Tale of George

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
An Excerpt From Tale of George - a serial posted at www.taleofgeorge.com

PART ONE - The Beginning

Submitted: April 07, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 07, 2009



This story takes place in a small town called Heightsland. Heightsland is a very nice town, and most of the people who live there are also very nice; however, in a small cottage on Main Street, there resides a very, very bad man named George.

George is a manic-depressive man who owns a gun. Most people in Heightsland don't know this about him. The reason I am telling this Tale is so that you will avoid George and people like him. First of all, you should know what George looks like. He looks like a typical heterosexual male. He likes to wear conservative, professional attire to his place of business, but on the weekends he enjoys hanging out in jeans and a tee-shirt. Most women in Heightsland think he is quite attractive. Little do they know.

One afternoon, George saw the most beautiful woman he ever laid his eyes upon. Her name was Gretchen. When George saw Gretchen he could not help but fall on his face. Actually, George only spilled coffee on himself, but doesn't it just sound more Tale-like the other way? So, George saw Gretchen, but she was too busy to even notice George. George went home and cried.But then, he stopped crying because he realized that he would see Gretchen again. Well, he hoped anyway.

The next day, George left his Heightsland cottage and headed to work as usual. And what do you think happened? He saw…Gretchen! She was eating a blueberry bagel on the steps in front of his office building.

"Hello, ma'am," he smiled.
"Uhmm, do you know where 321 Fifth Street is?"
"Uh, yeah…this is 321 Fifth Street. Haven’t you worked here for, like, 4 years already? You're George, right?"

George was taken aback. Apparently, she already knew him. Nervously, George stumbled up the stairs, "Yeah, see ya."

"Yeah, uh-huh," Gretchen mumbled to herself.

Gretchen wasn't in the mood for small talk. She wanted to be left alone. Unfortunately, Gretchen is rarely, if ever, left alone. Just ask her. I bet she would tell you that herself. She just got a job with George's company. Gretchen wanted to do a good job, not because she wanted to impress George but rather, she wanted to impress herself. George was impressed by Gretchen's work ethic. He also found it quite odd that she didn't kiss his a__ like the other women at the office. This bothered him a little. Sometimes, after a long day at the office, George would go home and analyze Gretchen's psychological framework. After two months of analysis, George came to the conclusion that Gretchen was perhaps, uhm, well…just not interested in him. This realization made George irate.

The next morning, George stormed into the office. He was very angry and Gretchen was scared. She decided to leave early so that she would be safe. No words were exchanged in the office that day and Gretchen was happy because she could concentrate and work more diligently. But when it came time for Gretchen to leave, she noticed that the New Mail icon on her computer terminal was up. She was afraid to click it, but she did anyway. The e-mail was from George. It was an invitation to join him at his annual Christmas party. Black Tie. Gretchen was not happy. She loved to dress up and go to parties, but this one seemed weird. Never before had she felt so indecisive about attending a Black Tie event.

That evening, Gretchen went home and called her best friend, Peyton. She told her all about George and the whole business with the Black Tie shindig. Peyton told Gretchen that she should go to the party, but she should take a date.Gretchen told Peyton that she would rather stay home alone than deal with the whole date thing. But then Gretchen had a great idea!

"HEY! Peyt, you wanna go," Gretchen asked.
"C'mon…you can wear that new Jennifer Lopez-y dress you bought."
"NO. I'm not going to be drawn into this."

"Ok, then, friend."

"Fine! I'll go."

"Jesus," Gretchen thought to herself, "Sometimes it's like pulling teeth with these people…what's up with that?" Whatever.

That evening, Gretchen proceeded to plop down upon her bed and try to get some sleep; however, before hitting the hay, she decided to pray. Usually, because Gretchen isn’t exactly the religious type, she wouldn’t do this. But something about this particular evening made her feel desperate for spiritual guidance. So, she laid down and started talking. Not out loud, mind you, but internally. In other words, she was having a mental pow-wow with the Main Man Upstairs. It was like she was talking to her best friend, and after a while, Gretchen just fell asleep…feeling comfortable and safe within the sole blanket upon her bed.

Come morning, Gretchen woke up feeling cold. It was a rainy day, so she chose to wear her new gray skirt with her new leather boots. And her favorite Irish wool sweater from her mom. As usual, Gretchen looked quite attractive. She hopped on the train and headed to work.

