54 строки
2.3 KiB
Plaintext
54 строки
2.3 KiB
Plaintext
Copyright (c) 2012 The Chromium Authors. All rights reserved.
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Use of this useless file is governed by a BSD-style license that can be
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found in the LICENSE file.
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This file is used for making non-code changes to trigger buildbot cycles. Make
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any modification below this line.
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=============================================================================
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Let's make a story. Add one sentence for each commit:
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CHAPTER 1:
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It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at
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occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which
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swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along
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the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that
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struggled against the darkness. A dark figure emerged.
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It was a Domo-Kun. "What took you so long?", inquired his wife.
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Silence. Not noticing his silence, she continued, "Did Mr. Usagi enjoy the
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waffles you brought him?" "You know him, he's not one to forego a waffle,
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no matter how burnt", he snickered.
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The pause was filled with the sound of thunder.
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CHAPTER 2:
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The syrup was as dark as night, and just as runny.
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The Domo-Kun shuddered, remembering the way Mr. Usagi had speared his waffles
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with his fork, watching the runny syrup spread and pool across his plate,
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like the blood of a dying fawn. "It reminds me of the time --" he started, as
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his wife cut in quickly: "-- please. I can't bear to hear it.". A flury of
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images coming from the past flowed through his mind.
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"You recall what happened on Mulholland drive?" The ceiling fan rotated slowly
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overhead, barely disturbing the thick cigarette smoke. No doubt was left about
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when the fan was last cleaned.
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There was a poignant pause.
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CHAPTER 3:
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Mr. Usagi felt that something wasn't right. Shortly after the Domo-Kun left he
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began feeling sick. He thought out loud to himself, "No, he wouldn't have done
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that to me." He considered that perhaps he shouldn't have pushed him so far.
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Perhaps he shouldn't have been so cold and sarcastic, after the unimaginable
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horror that had occurred, just the week before.
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Next time, there won't be any sushi. Why sushis with waffles anyway? It's like
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salmon in a cereal bowl.
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CHAPTER 4:
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The taste of stale sushi in his mouth the next morning was unbearable. He
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wondered where the sushi came from. He tries to recall the cook's face.
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CHAPTER 5:
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