By Audrey W.
November 25th 1975
John Gage looked over from his seat at the table in the dayroom just in time to see Chet Kelly get up from a squatting position and plop a piece of a sugar cookie in his mouth. The paramedic made a sour face.
“Chet, did you just eat that off the floor?” He immediately turned to his partner, Roy DeSoto, sitting in the next chair over to his right. “Did you see that?”
“I didn’t eat anything off the floor,” Chet denied after he swallowed the remaining food in his mouth. “Well, not exactly.”
Marco Lopez turned his attention from the pot of chili on the stove in front of him to the conversation taking place. Equally curious was Mike Stoker, who was just getting bowls out of the cupboard to set the table for lunch.
“Whataya’ mean ‘not exactly’?” Johnny wondered. “Either ya did or you didn’t.”
Roy figured his partner’s question asked of him a few seconds earlier was rhetorical and not meant for an answer, so he just listened to the latest argument.
“It wasn’t on the floor until I dropped it,” Chet began as he walked toward the table. Pulling out a chair, he continued, “It was only there for a few seconds. . .it’s not like it was there long enough to get dirty.”
“But it hit the floor! Where we walk!”
Chet shrugged as he took a seat. “Yeah. . .so. . .”
“So?” Johnny looked around at the others. “Am I the only one who can see how wrong this is?”
Marco and Roy both started to answer, when Chet interrupted with his explanation. “It’s the five second rule.”
“Haven’t you guys heard of the five second rule?”
All but Johnny nodded ‘yes’.
“My kids use it enough,” Roy stated. “I guess I’m the one who got them hooked.”
“It depends on how much we drop,” Marco explained. “If it’s a small piece of something, it usually gets thrown away. But if it’s big, we usually try to save it.”
“If I’m at home I use it,” Mike offered as he set the bowls on the table. “But if I’m out in public, I don’t. I need to know whose shoes were on the floor first, if you know what I mean.”
Johnny glanced around in disbelief, a look of disgust on his face. “Man, I don’t believe you guys. If a piece of food falls on the floor, it’s supposed to be tossed away.”
Chet leaned forward, his right forearm on the table. “John, didn’t your mom ever teach you to just blow what ever it is off and eat it?”
“No. Besides, what happens in six seconds that doesn’t happen in five?”
“There’s just a point in time where it becomes wrong,” Roy remarked. “If you can grab it in five seconds or less, it’s barely on the floor. Beyond that, it’s too late.”
The dark-haired paramedic shook his head and leaned back in his chair, still wearing a look of disgust. “Man, you think you know someone and then you get this. . .”
Before anyone could say anymore, the tones sounded and the squad was sent on a call concerning a man down.
“You really eat food you drop on the floor?” Johnny asked as Roy drove the squad into the street.
“If it’s something I’m really enjoying and it’s the last one of its kind in the house. . .yeah,” he said with a nod. “As long as I know the floor is clean,” he added as they continued on their way. “If the dog’s been in the house, or the kids have been in and out playing, then I don’t.”
The younger paramedic half nodded, a sour expression once again on his face as he looked ahead.
Well, I guess that’s a *little* better than what I originally thought. . .
After arriving on scene, the paramedics were escorted into a house where a man was lying on the couch in the livingroom, moaning as he held his hands on his stomach. He was sweating profusely.
“How long has he been like this?” Johnny asked, setting down the biophone and drug box, and taking the man’s wrist in his hand for pulse.
Roy placed the oxygen nearby and began to set up the biophone as they waited for the answer.
“About twenty minutes,” the victim’s wife informed. “He was fine earlier, then about two hours after he had a snack, this started.” She grimaced slightly as she finished, “I guess I forgot to throw out the left over tuna casserole from dinner about ten days ago.”
She looked at Roy and nodded. “I don’t know if it was moldy, but apparently it wasn’t meant to be eaten. Or at least that’s all we can think of that might be causing this.”
Johnny was finished with the pulse and respirations. He jotted down the numbers on a tablet from his shirt pocket, then proceeded to take the man’s blood pressure after Roy handed him the BP cuff.
Lifting the handset on the biophone, the senior paramedic contacted the hospital.
“Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read? Rampart, this is squad 51.”
“Go ahead, 51,” came Doctor Morton’s reply.
