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[008] DrStarky Current Version
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\\\"Here it is, a beautiful day outside and your boyfriend has to drag you to some godawful wax museum in the dingiest recesses of town. Why anyone would find this creepy place entertaining is beyond you... although you have to admit, the wax figurines here do look \\\'\\\'awfully\\\'\\\' lifelike. It\\\'s almost like they\\\'re living, breathing human beings...

...only they\\\'re not living and breathing... and they couldn\\\'t be human beings...

...could they?

Oh great. Here comes [[MadArtist that creepy museum curator]] again, the guy in the short black cape with the gloved, disfigured hands and the acid burns on his face... What\\\'s that? He says you look a lot like Marie Antoinette? Eww. You don\\\'t like the way he\\\'s looking you over. Now he\\\'s lifting up your chin and... is that a \\\'\\\'caliper\\\'\\\' he\\\'s using to measure your nose?

You [[WalkingBackwards back away]] as your boyfriend comes up to you from behind, nearly scaring you to death. \\\"Hey,\\\" he says, \\\"you see that statue of Joan of Arc over there? Doesn\\\'t it look a lot like your friend Stacey who mysteriously disappeared last week and whom the police haven\\\'t been able to find yet? And didn\\\'t she say she\\\'d gone to visit this museum just the week before? Huh. What a coincidence.\\\"

Yeah. \\\'\\\'A coincidence.\\\'\\\' That\\\'s it, you sigh. Next time the two of you go out for a romantic afternoon outing, you\\\'re going to tour someplace that\\\'s waaay less disturbing than this... like a slaughterhouse, or the County Morgue...

Little do the two of you know, the Museum you\\\'re visiting is \\\'\\\'already\\\'\\\' a morgue of sorts. Sure, the museum curator with the disfigured hands says he only supervises and that it\\\'s his big hulking assistant who does all of the actual molding and casting of the figurines, but you\\\'ve seen the assistant guy. He barely has two brain cells to rub together. Just how could a brute like him create beautiful, lifelike replicas of historical human figures?

...Maybe, he\\\'s not \\\'\\\'creating\\\'\\\' anything... \\\'\\\'(cue shudder)\\\'\\\'\\\"
[[/folder]]
Next time, just cut to chase a tell us what the trope is without a writing a short story.
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\\\"Here it is, a beautiful day outside and your boyfriend has to drag you to some godawful wax museum in the dingiest recesses of town. Why anyone would find this creepy place entertaining is beyond you... although you have to admit, the wax figurines here do look \\\'\\\'awfully\\\'\\\' lifelike. It\\\'s almost like they\\\'re living, breathing human beings...

...only they\\\'re not living and breathing... and they couldn\\\'t be human beings...

...could they?

Oh great. Here comes [[MadArtist that creepy museum curator]] again, the guy in the short black cape with the gloved, disfigured hands and the acid burns on his face... What\\\'s that? He says you look a lot like Marie Antoinette? Eww. You don\\\'t like the way he\\\'s looking you over. Now he\\\'s lifting up your chin and... is that a \\\'\\\'caliper\\\'\\\' he\\\'s using to measure your nose?

You [[WalkingBackwards back away]] as your boyfriend comes up to you from behind, nearly scaring you to death. \\\"Hey,\\\" he says, \\\"you see that statue of Joan of Arc over there? Doesn\\\'t it look a lot like your friend Stacey who mysteriously disappeared last week and whom the police haven\\\'t been able to find yet? And didn\\\'t she say she\\\'d gone to visit this museum just the week before? Huh. What a coincidence.\\\"

Yeah. \\\'\\\'A coincidence.\\\'\\\' That\\\'s it, you sigh. Next time the two of you go out for a romantic afternoon outing, you\\\'re going to tour someplace that\\\'s waaay less disturbing than this... like a slaughterhouse, or the County Morgue...

Little do the two of you know, the Museum you\\\'re visiting is \\\'\\\'already\\\'\\\' a morgue of sorts. Sure, the museum curator with the disfigured hands says he only supervises and that it\\\'s his big hulking assistant who does all of the actual molding and casting of the figurines, but you\\\'ve seen the assistant guy. He barely has two brain cells to rub together. Just how could a brute like him create beautiful, lifelike replicas of historical human figures?

