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he screamed cache at the Little Boy, then decided to cache switch tactics. Obviously, terror and intimidation weren't working. "Hey, kid," he whispered conspiratorially, "you want some candy?" There was a long pause before the Little Boy answered. "What kind of candy?" The Fat Man dipped his hands into his pockets. His Hershey bar had melted from his body heat; thick cache black liquid dripped from the wrapper. Licking his fingers clean, he stuck one end of the candy bar under the door. "I got chocolate." He heard a tentative step approach the bathroom door. "My mom won't let me have candy. It's too fattening." "Well, she's not here now, is she?" asked the Fat Man. The Little Boy seemed to make up his mind at that, as the candy bar disappeared under the door. "There's plenty more where that came from," said the Fat Man. "It's all gooey," whined the Little Boy.
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