Roy went on to describe the man’s symptoms and vitals Johnny supplied. He then added the information about the left over food being consumed.
“Sounds like it could be some kind of food poisoning. Bring him in, 51.”
“Aren’t. . .you guys gonna. . .give me anything?” the man asked, still with a hand on his aching stomach.
“They will at the hospital,” Johnny assured. “But he probably wants to make sure there aren’t any other underlying causes first.
“Oh. . .okay. Guess he’s got. . .a point.”
Having shown the ambulance attendants in, the wife stood back as her husband was readied for transport. After they loaded the patient into the ambulance once they were outside, Johnny remarked to Roy, “I guess he’ll heed to the ‘four to five day rule’ on leftovers from now on, huh?”
“As bad as he feels, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have them again for awhile at all.”
The dark-haired paramedic grinned and nodded as he watched his partner climb into the ambulance and take a seat on the bench.
“See you at Rampart,” he said as he started to close the rear doors.
A moan from the victim could be heard just as Johnny shut the second door.
Once they turned the victim over to Doctor Morton and got their supplies refilled by one of the nurses on duty, the paramedics headed back for the station where they knew some of Marco’s chili would be waiting for them.
Johnny walked into the dayroom all smiles at the aroma that had carried into the apparatus bay; Roy was right behind him, equally pleased.
“Don’t tell me Chet’s actually eating at the table,” Gage teased when he saw the four engine crew members seated and already consuming their lunch.
Captain Stanley looked on with a puzzled expression on his face as Marco and Mike snickered.
“Very funny,” Chet commented. He noticed Roy grinning as well.
“Just having a little fun, Chester B.,” Johnny assured as he pulled out a chair and took a seat.
“Did I miss something?” Hank Stanley asked, looking around at each of his men.
Roy took a seat beside his partner as he shook his head. “Not really. Just that Chet revealed he’ll eat a dropped piece of food if it’s on the floor for five seconds or less.”
“Yeah, and I’m not the only one, so why did I get singled out?”
“Because you’re an easy target,” Johnny stated.
“I’m an easy target?” Chet asked with wonder, pointing to his own chest. “I’m an easy target?”
Not wanting an argument, friendly or otherwise, at the table, the captain spoke up. “Okay, both of you drop it and eat.”
“Cap, that’s exactly the kind of thing that started this. . .”
Roy rolled his eyes at Gage’s comment, although he had to admit that the younger man was right. He noticed the captain had the same reaction as him.
Luckily the discussion was ended and a new one concerning the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday took its place.
“So I guess we’re set for the dinner here on Thursday,” Hank summarized after the men confirmed they’d like to have a big dinner among them since they’d be on duty. Roy’s and the captain’s wives had agreed earlier in the month to bring most of the dishes.
“I hope it’s a slow day so we can watch football,” Mike stated.
“I can tell you who’s gonna win,” Johnny offered after swallowing the last spoonful of his chili. “Anyone playing Detroit.”
“You never know,” Marco disagreed. “This could be their year.”
Johnny was about to make another comment when the klaxons sounded, sending the station to a motor vehicle accident on a four lane highway a few miles away.
Getting to the accident was accomplished in the inner lane on the opposite side of the road once the firemen were within a couple of miles of the scene. With both of the other lanes blocked by stopped traffic, the police had already diverted traffic coming from the opposite direction into the outside lane somewhere further up the street so that rescue personnel could get through.
Johnny looked out his window as Roy drove the squad past car after car, lined up bumper-to-bumper to their right.
“Man, it must be a mess where the accident happened.”
“Let’s just hope it’s not a bad one.”
“Yeah, but with traffic like this. . .” he trailed off. Gage didn’t need to say anymore beyond that. Usually when a street was blocked like this one was, they were in for a rough rescue.
As they neared the actual accident, the paramedics were surprised to see a few people hurrying back to their stopped cars with what appeared to be ready-to-cook turkeys in their hands.
“What in the world. . .?”
Roy didn’t respond, but rather returned his eyes to the lane ahead.
The engine crew was equally surprised at the sight as they traveled along the stopped traffic.
“Either there’s someone generous up the street or something tells me those turkeys are involved in the accident somehow,” the captain commented.
“Isn’t there usually a ‘turkey’ involved?” Chet asked with sarcasm.
