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“Ordinary claims require ordinary proof,” Flax McBlack said, gathering the folds of his brow into a knot to emphasize the wryness of his lonely wit. His buckskin cap sat limply on his head as he made his way alone toward the crystal mine. The professor didn’t have the pendant key and the professor didn’t know the secret of the prehistoric aliens.
The professor, Skippy Drek, stood at the mouth of the crystal cave, hands in pocket, bobbing his head like an imitation of an imitation of Dennis Miller. The sparkle of exposed quartz glittered all about him. “I haven’t seen this much glass since the party at Jor El’s pad.” The professor giggled to himself.
Flax wasn’t laughing; Krypton was a tragedy.
Date Written: May 16, 2003
Author: Ewan Snow
Average Vote: 4