At work, Gretchen felt calm and relaxed. For the entire morning, things were great. That is, until George entered the lobby.

“Hello, Gorgeous,” he touted.

Gretchen didn’t acknowledge George’s greeting. She had work to do.

“Are you coming to my party,” George bellowed.

Quietly, Gretchen replied, “I don’t know yet.”


George walked away and trotted into his office, where he found his message light blinking. "Who could it be," he thought. Then George remembered that he had telephoned his father just the other day to get some of his father’s perspective on how to win over Gretchen. He promptly called his father, but unfortunately he was not at home. George left him a message telling him that he had everything under control. Whatever that meant. In any case, he began preparing for his Christmas party. During work hours. The slob.

Meanwhile, Gretchen had been diligently working at her desk. She believed that she should win the Employee of the Year Award, but to her dismay, George’s company does not give out such accolades. She continued working anyway.

So far, things seem pretty dull, don’t they? The boring, humdrum of the real world routine: wake up, go to work, take a break, work some more, go home, take a break, fall asleep. It’s not at all fun. And this is precisely why George was so happy today. He knew that he would be having a lot of fun this weekend at his party. And boy, did he ever!

George decided to go all out for this year’s party, since Gretchen was probably going to be there. He followed his father’s advice and made it a theme party: Vodka and Caviar. Surely, this would be impressive enough for Gretchen to attend. And it was.

Sporting her lovely black cocktail dress and her nana’s fuzzy coat, Gretchen made her entrance into the party, with Peyton on her arm. She was fashionably late purposely, because that’s just the way her mother taught her. Everyone gasped as she walked into the room. The jaws of all the attendees dropped to the ground.

“WHO is that,” one of many men asked George. “She is amazing!”

George looked in Gretchen’s direction and nearly collapsed.

“That’s Gretchen,” George softly explained to the man.

George then excused himself from the company of the man, and walked over to Gretchen. He offered to take her and her companion’s coats to the cloak room, which was actually the guest bedroom. Who has a ‘cloak room’ these days…really. As George was off throwing the ladies’ coats upon the guest room bed, Gretchen noticed the dor. George had wonderful taste for such a weird fellow. And he also had lots of books. She casually went over to the bookshelf to read some of the titles. “Hmmm…,” she said, “A Clockwork Orange, The Communist Manifesto, Siddartha…interesting…I wonder if he has really read these books.”

All of a sudden, to Gretchen’s surprise, she found herself being kissed on the mouth. Indeed, it was just a peck, but who was that? It was George and he was wasted. AND at his OWN party, no less!

Peyton and Gretchen snickered at him once he left them alone, “Hello? Party-smarts? George sooo needs to get some!” Apparently, George had kissed Gretchen because she was standing under some mistletoe. Gretchen thought he was just stupid.

As the night drew on, Gretchen started feeling bored. It was getting late and the merlot had made her quite tired. Being the polite and courteous woman that she is, Gretchen sought out George to thank him for inviting her to his party. But he was nowhere to be found. Peyton suggested that they go upstairs and check to see if he was okay.

“George?” Gretchen called into the hallway. “George?”
“Uggghh…Gretchen…in here,” George moaned.
“Are you okay?”

George was smirking as if to hide an underlying agenda. Gretchen was clueless, but thankfully, Peyton was not.

“Gretch, let’s go…he’s fine,” Peyton stated.

“You think?”


George piped in, “Yes, dears, I am quite fine…just a bit loopy right now due to the fact that I shared a shot with almost every guest here.”

“But, George, there are about 80 people here,” Gretchen exclaimed.
“I know,” George said forthrightly.“That’s why I feel so sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, George,” Gretchen said empathetically.
George got up from his chair and moved toward Gretchen.
“What are you doing, George,” Gretchen inquired.
“I wanna give you a hug.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary…I have to go now.Please don’t touch me.”
“Awww, c’mon, Gretch, it’s me, George…gimme a huuug.”

“Ok, one…and then I have to go.”

So, Gretchen gave George a hug. But George didn’t let go.He held her in a bear hug, squeezing her until they eventually toppled onto his bed.