Marco glanced at the curly-haired fireman beside him and rolled his eyes, while Hank and Mike groaned at the remark.
Chet shrugged. “Just tryin’ for some pre-holiday humor.”
Johnny’s mouth dropped open at the sight of the accident. Frozen turkeys were scattered all over the place across the two lanes of highway. The rear doors of a medium-sized refrigerated truck hung open, the driver’s side slightly dented. The passenger side of a dump truck nearby was damaged as well, one of its tires completely flat. Some of the tread from the tire was on the street along with the birds.
Police and what appeared to be the two truck drivers were working on gathering up the birds while onlookers appeared to be trying to take advantage of the situation and get a free turkey.
“So that’s what’s going on.”
Roy brought the squad to a stop, Mike parking the engine directly behind. Once out of their vehicles, the men could see that most of the frozen foul had split through their wrapping on impact.
Johnny looked over at another motorist making her way off with one of the birds. “Apparently some of these people haven’t heard of the ‘five second rule’.”
“Well, if they wash them good, they should be okay. But I don’t know that I’d be so anxious to grab one off the street,” Roy commented.
His partner nodded in agreement as a police officer explained the situation to Captain Stanley, his men listening as well.
“The driver of the freezer truck was making rounds dropping off turkeys to various places; he was between deliveries when the dump truck blew a tire and went out of control. The side of it slammed into his truck. . .the crash was enough to shift the load of turkeys and somehow the doors popped open. The driver isn’t sure if he might’ve forgotten to secure them good after his last delivery. Anyway, turkeys came tumbling out and you can see the results.”
“Did anyone get hurt?” Hank asked.
“Both drivers seem to be okay for the most part, but one is stepping gingerly on his right foot, so we figured we’d better call for paramedics in case.”
“Okay,” Hank said as he turned to his crew. “John, Roy. . .go ahead and check out both drivers. The rest of us can help clean up this mess.”
The men did as directed, all of them glad it wasn’t something more serious.
After careful examination of the truck drivers involved, the paramedics discovered the one had a probable broken bone in his foot; the other was fine except for having to end his delivery day so soon.
Johnny and Roy headed off to Rampart with the injured man in an ambulance while the engine crew continued to help with the cleanup. A police officer directed traffic through the outer lane as soon as it was completely cleared of both turkeys and the refrigerated truck; his fellow officers took care of other matters at the scene in the meantime.
“We should take one of these birds back to the station with us,” Chet remarked as he tossed a couple into the rear of the truck they’d fallen out of.
Mike and Marco gave him incredulous looks.
“We can’t do that,” the engineer protested.
“It was just a thought.”
“Well, put that thought back in your head where it belongs,” Marco suggested. “We’d be having a ‘hot’ bird for dinner and I don’t mean as in cooked.”
“I’m sure if we talked to Cap, we could get him to ask for one.”
“Chet, it’s almost Thanksgiving; a time when we’re supposed to be generous, not asking for favors,” Mike commented. “Besides, I’m not so sure I wanna eat a bird that’s been in the street.”
Marco agreed and reminded them both they already had a turkey dinner set up for the holiday anyway.
The three firemen continued on with the task at hand, only a grunt here and there as turkeys were picked up and tossed in the truck.
“I wish Dix was on duty today,” Johnny stated as he watched the scenery pass by on the way back to the station.
Roy quickly glanced over at his partner, not sure what he was getting at. “She’ll be on duty Thanksgiving Day, so I’m sure we’ll see her then since we are too.”
“Yeah but I’d like to get her opinion on this five second thing, ya know?”
“You can. It’ll just be in a couple of days.”
Johnny sighed and rolled his eyes at his friend’s lack of comprehension with what he was getting at. “Roy, I’m really curious. I can’t see Dixie picking anything up off the floor and eating it. . .period. But then I never would’ve thought you’d do it, so now I just wanna know what she thinks of the idea; if she agrees with me,” he said, pointing to his chest, “. . .or you.”
“Well, in my own defense, don’t forget . . .I only do it at home and not if it’s been awhile since Jo’s done the floors.”
The younger man cracked a crooked grin. “Kind of funny isn’t it?”
“Here we do all these dangerous things on the job, but the thought of eating food off the ground or floor is pushing the limits,” Johnny snorted.
