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<title>The Homestuck Epilogues: Meat - Chapter 29</title>
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<div id='s29'></div>
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<h1>Chapter 29</h1>
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<div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm line-caption line-copy pad-x-0 pad-x-lg pad-b-lg">
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm">T</span>he
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elevator to jane’s office opens, and she stumbles inside. the last
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traces of trickster mode are bleeding off her aura. the great gift
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of this sacred boon has run its course for the evening, and though
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she is not as grateful as she should be, she nevertheless
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acknowledges the extraordinary benefit it has afforded her with a
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slight nod to the mirror. she pulls a hand through her hair,
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watching in the reflection as the last of the pink coloration fades
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to black.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">she has been campaigning this way for some
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time now. in fact, it’s been over a week since she was last seen in
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public without the aura bestowed to her by the divine lollipop
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juju. there are many benefits to trickster mode, in that it imbues
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one with an endless supply of enthusiasm and supernatural
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positivity. additionally, it prevents one from dwelling on any
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given personal problems, or the greater implications of any
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political statements one might make.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">however, while a great portion of the
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electorate adores jane’s elevated sense of charisma and presence
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when she is in trickster mode, as they should, there are just as
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many detractors who claim that the whole thing is “extremely
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problematic.” i doubt this is true but must also acknowledge it
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exceeds the scope of my expertise to comment on the subject.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: Oh my goodness.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: It’s NOT problematic!</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jane erupts, alone in the
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elevator, seemingly talking to herself. she appears to be
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responding to her own inner monologue, which i, admittedly, am
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presently conducting. she appears to agree with me on this matter.
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the juju has truly blessed her with great wisdom.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: I have endured this argument for years, and I
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honestly cannot see a single thing about it that could be even
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thinly construed as <em>problematic</em>.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Furthermore, despite the fact that I
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emphatically do <em>not</em> find it to be problematic, I have in
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the past politely refrained from indulging in the profane pleasures
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of the Trickster Lollipop out of respect for those who do find
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offense with it.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: However, citizens of the Human Kingdom
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delight in my Tricksy antics, and what kind of politician would I
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be if I were to deny my core voting demographic that sort of red
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meat?</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Or... candy, I suppose.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: To imply that I am superciliously and
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recklessly stoking potentially dangerous cultural fires is honestly
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an insult.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: I am guilty of only one crime: energizing my
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base!</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she is saying it better than i
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could possibly say it myself. it is unusually gratifying to witness
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a human with such high regard for hallowed cultural artifacts and
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the unparalleled blessings they bestow upon lesser beings.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: Wait, who am I talking to?</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jane rubs her eyes under her
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glasses and groans. trickster mode is also quite exhausting. what a
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strange quirk of human biology that excess euphoria must
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necessarily be followed by crippling despair. she carelessly tosses
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the lollipop on the floor, lurches toward her desk...</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">no.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">she turns around promptly, her body jolted
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by the surprise of her sudden reversal. she bends over, cradles the
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lollipop reverentially, and situates it carefully in a place
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signifying respect: atop the mantle, after clearing space for it by
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shoving several brittle, worthless objects to the floor.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">only then does she drag herself to her
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desk, her legs shaking as if she has just run a great distance.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">the moment she sits down, her phone begins
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to ring.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: Yes?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Yo, don’t spend too much time in Trickster
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Mode.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Is that all you have to say?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: In general? Not by a long shot.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: But pertaining to this specific issue, yeah,
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because you should know better.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: At this rate you’re going you’ll burn
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yourself out before we even go to the ballots.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Can you just trust me on this, for once? I’m
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a bit too preoccupied at this exact moment to turn my chair
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backwards and rap at you about the dangers of dope.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: I know what I’m doing, Dirk.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Do I need to remind you that all of this was
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initially my idea?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: In that case, how about we tap into some of
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that outrageous political acumen of yours, dial back on the manic
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pixie dream candidate bullshit, and focus a little more on
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substantive policy speeches.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Oh come <em>on</em>, Dirk. Both you and I
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know that isn’t how politics works.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, you’re right. I can’t believe I
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actually said that with a straight face.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: You say everything with a straight face.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Another fair point.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: See, Jane? This is why you’re going to clean
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his fucking clock in the debates.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: All I’m saying is, there are better ways to
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go about unscrupulously manipulating the electorate than burning
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through your entire lifetime’s supply of dopamine.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Like, perhaps, gaining the ever-vaunted
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endorsement of one Jake English?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Exactly.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: You know, the last time we spoke about this
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issue I could have sworn you asked me to let <em>you</em> handle
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Jake.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Hmm.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: I guess I did say that.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: ...</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Dirk, are you doing quite okay?</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: It’s very unlike you to forget details like
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that.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m fine, Jane.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince is not fine. he is
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not the type who takes well to having his plans upended, or his
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control of a shared vehicle fully suppressed. my brother wasn’t
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much that type either.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh, fuck off. I’m nothing like that guy.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Huh?</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: What guy?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Uh.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Forget it. I was talking to someone else.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Who?</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Is someone else there with you?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: I... no. It’s nobody. Let’s just drop it,
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ok?</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead">yet, unfortunately for everyone
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in the corporeal realm, the prince isn’t the type to overlook the
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need for backup plans either. he devises contingencies for both
