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Commercial Enterprise

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It took Willy to explain it to her. "It's like you got a chihuahua, you know?"

"Only, not a dog," she said, eyeing the card again. Definitely not a dog.

"Grub, actually."


"What, night creatures can't have pets?"

"So you have a grub..."

"And you want to fancy it up a bit. A coiffure, if you will."

"With human hair. From corpses."

"I always say, there's no accounting for taste."

"Right." She turned and slid her stake loose. "Time for a little business negotiation." She walked out on his splutter, dropping the card as she went.

Pet hairings, indeed.