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Only for you, children of doctrine and learning, have I written this work. Examine this article, ponder the meaning I have dispersed in various places and gathered again; what I have concealed in one place I have disclosed in another, that it may be understood by your wisdom.

Sitting here, with my veins exposed and ravaged open, literally drowning in my own blood, sweat, and tears, I remember times of my childhood and innocence. These were times before I learned the secret. These were times when drinking was merry at the Maverick Table, friends were friends, lovers were lovers, blue java was served with a smile at the Aromatic Cafe, and small, fuzzy creatures from Eroticon VI were really small, fuzzy creatures from Eroticon VI.

What were the Shed and I thinking at the time? How could we be so foolish as to call attention to ourselves in so violent a manner?

These Questions have haunted me day and night for these past two wretched weeks of constant fear and loathing.

But it is with immense sacrifice that I have called upon myself to write this...

I shall not digress any longer. I am lost, but I have not gone without doing at least one good deed in my life. This could very well be that one deed, but it no longer makes a difference.

Let us begin from the beginning:

Becky was, simply put, gorgeous. She was an intellectual. She had a personality. She had a heart. In conclusion, she was perfect in my eyes. I loved everything about her, and what made the situation hundreds of times more favorable, was that she felt the same for me.

Ecstatic, I hitched a ride to the h2g2 Legs, took a seat at my beloved Maverick Table, and ordered a dangerously large number of stouts and stiff drinks. Alas, now I had good reason to celebrate!

Around one o' clock in the morning, having reached a point beyond mere tipsiness, I decided to venture outside the bar and see how my good friend, the Semiotics Lecturing Shed, was doing.

he replied, acting more pretentious than usual.
'Tell me, my dear Yossarian... What do you know about the Knights Templar?'

I had definitely heard of them in brief by some raving lunatic whilst I was vacationing in Beta Centauri, but I could come to no specifics. The more I searched in the murky depths of the back of my mind, the less chance I had of remembering anything more than that they were hairy French warriors who lived around A.D. 1000.
'I've heard of them before, yet I know not of their significance.'

I replied, satisfied with my answer seeing as how my vision had been blurred and my speech handicapped by the immense level of intoxicating beverages I had consumed minutes earlier.

The Shed grinned.

I frowned in a nervous manner, for I had seen that smile before, and no good had ever come of it.

To be Continued...

Yossarian Prefect

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