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success and failure. wheels within wheels, as he likes to
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imagine.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">in his workshop, the prince machinates,
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while the seer both diminishes and ascends. he is being careful to
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make sure the precise nature of his activity is obscure. he closes
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his mind to all observation. he scatters many stray parts across
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his worktable and busies himself with a variety of misleading
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mechanical tasks to hide the true intent of his schemes from
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me.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">but certain objects and actions strike me
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as more notable than others. that very long, red rifle on the
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table, for instance. a weapon that does not belong to him and has
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not been used in a long time. he has been returning to the rifle
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between his other menial activities of probable misdirection. he
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dismantles it, reassembles it, slides off the receiver cover to
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examine the firing mechanism.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">the prince clearly believes he is a very
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clever boy. my brother did too.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: (Christ.)</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: So, on the Jake issue,</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Unfortunately, my influence is a
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little...</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: “Limited” at the moment.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: What does that mean?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: A whole lot of bullshit that I don’t have the
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time or patience to explain right now.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: All you need to know is that I’m working on a
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solution. To both my problem and yours.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Until then, you should figure out how to get
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Jake to, at the very least, avoid taking a side.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Actually, I <em>have</em> been
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thinking...</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Perhaps this attempt to get Jake on our side
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is the wrong angle from which to approach this vexing problem.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Wouldn’t it be much easier to discredit or
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blackmail him?</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: He is much beloved in the Troll Kingdom for
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his carefully cultivated posterior, true.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: But we both know that his bottom is not the
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<em>only</em> intimate attribute for which he is famed amongst
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Trollish citizens.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: It would take almost nothing to expose his
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many dalliances through the human media.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Hoo boy.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: I know! Not to be judgmental, but his zipper
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is as loose as his pants are tight.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: That’s not what I meant by hoo boy.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: You don’t think it would work?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh, it could work.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: A certain illusion of boyish innocence is an
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important part of his brand.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: You contrast that innocence with the gyrating
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of his sinewy thighs, beaming raw, sweaty sexuality right into the
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camera on live TV five nights a week...</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: That’s what makes Jake English work as a
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marketable commodity. The tension between the two, the inherent
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friction there.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: He’s gotta look coy as all get-out. Like he
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has no idea how sexy he is. Like if you actually got him into bed,
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he’d completely disintegrate into a blushing mess of hesitation and
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sexless uncertainty.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Wow.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: I’ve never heard anything more preposterous
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in my life.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah. Well, his fans get off on it.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: So what’s the problem?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: The part of your plan that involves exposing
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his promiscuity with trolls in order to hurt his chances with the
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human vote.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: And thereby framing interspecies sex as an
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inherently scandalous thing.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: I dunno, Jane. That sounds pretty fucking
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xenophobic.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Auuugh!</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Not again!</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: What ISN’T xenophobic?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Well, for one thing, what you just said
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there?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Probably also xenophobic.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: WHAT?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Sorry, that’s just how it is.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: You either gotta roll with the woke shit, or
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decide to commit laborious, symbolic, melodramatic suicide in the
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process of utterly giving up.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: ??????????</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Yes.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: It is confusing.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: But that’s why you’re lucky to have me as
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your top advisor and strategist.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince appears to have
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discarded the pretense of misdirection at his worktable and is
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focused solely on the red rifle. he clicks the casing back into
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place. he sets the weapon on his shoulder so he can test the view
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through the scope. the setting sun bounces off the slick, red metal
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and slices a bar of light across the wall behind him.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: Sigh.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Dirk... do you want me to deal with Jake or
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not? You’ve offered nothing helpful yet, but you’ve shot down all
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my ideas.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: That’s because lately, all your ideas have
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been fucking terrible, Jane.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Seriously. You’ve got to quit the
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tricksterpop. It’s rotting your brain.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead">said the heathen. the cur. a
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true philistine. jane’s head swivels sharply to look at the juju on
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the mantle. she admires it longingly. piously. she will never
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relinquish her priceless boon, no matter what reprehensible lies
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the prince whispers into her ear.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: Then what do you want me to DO?</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: Play defense for a while. Like I said, I’ve
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got some cakes in the oven so to speak.</p>
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: But we can’t set them on the cooling plate
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just yet, so go make some fondant in the meantime.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jane frowns. the baking metaphor
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felt like one contrived purely for her benefit, and therefore
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condescending. and yet she hates how effective it was. she laments
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her own weakness for being so easily swayed by a well-delivered
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baking comparison. she lets the prince go, and begins making her
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own plans.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">in his workshop, the prince lines up an
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imaginary shot. he pulls the trigger, listening to the pieces
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within slide and click together in a satisfying concert of metallic
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sounds. impeccably assembled, perfectly greased. the gun is not
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loaded, but the shot goes off without a hitch.</p>
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<p class="calliope-dead">what do you think you’re up to,
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prince?</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: <span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom">Your
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ass is mine, Jake English.</span></p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he speaks under his breath
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inaudibly, perhaps frustrated, unaccustomed to scheming while
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others look over his shoulder. it’s possible he is not as bold, or
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as confident in his own designs as i believed.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="dirk">DIRK: I <em>fucking</em> said, your ass is mine,
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Jake English.</p>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</body>
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