Roy smiled. “Gotta draw the line somewhere I guess.”
“Anyway,” Gage began, shifting in his seat to face his partner. “Since we know Dixie better than any other girls--” He cut himself off at the doubtful look he got. “Aside from Joanne, I mean,” he quickly clarified. “I mean besides Joanne, we seem to know Dix best, so I think it’d be interesting to get her perspective on it.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the expression, ‘curiosity killed the cat’?”
Johnny nodded. “Sure. Sure, I’ve heard of it. But I’ve also heard the one, ‘a little knowledge never hurt anyone’.”
Roy once again glanced at Johnny, then returned his eyes to the street ahead. “I don’t think they had the ‘five second rule’ in mind when they came up with that one. Besides, there’s another saying you might want to apply here. . .”
“Considering you may get a response you don’t expect, just keep this in mind; ‘if you don’t wanna know, don’t ask.”
Gage frowned as he shifted in his seat to face forward and stared out the windshield in thought.
“You know, you’ve got a point.”
“So you aren’t going to ask her?”
Johnny shook his head. “No. . .no I don’t think so. After all, there’s another saying that applies here. ‘Some things are better left unknown’. And this could very well be one of ‘em.”
Roy nodded in agreement, a grin on his face. Their entire conversation had been based on truisms.
Just as the paramedics got within a block of Station 51, they were once again toned out, this time for a woman burned. Roy flicked on the lights and siren and quickly made a u-turn, heading for one of the streets they’d just passed.
After he and Roy donned their helmets, Johnny took his notepad out of his pocket and jotted down the call information. When he was done, he tore it out and stuck it up in passenger side sun visor.
Once on the scene, the two men were led inside a small white house to a bedroom. There a middle-aged woman was lying on top of the covers on a double bed, grimacing in pain. A wet towel was over her right forearm.
Johnny immediately stepped over and set down the trauma and drug box while Roy did the same with the biophone and oxygen.
“What happened?” Roy asked the husband as Johnny lifted the cold damp towel and gently examined her reddened and blistered forearm. Part of her blouse sleeve was gone except for burnt tattered edges.
“We have a gas stove and her mother, Olivia, decided to heat up some water in the tea kettle to make a cup of tea. Well, she just turned on the empty burner as Belinda was reaching for the jar of teabags and you can probably guess the rest . . .”
“Where’s Olivia now?” Roy asked, glancing around. In the meantime, Johnny assured Belinda they’d take care of her as he carefully took her vitals.
“She’s in the guest room. She was so distraught, I told her it would probably be best if she waited there. My wife’s worried about her mother though.”
“Ca. . .can. . .you. . .check her . . .out too?” Belinda asked, her jaw clenched against the pain. “She . . .she’s eighty-seven. . .sh. . .she didn’t. . .mean. . .to do. . .it.”
Roy nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure she’s okay.”
“Olivia comes and stays with us a few days every Thanksgiving and Christmas; has been since Bruce. . .her husband. . .passed away four years ago,” the man explained. “This is the first time anything like this has happened.”
Roy set up the biophone and tried to contact Rampart; while he waited for a response, he suggested, “Why don’t you let her know we’re taking care of Belinda. Maybe it’ll help ease some of her worry.”
The man agreed and with a quick reassurance to his wife that he’d be back, he did as Roy suggested.
Forty minutes later, the paramedics were once again nearing the station after leaving Belinda and her upset mother in good hands at Rampart General.
“I really feel sorry for Olivia,” Johnny stated. “She’s gonna feel guilty every time she looks at the scars on her daughter’s arm.”
“I know. Sometimes I wish we could do more. But it’s just one of those things she’s going to have to deal with.”
Johnny agreed, then looked out the passenger window just in time to see a man walking down the sidewalk drop something from his hand and leisurely bend over to pick it up. What ever it was, it went directly in his mouth afterward.
Shocked, the dark-haired paramedic looked at the second hand on his watch. I know *that* was longer than five seconds.
Apparently there was another person who knew nothing about the rule.
When they got back to the station, Johnny and Roy headed for the captain’s office to write down the past few calls in their log book. As they entered the room, Captain Stanley looked up from his paper work on his desk, nodding them a greeting.
“You two don’t look so happy. . .bad call?”
