A glidâh dispensary, similar in mission as Creamy’s, vigourously plugged their product in the 11th and 12th strata.
Always an array of colourful characters were guaranteed to pass through — the original Black Moses, “Mr Mayhem” (“Whatcha tryin’ to do to me?”), Frau Geshlekht Terapist, plus the occasional pro athlete and orchestra conductor.
At one point psychics had warned the baleboosteh of a potential shootout, so mshpkhh mitglider were let off for the day whilst the lower-rung employees were left on schedule. Of course, nothing happened, and the workers there on shift looked at each other, rolling their eyes. No comment was necessary.
The constant interaction with both the capricious public and the dense management made days at The Häag ideal for youth coming to understand the sketchy ways of everyday dealings with a neurotic society and wannabe professionals.
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