...Maybe, he\\\'s not \\\'\\\'creating\\\'\\\' anything... \\\'\\\'(cue shudder)\\\'\\\'\\\"
[[/folder]]
Next time, just cut to chase a tell us what the trope is without a writing a short story.
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\\\"Here it is, a beautiful day outside and your boyfriend has to drag you to some godawful wax museum in the dingiest recesses of town. Why anyone would find this creepy place entertaining is beyond you... although you have to admit, the wax figurines here do look \\\'\\\'awfully\\\'\\\' lifelike. It\\\'s almost like they\\\'re living, breathing human beings...

...only they\\\'re not living and breathing... and they couldn\\\'t be human beings...

...could they?

Oh great. Here comes [[MadArtist that creepy museum curator]] again, the guy in the short black cape with the gloved, disfigured hands and the acid burns on his face... What\\\'s that? He says you look a lot like Marie Antoinette? Eww. You don\\\'t like the way he\\\'s looking you over. Now he\\\'s lifting up your chin and... is that a \\\'\\\'caliper\\\'\\\' he\\\'s using to measure your nose?

You [[WalkingBackwards back away]] as your boyfriend comes up to you from behind, nearly scaring you to death. \\\"Hey,\\\" he says, \\\"you see that statue of Joan of Arc over there? Doesn\\\'t it look a lot like your friend Stacey who mysteriously disappeared last week and whom the police haven\\\'t been able to find yet? And didn\\\'t she say she\\\'d gone to visit this museum just the week before? Huh. What a coincidence.\\\"

Yeah. \\\'\\\'A coincidence.\\\'\\\' That\\\'s it, you sigh. Next time the two of you go out for a romantic afternoon outing, you\\\'re going to tour someplace that\\\'s waaay less disturbing than this... like a slaughterhouse, or the County Morgue...

Little do the two of you know, the Museum you\\\'re visiting is \\\'\\\'already\\\'\\\' a morgue of sorts. Sure, the museum curator with the disfigured hands says he only supervises and that it\\\'s his big hulking assistant who does all of the actual molding and casting of the figurines, but you\\\'ve seen the assistant guy. He barely has two brain cells to rub together. Just how could a brute like him create beautiful, lifelike replicas of historical human figures?

...Maybe, he\\\'s not \\\'\\\'creating\\\'\\\' anything... \\\'\\\'(cue shudder)\\\'\\\'\\\"
[[/folder]]
Next time, just cut to chase a tell us what the trope is without a writing a short story.
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[[/folder control]]
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n
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to:
\\\"Here it is, a beautiful day outside and your boyfriend has to drag you to some godawful wax museum in the dingiest recesses of town. Why anyone would find this creepy place entertaining is beyond you... although you have to admit, the wax figurines here do look \\\'\\\'awfully\\\'\\\' lifelike. It\\\'s almost like they\\\'re living, breathing human beings...

...only they\\\'re not living and breathing... and they couldn\\\'t be human beings...

...could they?

Oh great. Here comes [[MadArtist that creepy museum curator]] again, the guy in the short black cape with the gloved, disfigured hands and the acid burns on his face... What\\\'s that? He says you look a lot like Marie Antoinette? Eww. You don\\\'t like the way he\\\'s looking you over. Now he\\\'s lifting up your chin and... is that a \\\'\\\'caliper\\\'\\\' he\\\'s using to measure your nose?

You [[WalkingBackwards back away]] as your boyfriend comes up to you from behind, nearly scaring you to death. \\\"Hey,\\\" he says, \\\"you see that statue of Joan of Arc over there? Doesn\\\'t it look a lot like your friend Stacey who mysteriously disappeared last week and whom the police haven\\\'t been able to find yet? And didn\\\'t she say she\\\'d gone to visit this museum just the week before? Huh. What a coincidence.\\\"

Yeah. \\\'\\\'A coincidence.\\\'\\\' That\\\'s it, you sigh. Next time the two of you go out for a romantic afternoon outing, you\\\'re going to tour someplace that\\\'s waaay less disturbing than this... like a slaughterhouse, or the County Morgue...

Little do the two of you know, the Museum you\\\'re visiting is \\\'\\\'already\\\'\\\' a morgue of sorts. Sure, the museum curator with the disfigured hands says he only supervises and that it\\\'s his big hulking assistant who does all of the actual molding and casting of the figurines, but you\\\'ve seen the assistant guy. He barely has two brain cells to rub together. Just how could a brute like him create beautiful, lifelike replicas of historical human figures?