Roy spoke for both of them. “It was kind of a hard one. An elderly lady turned a gas burner on while her daughter was reaching across the stove and didn’t realize exactly why she shouldn’t do it at the time. The daughter’s sleeve caught on fire.”
“Was anyone able to get the fire out quick enough? How is she?”
“Her husband was there and reacted immediately. She’ll have some scarring so she’s gonna need skin grafts on her arm. But her mother’s got a lot of guilt to work through. Betty, one of the nurses at Rampart, was sitting with her when we left.”
“See? There’s another reason Dix should be there today. She’s great with people. She’d have Olivia smiling again in no time.”
“Dix can’t be on duty every day we are, you know,” Roy stated.
The captain leaned back in his chair and smiled. He was all too aware of how fond his paramedics were of the head nurse.
Johnny glanced at Hank as he grabbed the log book off the top of the filing cabinet.
I wonder what Cap’s answer to the five second rule would be. . .
But just like with Dixie McCall, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, just in case it wasn’t what he hoped the answer would be. He thought back to the man on the sidewalk who ate something off the ground. His mouth twisted in a distasteful grimace at the memory, he handed the log book to Roy and took the call sheets from his own shirt pocket where he’d stashed them upon returning.
Much to everyone’s delight, the rest of the afternoon was non-eventful. There were no major responses for the station; just a small incident for the paramedics and a rubbish fire for the engine crew.
When the dinner hour arrived, Mike volunteered to take the duty. He and the others were more than ready for a good hearty spaghetti meal and his was the best they knew of.
As they all sat down to eat, Johnny thought more about food and the five second rule. Man, I still can’t believe how many people would just as soon eat something off the ground . . . or the floor where Lord knows who all’ve walked by for that matter. . .rather than just consider it gone and toss it. I mean, it’s not like food’s that hard to come by that a guy’s gotta salvage every bite. . . or like it’s worth it just for a free turkey. And my own partner doing it, even if it is just at home. . .
He glanced at DeSoto and shook his head slightly. Roy, Roy, Roy.
“What?” the senior paramedic asked after he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.
Johnny startled somewhat, wondering if this was one of those strange occasions where if a person thinks too hard, the other ‘hears’ the thoughts. But with no more of a reaction from his partner, he shrugged it off. “Nothin’.”
Roy gave a wary look in return, then continued on eating. He had a feeling he knew exactly what was on Gage’s mind and wasn’t going to explain himself again.
With no calls after dinner, the men of Station 51’s A-shift relaxed while they watched a movie of the week on television. When it ended at 10:00, the captain called for lights out.
It was 2:00 in the morning before the men were awakened by the klaxon and dorm lights coming on. They quickly donned their turnouts and headed for the trucks in the apparatus bay. The call was for an unknown rescue outside of the city limits, not a good feeling for any of the crew who’d just been abruptly woken up.
“Joe’s Turkey Ranch?” Johnny questioned after reading the sign on a large rot iron gate with mesh lining on the other side of it.
“That’s what it says.”
“This oughta be fun. Except you think there’ll be any turkeys left?”
“If there are, I’m sure they’ll be disguised as something else.”
Johnny rolled his eyes, but he had to smile at the thought of turkeys wearing discarded Halloween costumes.
The squad and engine were only at the gate a minute before a man working at the place let them in. Captain Stanley questioned the employee after he and his men climbed out of their vehicles. Gobbles galore could be heard from off in the distance as he did so.
“What’ve you got?”
“A kid fell off one of our fences that surround the grounds. He was near the top and lost hold. Joe’s back there with the kid and his friend now. We think he might have a broken ankle.”
“How close are they? Can we walk there?”
“Sure. They’re right behind the turkey barn,” he said, pointing to a long one-story building. “Just follow the sound of the birds. They’re normally in at night but these kids got them all in a commotion and let them out.”
When he got a questioning look, he quickly explained, “The two teens were apparently trying to steal a turkey. I guess they didn’t realize I checked them at night. I heard all this noise and went to investigate. . .I saw two kids among the birds. They saw me, tried to get away and I guess they aren’t used to climbing fences in a hurry. One fell; the other was too scared to get started. The cops should be here any minute, so if you don’t mind, I need to stay here.”