“C’mon, George…” Peyton cried, “Get off her! Jesus Christ!”

“Whhaaa?” Said George.
“Yeah, George, get the hell offa me!”
“Oh, but soft…Gretchen speaks…”
“F___ off, George, before I scream…I swear to God!”
“Gretch, why don’t you just relax?”

“Leave her alone,” Peyton shouted, as she began to attempt to pry his arms off of Gretchen.

Meanwhile, while all of this was going on in George’s bedroom, Steven, one of George’s officemates, headed up the stairs. Steven, too, like most of the men at the party, was looking for Gretchen. He heard her voice coming from a door at the far end of the hallway. He knew exactly what was going on in there, and he just had to see it for himself.

To his contentment, George and Gretchen…AND Peyton were snowballed upon the bed.Steven grabbed the camera on top of George’s dresser and took a picture of the spectacle.

“Ha, ha…blackmail,” Steven thought to himself. “Now, George will definitely lose face at the office! Ha, ha!!”

By this time, Gretchen was fed up. She had managed to get away from the clutches of George, but she was now seething because she couldn’t believe that such an incident could possibly occur. She and Peyton went to Gretchen’s car and drove off.

“I can’t believe him! Uuuuuuuggg!! I am sooo mad, I could scream,” Gretchen sounded.

“I know, Gretch,” Peyton said while nurturingly rubbing Gretchen’s arm.“It’s ok.”
“I swear, how f___ing unprofessional can a man get? I think he forgot that despite the party being at his home, he still was at a quote-unquote Office Event…F___in’ moron…”


After this frightful night, all Gretchen wanted to do was sleep. Luckily the next day she didn’t have to go to work, so she could sleep in. And that’s exactly what she did. Gretchen slept and slept for hours and hours. It was the best sleep she had in a long time. When she finally awoke, it was already the afternoon. Time to eat.

“How lovely it is to eat,” Gretchen thought to herself, as she stuffed her face with some pretzel nuggets with mustard. “I sooo love being by myself…it is the best feeling in the entire world! I wish I could be alone all the time. And then, I would have time to do whatever I want whenever I want…no pressure EVER!” Gretchen smiled broadly at this thought, and then headed over to the couch to lay down and be lazy. She clicked on the TV and flipped through the channels. There was nothing on, so Gretchen decided to watch one of the movies she recently purchased. “The Graduate, yes…I am soooo happy.” This time Gretchen said this out-loud and it scared her. She realized that she was essentially talking to herself and that if anyone saw her, they would probably think that she was psychotic. But, no one was around. It was just her. And that was just spiffy. Gretchen began to smile again.

As quickly as the weekend had begun, it was over and George was none too thrilled. He knew that he was going to get s___ at the office for his behavior at his party. In preparation, George wore his most disgusting apparel and threw on a baseball cap to hide underneath. On the drive to work, he hit traffic, which normally he wouldn’t mind so much, but today was different. George was irritable and started to feel claustrophobic. He rolled down the driver’s side window and stuck his head out to breathe in some air. The light turned green, and just as George was about to press the gas pedal, he had another revelation. George realized that he didn’t have to go to work. He could easily take the day off, but then he thought to himself, “I won’t see Gretchen.” And this made him sad. George didn’t want to be unhappy, so he kept driving towards his office.

Once George exited his car, he immediately perked up. He felt good, even though he looked like hell. He decided to go to the coffee shop and purchase some donuts for his co-workers. He was obviously in a good mood now because typically, George would never buy anything for anyone in the office…except for Gretchen. He bought her lots of little things, which she gladly accepted. He knew her favorite drink, so he would buy it for her every day at lunchtime. In addition, he also knew her favorite food, so he would buy it for her, too…every day at lunchtime. This made Gretchen happy, but also scared. Gretchen didn’t know why he was doing these nice things for her, and she constantly wondered what exactly his intentions were.

“Mornin’, Glory,” George bellowed in Gretchen’s direction. “Wanna donut?”Then, George remembered that Gretchen doesn’t eat lipids.“Oh, that’s right, you’re on a ‘diet,’” he mocked.

Gretchen just nodded, and continued working as normal. She decided that she wouldn’t say anything about the party.

George continued past Gretchen’s desk towards the kitchen, where he saw Steven.

