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needsnobottle October 29 2011, 06:19:32 UTC
This was by far the most elaborate costume Tammy had ever worn. Growing up she'd tended toward the bedsheets with the two eye holes cut out, or the Native American costume made out of old paper grocery bags and multi-colored construction paper. The entire time she was in middle school she'd worn a ratty white tanktop and dark pants, carried a water pistol, smeared her arms with fake blood, and gone trick or treating barefoot, announcing herself to obviously be John McClane. (Foolish, considering how cold the ground was that time of year, but shoes would have destroyed the costume.)

Tammy wandered into the party and took her time looking around. She paused by the food table long enough for her empty stomach to fight a war with her wariness. Starving wasn't appealing, but she no longer trusted that anything was at it seemed anymore.

Thankfully, though, the noise of the party was drowning out the whispers, for the most part, so Tammy felt reasonably confident that she would manage to make it through this with all of her control

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