Ed. here. Walt was heavily into Ma Nifkins' Jellied Gin when he sat down at the computer. He managed to type just those few letters before collapsing in a heap. I have revived him, but he is in no condition to drive, much less write. He demands to be driven to town to start collecting on his bets. When we get back, I'll have a go at the stack of scribbled notes littering the floor like autumn leaves.
We have some space to fill here. I think this flag will do nicely.
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