The Pit In the stinking humid pit, thousands of curling tendrils hide, sheltering the masses of unthinking organisms that feed on the briny secretions that flow out from among the roots. Suddenly, unbeknownst to the blind crawlers, the chasm widens and fresh air comes in to waft away the stench of their excretions and then the hissing, roaring torrent of killing chemicals and they all die silently, encased in an oily sheen of Right Guard.
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