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Tom:
[reading] Dear Tom and all the gang.
Wally: Didn't mean to spoil your Halloween, off to the hospital.
Jenny: Something about appendicitis. Don't worry, I'll catch up. Signed...
Tom, Wally, Jenny: Pip!
Tom: Appendicitis?
Wally: You could die from that, right?
Tom: P.S., start without me, I'll catch up. Ready. Set. Go?
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Moundshroud: One precious year from the far burnt-out candle end of your life? Think about this. You won't miss it NOW, but in sixty years, seventy-two or eighty, you might feel differently.