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And tokens poured forth like mana from heaven, bringing games and tickets to the children, and there was bliss.
Music came down from on high and a band formed from unlikely friends. Their songs filled the room with pizza and loud children.
And in the middle of the malestrom, the music would start and together they cried out in terrible unison, “chucky. Chucky. CHUCKY.”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Behold! The great King Ozymandias!
I guess what they had was technically pizza.
Tough luck, Chuck
Charles Entertainment Cheese. A fallen angel.