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Along path after path, we made our way through
plants we became certain were not from far off
earthly lands, but were from some wholly alien
landscape across distances measured in light-years
instead of miles. We measure in light-years and
miles because, being American, we hate the metric.
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Who knew there could be so many different types
of cacti, from big melons, to weird tree-like
shapes? And who cared, really? Once you've seen
one cactus, you've pretty much figured out the
whole appeal, which is that they've got nasty
spines on them that look soooo cool you just
have to touch them and they're almost like fur,
they're so thin and oohhhhAAOOOWCH! Son of a
bitch, that's sharp! Fucking cactus!
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Sometimes that feeling about certain plants
coming from alien landscapes went away, and
was replaced by the feeling that we were
actually on the alien landscape ourselves.
This effect was quite pronounced one time
when we rounded a corner under an overhang,
and the path opened out to a view of the
cliffside and the Mediterranean, but no
sign of settlement to be seen, save the
winding path extending before us along the
cliff face.
It was a bit disconcerting to suddenly
round a corner and find ourselves no longer
in the middle of a huge city. We
considered our options and it was decided
that, if we could not find our way back
in time, Roger would be the first to be
eaten.
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I was feeling a mite peckish right then
but I eventually gave in to Roger's
relentless pestering, and followed
him down a new path in order to give at least the
appearance of a little more effort
towards self-rescue before having my friend for dinner. Well,
it wasn't even that late in the day...more
of an afternoon snack, really.
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