rdfs:comment
| - A standard everyday grayish building, Monday morning Image:Biohazard2.png A lonely employee enters the building eyes lowered, all parched and miserable after a long weekend with his mates seeking a way to relieve that horrible headache that has been feeling like a group of Scottish bag-pipe players gliding all the way down the Scottish Highlands, playing with all their might, while each holding an 8-pound baby....but we're digressing from our discussion. It's a vending machine. For coffee. Hot, delicious, frothy cappuccino. So it says in clear red letters. The vending machines squeaks. It burps.
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abstract
| - A standard everyday grayish building, Monday morning Image:Biohazard2.png A lonely employee enters the building eyes lowered, all parched and miserable after a long weekend with his mates seeking a way to relieve that horrible headache that has been feeling like a group of Scottish bag-pipe players gliding all the way down the Scottish Highlands, playing with all their might, while each holding an 8-pound baby....but we're digressing from our discussion. That sad, sad employee bumps his toe against some hard and metallic object, and while jumping around swearing, holding his toe and committing himself to the well known Native American dance of pain release. While raising his eyes to the pesky metallic object he hurt his toe upon, he suddenly realizes something, and his world turns all shiny and blue. It's a vending machine. For coffee. Hot, delicious, frothy cappuccino. So it says in clear red letters. "Ah!" thinks the employee aloud, drawing some startled looks from a passing by female colleague, "Coffee! My troubles are all over!" And so he presses the shiny black coffee button, expecting his "Hot, delicious frothy double-glazed cappuccino". The vending machines squeaks. It burps. It moans. And some brown mush is excreted into a paper cup bearing the slogan; "Enjoy your hot delicious frothy double-glazed cappuccino". He drinks up. Alas, he spits everything all over the place, spraying himself and the female colleague (who just came around the corner holding an unidentified blob packed in shiny wrapping which proclaims "Enjoy your scrumptious fruit scone"). She doesn't look happy. Not one bit. She looks quite sick actually. So much unhappiness, and it is all because of the vending machines. This is where we come in.
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