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Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.

Original:

The elf and the boo stare at Ely like he's the answer to life, the universe and everything.

That sort of omnipotent power would certainly make Ely's job much easier. He rubs the bridge of his nose and resents his past-self for turning down the cushion Miranda offered him before the meeting began. The wooden seat that had seemed so delightful on first sight is now digging uncomfortably into Ely's thighs. My kingdom for a moment's reprieve, he thinks sadly, and slaps the negotiation table with both palms.

"You're both speaking utter rubbish," Ely says.

Fanfic:

"I'm kinda picturing that right now," Stiles says, tilting his head. "Hi, sir, ma'am, we're here from your local animal clinic to spray liquid in your face."

"I don't think that would entirely help Deaton get more business."

"Couldn't hurt — it's totally Deaton's milkshake that brings all the bored forty-something housewives to your boss's clinic."

"My boss is hot," Scott deadpans. "Plus it's also the only animal clinic in town and the next nearest one is half an hour's drive the other side of Beacon City."

"That reason too," Stiles allows.

September 2015

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