...Maybe, he\\\'s not \\\'\\\'creating\\\'\\\' anything... \\\'\\\'(cue shudder)\\\'\\\'\\\"
[[/folder]]
Next time, just cut to chase a tell us what the trope is without a writing a short story.
Changed line(s) 5 from:
n
\
to:
\\\"Here it is, a beautiful day outside and your boyfriend has to drag you to some godawful wax museum in the dingiest recesses of town. Why anyone would find this creepy place entertaining is beyond you... although you have to admit, the wax figurines here do look \\\'\\\'awfully\\\'\\\' lifelike. It\\\'s almost like they\\\'re living, breathing human beings...

...only they\\\'re not living and breathing... and they couldn\\\'t be human beings...

...could they?

Oh great. Here comes [[MadArtist that creepy museum curator]] again, the guy in the short black cape with the gloved, disfigured hands and the acid burns on his face... What\\\'s that? He says you look a lot like Marie Antoinette? Eww. You don\\\'t like the way he\\\'s looking you over. Now he\\\'s lifting up your chin and... is that a \\\'\\\'caliper\\\'\\\' he\\\'s using to measure your nose?

You [[WalkingBackwards back away]] as your boyfriend comes up to you from behind, nearly scaring you to death. \\\"Hey,\\\" he says, \\\"you see that statue of Joan of Arc over there? Doesn\\\'t it look a lot like your friend Stacey who mysteriously disappeared last week and whom the police haven\\\'t been able to find yet? And didn\\\'t she say she\\\'d gone to visit this museum just the week before? Huh. What a coincidence.\\\"

Yeah. \\\'\\\'A coincidence.\\\'\\\' That\\\'s it, you sigh. Next time the two of you go out for a romantic afternoon outing, you\\\'re going to tour someplace that\\\'s waaay less disturbing than this... like a slaughterhouse, or the County Morgue...

Little do the two of you know, the Museum you\\\'re visiting is \\\'\\\'already\\\'\\\' a morgue of sorts. Sure, the museum curator with the disfigured hands says he only supervises and that it\\\'s his big hulking assistant who does all of the actual molding and casting of the figurines, but you\\\'ve seen the assistant guy. He barely has two brain cells to rub together. Just how could a brute like him create beautiful, lifelike replicas of historical human figures?

...Maybe, he\\\'s not \\\'\\\'creating\\\'\\\' anything... \\\'\\\'(cue shudder)\\\'\\\'\\\"
[[/folder]]
Next time, just cut to chase a tell us what the trope is without a writing a short story.
Changed line(s) 5 from:
n
\
to:
\\\"Here it is, a beautiful day outside and your boyfriend has to drag you to some godawful wax museum in the dingiest recesses of town. Why anyone would find this creepy place entertaining is beyond you... although you have to admit, the wax figurines here do look \\\'\\\'awfully\\\'\\\' lifelike. It\\\'s almost like they\\\'re living, breathing human beings...

...only they\\\'re not living and breathing... and they couldn\\\'t be human beings...

...could they?

Oh great. Here comes [[MadArtist that creepy museum curator]] again, the guy in the short black cape with the gloved, disfigured hands and the acid burns on his face... What\\\'s that? He says you look a lot like Marie Antoinette? Eww. You don\\\'t like the way he\\\'s looking you over. Now he\\\'s lifting up your chin and... is that a \\\'\\\'caliper\\\'\\\' he\\\'s using to measure your nose?

You [[WalkingBackwards back away]] as your boyfriend comes up to you from behind, nearly scaring you to death. \\\"Hey,\\\" he says, \\\"you see that statue of Joan of Arc over there? Doesn\\\'t it look a lot like your friend Stacey who mysteriously disappeared last week and whom the police haven\\\'t been able to find yet? And didn\\\'t she say she\\\'d gone to visit this museum just the week before? Huh. What a coincidence.\\\"

Yeah. \\\'\\\'A coincidence.\\\'\\\' That\\\'s it, you sigh. Next time the two of you go out for a romantic afternoon outing, you\\\'re going to tour someplace that\\\'s waaay less disturbing than this... like a slaughterhouse, or the County Morgue...

Little do the two of you know, the Museum you\\\'re visiting is \\\'\\\'already\\\'\\\' a morgue of sorts. Sure, the museum curator with the disfigured hands says he only supervises and that it\\\'s his big hulking assistant who does all of the actual molding and casting of the figurines, but you\\\'ve seen the assistant guy. He barely has two brain cells to rub together. Just how could a brute like him create beautiful, lifelike replicas of historical human figures?