“Not a problem,” Hank stated. “Roy, John, get your equipment, let’s go.”
After the boys were taken care of, one on his way to Rampart and the other to the police station, Johnny stood with the engine crew a moment as they all watched the turkeys under the large spotlight that was mounted over their pen.
“Hey, John. . .look. . .they’re eating off the ground.”
The dark-haired paramedic gave Chet a sour look, then nudged him in the shoulder as he stepped past. “Ha ha. Very funny.” He walked off toward the squad, already late meeting up with Roy at the hospital.
Johnny backed the squad into a parking space outside the emergency entrance at Rampart and climbed out, heading around the rear. His timing couldn’t have been better. . .or worse. Just as he came in view of the automatic doors, an elderly couple pulled up in a Studebaker Sedan. The man had been driving and got out, immediately running around to the passenger side of the car.
“My wife! My wife!” he hollered.
Gage hurried over to assist as the man opened the car door. He grunted as he tried to help his obese spouse from her seat.
“Here, let me,” Johnny stated. He moved in and started to ease the woman out. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She hasn’t been feeling like herself lately. You know. . . just not quite right. Then she twisted her ankle getting out of bed in the middle of the night. So we thought we’d better come here just to get her checked out head to toe.”
“Okay, well, go inside and get someone to bring out a wheel chair. We’re gonna need it.”
The man nodded and left. Johnny managed to get the obese woman out and was just helping her onto her good foot while trying to support her on the other side, when she quickly reached for something that was falling to the ground. Johnny didn’t have time to react; by the time he realized what she was doing, he was already on his way down as well, her sudden motion having knocked him off balance.
“My teeth!” she yelled. The woman fell on the hapless paramedic when she missed the dentures in mid air and went for them as they hit the ground. Johnny let out an ‘umpf, the wind knocked out of him; a sharp pain shot through his left side leaving him somewhat stunned.
The woman grabbed her upper dentures that had landed near Johnny’s head. Apologizing profusely, she worked her way off him just as her husband returned with an orderly and wheel chair.
“What happened? Are you all right?” the man asked his wife.
Still sitting on the ground, she replaced her teeth and nodded. “But he may need a wheel chair now too,” she said, indicating Johnny.
The paramedic remained lying on his right side, not sure he was ready for the pain he’d feel if he moved. He didn’t want her to know she’d done any damage. But he wasn’t an actor; he didn’t think he could hide the fact he was hurting pretty bad. He was more than grateful when Roy stepped out to see if he’d arrived yet. The couple went on inside with the orderly at his partner’s insistence and Johnny could be honest.
“Man. . .it hurts . . .,Roy,” he said between clenched teeth.
Lying in Treatment Room Four while he waited for a regular room upstairs, Johnny glanced at the doorway with droopy eyelids as Roy entered.
“What’d Cap say?” he asked sleepily, recently administered pain medication having an affect on him.
“That he’s just glad you weren’t hurt more seriously. He’s standing the squad down till B-Shift takes over in the morning and’ll get a replacement for you for next shift.”
“Guess I’ll miss Thanksgiving dinner, huh?”
“Looks that way. But with just three cracked ribs, you may be released in time to at least join us,” Roy reminded him with a smile. “You’re lucky you didn’t smack your head on the concrete.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t know how I avoided it though. Just lucky I guess,” he added, followed by a brief sigh. “Man, if they’d just been several seconds quicker with that wheel chair. . .”
“It’s a good reminder of how important timing is when it comes to other things besides food.”
“Ya got that right.”
Roy thought back to when he’d come out and the lady’s teeth were already back in place. He hadn’t known that they’d even fallen out until his partner told him later.
“Didn’t it bother you when she stuck her dentures right back in her mouth after they’d been on the ground?”
“Of course not," came a groggy reply. “What would make you think that?”
Roy just gave his partner a blank stare a moment, then turned toward the door without saying a word. He glanced over his shoulder as he walked over and reached for the door handle. Johnny was lying with his eyes closed, apparently nearly asleep.
In five seconds he managed to move on and once again leave me still stuck on one of his obsessions . . . there ought to be a rule against that.
As far as the ‘five second rule’ in real life, I don’t live by it. If I drop food, it’s considered gone. lol But some I know that do go by it, and let me know it existed, inspired this. :o)
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