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It's getting to you, isn't it? Sitting all alone at that big dining room table. All those empty dishes. Nothing in the oven. Truly stainless steel instruments - no chicken stains anywhere! Hunger pangs increasing. And no entree in sight! Running out of appetizers. All the liquor gone. Still no knock on the door. No muted scream in the oven. No feathers in the trash bag.
What would Wiley do now?
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