...Maybe, he\\\'s not \\\'\\\'creating\\\'\\\' anything... \\\'\\\'(cue shudder)\\\'\\\'\\\"

Next time, just cut to chase a tell us what the trope is without a writing a short story.
[[/folder]]
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to:
[[folder:Big Ass Description]]
\\\"Here it is, a beautiful day outside and your boyfriend has to drag you to some godawful wax museum in the dingiest recesses of town. Why anyone would find this creepy place entertaining is beyond you... although you have to admit, the wax figurines here do look \\\'\\\'awfully\\\'\\\' lifelike. It\\\'s almost like they\\\'re living, breathing human beings...
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n
\
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...only they\\\'re not living and breathing... and they couldn\\\'t be human beings...

...could they?

Oh great. Here comes [[MadArtist that creepy museum curator]] again, the guy in the short black cape with the gloved, disfigured hands and the acid burns on his face... What\\\'s that? He says you look a lot like Marie Antoinette? Eww. You don\\\'t like the way he\\\'s looking you over. Now he\\\'s lifting up your chin and... is that a \\\'\\\'caliper\\\'\\\' he\\\'s using to measure your nose?

You [[WalkingBackwards back away]] as your boyfriend comes up to you from behind, nearly scaring you to death. \\\"Hey,\\\" he says, \\\"you see that statue of Joan of Arc over there? Doesn\\\'t it look a lot like your friend Stacey who mysteriously disappeared last week and whom the police haven\\\'t been able to find yet? And didn\\\'t she say she\\\'d gone to visit this museum just the week before? Huh. What a coincidence.\\\"

Yeah. \\\'\\\'A coincidence.\\\'\\\' That\\\'s it, you sigh. Next time the two of you go out for a romantic afternoon outing, you\\\'re going to tour someplace that\\\'s waaay less disturbing than this... like a slaughterhouse, or the County Morgue...

Little do the two of you know, the Museum you\\\'re visiting is \\\'\\\'already\\\'\\\' a morgue of sorts. Sure, the museum curator with the disfigured hands says he only supervises and that it\\\'s his big hulking assistant who does all of the actual molding and casting of the figurines, but you\\\'ve seen the assistant guy. He barely has two brain cells to rub together. Just how could a brute like him create beautiful, lifelike replicas of historical human figures?

...Maybe, he\\\'s not \\\'\\\'creating\\\'\\\' anything... \\\'\\\'(cue shudder)\\\'\\\'\\\"

Next time, just cut to chase a tell us what the trope is without a writing a short story.
[[/Folder]]
Changed line(s) 4 from:
n
\
to:

\\\"Here it is, a beautiful day outside and your boyfriend has to drag you to some godawful wax museum in the dingiest recesses of town. Why anyone would find this creepy place entertaining is beyond you... although you have to admit, the wax figurines here do look \\\'\\\'awfully\\\'\\\' lifelike. It\\\'s almost like they\\\'re living, breathing human beings...

...only they\\\'re not living and breathing... and they couldn\\\'t be human beings...

...could they?

Oh great. Here comes [[MadArtist that creepy museum curator]] again, the guy in the short black cape with the gloved, disfigured hands and the acid burns on his face... What\\\'s that? He says you look a lot like Marie Antoinette? Eww. You don\\\'t like the way he\\\'s looking you over. Now he\\\'s lifting up your chin and... is that a \\\'\\\'caliper\\\'\\\' he\\\'s using to measure your nose?

You [[WalkingBackwards back away]] as your boyfriend comes up to you from behind, nearly scaring you to death. \\\"Hey,\\\" he says, \\\"you see that statue of Joan of Arc over there? Doesn\\\'t it look a lot like your friend Stacey who mysteriously disappeared last week and whom the police haven\\\'t been able to find yet? And didn\\\'t she say she\\\'d gone to visit this museum just the week before? Huh. What a coincidence.\\\"

Yeah. \\\'\\\'A coincidence.\\\'\\\' That\\\'s it, you sigh. Next time the two of you go out for a romantic afternoon outing, you\\\'re going to tour someplace that\\\'s waaay less disturbing than this... like a slaughterhouse, or the County Morgue...

Little do the two of you know, the Museum you\\\'re visiting is \\\'\\\'already\\\'\\\' a morgue of sorts. Sure, the museum curator with the disfigured hands says he only supervises and that it\\\'s his big hulking assistant who does all of the actual molding and casting of the figurines, but you\\\'ve seen the assistant guy. He barely has two brain cells to rub together. Just how could a brute like him create beautiful, lifelike replicas of historical human figures?

...Maybe, he\\\'s not \\\'\\\'creating\\\'\\\' anything... \\\'\\\'(cue shudder)\\\'\\\'\\\"

Next time, just cut to chase a tell us what the trope is without a writing a short story.
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