“Nice party,” Steven said slyly.
“Heh…yeah,” replied George.
“Are you feelin’ okay today?”

“Yes, thanks.”George didn’t want to talk to Steven. He didn’t want to be reminded of that terrible evening. So, George just placed the box of donuts on the counter-top and went to his office, where he began drafting an e-mail to Gretchen.

At noon, Gretchen got a phone call. It was her mother. “Gretch, did he show?”

“Yea, Ma; he’s here now…”
“Well, what did he say? Did he apologize for his behavior? What?”

“Ma, I can’t talk right now…I’m at work. Don’t worry about it…I’ll talk to you later.”

Gretchen’s mother liked to stress out about everything and everyone in Gretchen’s life. She was a caring mother and Gretchen loved AND liked her more than anybody else in the world…except for her father. He was the best man in the entire world, hands-down. Don’t most women think that of their dads? Dads are the best thing that ever happened to this planet. I love mine.

Back to the Tale. Gretchen politely said good day to her mother on the telephone and hung up. She went back to her computer terminal, where she saw the New Mail icon up. Gretchen didn’t want to look at her new mail because she thought it would be work-related and she didn’t want to deal with it at the moment. Instead, she decided to surf the web. She visited all of her favorite sites, including ones that she had recently been unable to visit due to lack of time. Gretchen spent hours reading various news articles, specifically articles about Australia. She was going there next spring, so she wanted to read up. Then, it came time for her to look at her new mail. She clicked the icon, and up came a flood of e-mails. And they were all from George. Each one said the same thing:


My sincerest apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct at my party this past weekend.I would like to make it up to you by taking you out this weekend.I have an extra ticket to see La Bohe at the Oluvian Theater.Wanna come?
Your Friend,


Gretchen didn’t like what she saw. She was becoming tense inside and she wanted to cry a river. Immediately, she picked up the phone and called her assistant, Shelley, who graciously agreed to watch over things while Gretchen took a brisk walk outside. Leaving the office made Gretchen feel much better about everything indeed. She was able to smoke at her leisure, she bought some clothes, and she even managed to purchase her favorite drink from Starbucks. These were all good things indeed. No, I think great would be a better word for it. Great, indeed. Gretchen smiled to herself. She was happy again and she felt like she could return to the office and reply to George’s e-mail.

At her desk, Gretchen began typing,

Thank you for inviting me, George, but I don’t think I will be able to join you. I unfortunately have a date this weekend.

Then, Gretchen used her mouse and deleted what she had written.Gretchen started over,

Sure, George, I would love to join you! I love the opera, but I must be honest with you. I have already seen La Bohe, and as much as I love it, I would rather see something else.



Gretchen didn’t think this made much sense at all, so again, she started over,


Please don’t e-mail me ever again. I am really not interested in you, and I think that it would be best if we left things as professional as possible. This is a place of business. Let’s not socialize via electronic mail.

Thank you for your cooperation,


Gretchen loved the way that read, and as much as she wanted to send it, she didn’t. Gretchen didn’t reply to George’s e-mail at all. She just deleted it…permanently.

I don’t know if it was the alignment of the planets or just a strange coincidence, but at precisely the same time that Gretchen permanently deleted George’s invitation, George got a striking pain in his chest.


Gretchen and all of her officemates heard this, and began to panic. Shakily, Gretchen got up from her chair and darted for George’s office.

“Oh my God, what’s wrong,” Gretchen asked.

“Myyy chhheest! I can’t breathe! Call the paramedics! Please.”

Gretchen didn’t know what to do, so she called Steven. Why Steven, I don’t know. But Steven was called. Steven ran into George’s office, laughing, “What the hell are you doing?”

“For chrissakes, Steven, I think I’m having a heart-attack. Would you f___ing call the goddam ambulance?”
“No,” said Steven with a grin.

“Steven, Jesus…” Gretchen was flabbergasted by Steven’s nonchalance, so she took matters into her own hands (which she should’ve done in the first place, the dork). Gretchen picked up the phone and dialed 911.

While waiting for the paramedics to arrive, Gretchen and Steven stayed with George in his office. They were pretty much silent the entire time. It was a very strange situation, you see; therefore, it would have been very weird if they began to ‘just converse’ for no apparent reason. I mean, really, what can you possibly say in a situation like this? What would you say? Well, what you would say doesn’t matter because I am telling this Tale.

