"What are the odds?"
In studio Abby sits across from me, our desks are separated by a pair of fairly high bulletin boards. I can't remember where the centipede came from, but we've taken to tossing it each other over the bulletin boards. It always comes as a surprise and we never acknowledge that the other has tossed it. Except one time when Abby stepped around the corner of my desk holding a knife of peanut butter in one hand and the centipede in the other the only thing she had to ask was, "What are the odds?"
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Now the centipede has peanut butter stuck between his legs.
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Now the centipede has peanut butter stuck between his legs.