John Drake Robinson
The idea came wrapped in a blue plate diner at a lunch counter with the menu marquee above the grill, handwritten specials taped to the walls and windows. At the end of the counter by the cash reister a chrome toothpick dispenser rolled out a round wooden memory chip of my meal. After chewing 4,223 memory chips and saving their remains in a cardboard box, I had sufficient pulp to tell the story.
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