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Trip yawned. He was absolutely beat. There had been a bug in the engine that he managed to pin down after three days of head-beating and cursing. Now, he could sleep. He pulled back the covers and climbed into bed.
Hang on. There was something by his feet. Something hairy and sticky.
He jumped out of bed, but the thing just stuck to him. He slapped the light on and saw it: a huge, stuffed, black spider stuck to his foot with gum. The kind of gum he had put in that bomb.
He would so get Malcolm for this.
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