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... until you and a bunch of people sitting around a nighttime campfire tripping on 'shrooms, simultaneously jump up and savagely beat on an approaching armadillo with large sticks only to realize their substance is that of rubber only to send the unfazed, overgrown rat-like creature waddling back towards the marshy edge of the bayou, to finally collect yourselves, to slowly gather back around the fire, one by one and ponder..... "did that really just happen"?
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