, I figured that these people must have convinced him that theirs was a social support group, albeit engaged in some innocuous mysterious rituals. But last Tuesday, when I heard frantic streams coming from in there, I figured there were animal sacrifices going on. I needed to investigate and maybe do something about it, so I stuck my head in the window next to Table # 1 for a look-see. To tell ya the truth, I couldn’t really see much; nobody even riding around on broom handles. Instead, I saw people dressed in medieval black attire holding swords. Turns out, the ruckus was coming from a bunch of samurai wannabes trying to kill each other. I mean they were chasing and whacking away pretty good. Kinda barbaric, if ya catch my drift here. Probably a few of them were getting injured, but no animals were getting their jugulars cut, as far as I could make out, so it didn’t bother me too much.
Well, I will say this for those engaged in this brutish anachronistic form of fighting: They were real good at cleaning up the gore. When we showed up the next day on Wednesday for Ping Pong Parkinson, I didn’t seen any bone fragments or blood stains anywhere. And, apparently, no one was killed, either. At least that’s what they said, and I didn’t see any corpses. But ... nobody checked the closets. Frankly, I’m afraid to look. Lao Du
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