At last, the paramedics arrived; however, by this time, George had ‘miraculously’ been healed. Methinks he was just faking his heart palpitation in order to get attention. What a cad! And, this is what Gretchen thought as well. She told me so.

The work day continued on.

Later in the afternoon, George began to feel frustrated. “Why hasn’t she replied to my invitation,” he asked himself. “Did I do something wrong? Maybe I should just write her back and renege the invitation…No, that would be lame…I feel so stupid…I just wanna be with her all the time…Why must life be so difficult…Why am I even stressing about this?”

George was obviously distraught, so he decided to get up from his desk and take a cigarette break. Without thinking, he walked by Gretchen’s desk and asked, “You wanna smoke with me? You smoke, don’t you?”

Gretchen didn’t understand what George was doing or saying. She was exhausted and consequently, quite moody. George was in for a big surprise.

“Yes, George.I smoke. Do I wanna smoke with you? No. Do I ever wanna smoke with you? No. Do I wish you didn’t work here anymore? Yes.”

George just stood still and stared at Gretchen, like a deer caught in headlights, “Gretchen? Yoo-hooooo!” George egged on, “Greeeetttchheen, Earth to Gretchen.”
“I just asked you if you wanted to come for a smoke.”
“Oh, you did? Did I answer you?”
“Nope…” George said curiously.
“Oh, good.”
“Are you okay, my dear?”
“Yea, I’m just a little tired.”
“Sounds it,” George said, as he helped Gretchen with her sweater. “It’s chilly outside.”
“It is?”
“Yeah, weren’t you just outside for your break?”

“Oh, yea,” Gretchen rapidly shook her head from side to side. She wanted to shake off the tired feeling she was having. She needed to start thinking more clearly.

Once she got her bearings, Gretchen realized that she was strolling with George in the lobby. Yikes! What was she thinking!?

Quickly, but politely, Gretchen made up an excuse to get away from George and she left him…alone, by himself, to stand and smoke…alone. George was miserable. He, again, wanted to cry. But then, as he realized how much Gretchen was hurting his ego, George began to get angry. He started mentally configuring a plan to sabotage Gretchen’s reputation in the office. This made George excited. So excited in fact, that he wanted to execute his sabotage plan right away. So, George stubbed out his cigarette and went back to the office. His first stop was to Lenora’s desk. Lenora was the blabber-mouth in the office, so George knew that whatever he told her would spread like wildfire. He began to tell her all about his experience with Gretchen. George lied and lied and lied, telling Lenora things such as, “Gretchen is such a tease. She came to my room at the party and tried to seduce me, and then when I was ready to go, she left. Now, she won’t even talk to me anymore.” Tant pis for poor Mister George because apparently, Lenora had already heard the TRUE story of what happened at George’s party from Steven.

“Oh, really, George,” Lenora questioned, after George had spilled his guts to her with wretched and horrible lies. “Really?”

“Yes, I tell you,” George demanded.
“Why, what did you hear?”
“Oh, nothing…” said Lenora.
“George,” Lenora said politely, “I really must be left alone now; I have to work.”
“Work? Since when do you work at work?”
“Hey, I resent that, George.”


George stormed off and slammed the door to his office, where he stewed for the rest of the evening. He purposely waited for everyone else in the office to leave before he came out. “What a bad day,” he thought. He wanted desperately to call Gretchen, but he decided not to.

Even if George telephoned Gretchen, she wouldn’t have answered the telephone because Gretchen never answers the phone at her house. Never? Yes, never. She is afraid to answer the phone because scary people call her and harass her quite frequently. You know, they even do it to her at work. Call and breathe heavily on the line, that is. I think it is disgusting and immature. Seriously, if you wanna call someone, say SOMETHING! My goodness!


“Hello,” said the voice on the receiver.
“May I help you?”
“Gretchen,” the voice stated.
“Who is this?”
“…uh, who is this?”
“This is Gretchen’s mother.”
“Oh, hello, ma’am. May I please speak to your daughter?”
“Yeeees, but may I tell her who is calling?”
Just then a voice was heard in the distance, “MA! Just hang up! It’s ‘family time.’”

