*Today, the people of Mayfield can find Allen sitting out at the edge the lake, holding onto a fishing rod with his line dangling in the water. Every now and then, he'll reel something in, usually a piece of wood or something similar, though occasionally he'll catch a small fish, only to unhook it and throw it back, before casting out again in a
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There's a freaky, horrible green skinned fish man behind you. Right now, he's just watching. About a hair's breath away from behind you. Before, ultimately, he feels he just has to break the silence.]
What you doin', motherlicker?
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What, you never swim in no lake before? What's wrong with you stringbean, hmm?
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