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robot-o's dotfiles

I've tried to ward my house to the best of my abilities: apples near each door and window, apple-scented candles, maintaining a constant supply of apples and apple products in my kitchen. Nothing works. The doctors... they are relentless. They're clever, systematically searching for a breach in my defenses. When I close my eyes, I can feel their icy stethoscopes. I just ate my first apple today, but it is all in vain. The ache in my knees from their mallets warns me they are drawing near. I took an apple from my kitchen to carry with me around the house. I sat down on my couch, only to hear the crinkle of wax paper beneath me. I caught a glimpse of a white coat outside my window. I wanted to believe it wasn't real, but my worst fears were realized when I heard the murmur of "What seems to be the problem here, today?"

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