“Oh, I am sorry, ma’am. Nevermind.”


Gretchen’s mother was confused. She walked downstairs to talk to Gretchen, but she knew what Gretchen was going to say so she decided to forget it. But then, she couldn’t resist,
“Gretch, a man called.”
“Yea, so…,” Gretchen said uninterestedly.
“He hung up on me after he heard you in the background…”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know…Gretch, who are these men who call here? What are you doing after work these days?”

Gretchen didn’t want to bother with this discussion, so she decidedly clicked off the TV and left the room. But she said excuse me first…to be respectful.

“GREEETCHHH,” called her mother.
“Whaaaa,” returned Gretchen.

“Come down here and apologize right now.”

As Gretchen began descending the stairs, she started, “Yes, Ma? I’m sorry. For what, I don’t know…but I am sincerely sorry for upsetting you.”

“Why don’t you tell me who you are dating?”
“C’mon MA! What’s the problem now? I just want to watch TV for goodness sake.”
“Gretch, I want to know,” Gretchen’s mother demanded.
“I’m not seeing anybody. You know that.”
“So, who are these calls coming from then? A ghost?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised, Ma,” Gretchen said in all seriousness.
“C’mon Gretch. Seriously, who are these people who call you constantly and then hang up?”

“I honestly don’t know, Ma…I swear. I wish I knew myself.”

Gretchen was not lying at all. She really had no clue who these people were. Sometimes, though, she thought George was the one calling her. “Whatever,” she thought. Life goes on.

George hung up the phone.“S___,” he thought to himself. “I should’ve left a message. Damn.”He had forgotten again to leave his name with Gretchen’s mother. He was always doing this. Oh, well. Life goes on.

After feeding his birds, George went to bed, and the next morning he woke up at 9:00am. He was going to be late to work again, so he called in. Without rushing, George got ready for work. At 10:00am, George arrived at the office. At 5:30pm, he left the office. He left with Gretchen. Yes, I said he left with Gretchen. She decided that she would allow Mister George to drive her home this particular evening because she didn’t feel like taking the train. She didn’t expect to hear his entire life story in the car, though. But she did. Through approximately one and a half hours of rush-hour traffic, Gretchen listened to George drone on and on about his life. Some things that she heard were very interesting, but some things sounded very frightening indeed. George seemed to have no control over the words that were coming out of his mouth. No self-censoring whatsoever. He told Gretchen practically everything…everything. About his three marriage proposals, one which was made by a mini-fridge in a dormitory room and one which was made to a former-prostitute-turned-professional-stripper; about his time in the Middle East; about his search for a green-card wife; about his emotional instability; about his Prozac; about his gun…It was at this point that Gretchen just could not bear to hear anymore. She told George to please be quiet so that she could rest. And he did.

Gretchen closed her eyes and silently counted to herself. Gretchen liked to count sheep when she was feeling overwhelmed. And at this moment, Gretchen was extremely overwhelmed. She felt as though she had the wind knocked out of her. Too much information, but the thing that kept buzzing through her head was, “gun, gun, gun.” DANGER! Gretchen slowly opened her eyes hoping she was nearing her home. Thankfully, she was. George was definitely driving her home. So, good.

Gretchen knew exactly what she was going to do once she got home. She was going to see her mother and father, and smile. She would feel safe and secure in a trusting environment. And then, she would go eat a pretzel. Joy! She also knew that she would never ever let George drive her home again, nor would she talk to him ever again…unless it was work-related. Deep inside, Gretchen wanted to resign from her new job but she decided to stick things out. I mean, she was leaving for Australia soon anyway. Thus, began Gretchen’s waiting phase. Gretchen, the Lady-In-Waiting.

Perhaps you are still wondering about George & Gretchen? I sure hope you are! Well, there's more to read at www.taleofgeorge.com I hope you will visit, and as always, send me any feedback!

NOTE: If you are having trouble reading this due to the size of the font, please don't forget that a more legible version is accessible at www.taleofgeorge.com - Just go to "What You Missed" and Click on the link for Part One. Then, maybe while you're there, you might want to check out the other Parts. Thanks for reading!

Part One - The Beginning

© Copyright 2020 TaleTeller. All rights reserved.

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