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The shameful but required return to Redmond Cave. It was a cold November morning, leaves covered the now yellowed grass, the dog's water stood frozen, two little winter birds fluffed their feathers while sitting on a low tree branch outside my kitchen window and the smell of coffee began to fill my nostrils telling me that it's time to quell my yawns. The cold stillness of that serenity broke when I heard a blood-curdling scream from the depths of one of the caves at the other end of the house. A sound so irritating that it burned through my head like a laser beam. It was the cry of an Ubuntu Spelunker, a cave dweller, whose frustrations had left him on the brink of performing a river dance (clogs and all) upon the laptop that kindled his anger
It was a cold November morning, leaves covered the now yellowed grass, the dog's water stood frozen, two little winter birds fluffed their feathers while sitting on a low tree branch outside my kitchen window and the smell of coffee began to fill my nostrils telling me that it's time to quell my yawns. The cold stillness of that serenity broke when I heard a blood-curdling scream from the depths of one of the caves at the other end of the house. A sound so irritating that it burned through my head like a laser beam. It was the cry of an Ubuntu Spelunker, a cave dweller, whose frustrations had left him on the brink of performing a river dance (clogs and all) upon the laptop that kindled his anger
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