‘Well, you miserable bastards,’ the ass-ass-in said. One by one he tossed the young ’pies into the air. Their strange chance to escape gave them a brief skill and they soared, and leveled off, and then one by one they exploded up there; a few feathers drifted down like ash. Well, it was a quick death, quicker than shooting them or wringing their necks, and not a purposeless death either, like most, for it had afforded a little fun on a Sunday, Phil thought. ‘To be perfectly frank,’ he nodded to himself, moving his lips. Alone, Phil often talked or laughed to himself, aware that he did so,
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