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Pitcher of Frappucino

I've sort of been volunteered by the Stressy College Chick Shift Ops Super to bring in a pitcher of frappucinos tomorrow morning. I have the ice cream and the espresso, and I made a milk run on the way home.

Nothing perks up a quiet Saturday morning where everyone's tired like a frosty-cold pitcher of Evil Caffienated Substance.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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