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We once lived in a house that had a reputation in the neighborhood of being haunted. Frequently we heard the sounds of footsteps coming from overhead. We had a pecan tree in the yard, and a hole just under the roof where the squirrels got in. My wife and I liked them, and never bothered them, but my neighbor shot one out of a tree one day. His daughter, who happened to be looking out of the window at the time, came flying out of the house yelling, "I hate you, daddy!"
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