General Fan Fiction posted February 26, 2012


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The sad case of Dingus Kincaid

Liars Corner

by pickthorn

                                           
                                                Liar's Corner

                                                 by Pickthorn


      Many years ago, when I was a young lad in my hometown of Evening Shade
Arkansas, I spent a lot of time down at Starkey’s General Store. Starkey had a
couple of tables set up in the rear of the store for the old timers to play checkers
and pass the time of day. They spent their days relating to each other and to
anyone who might listen, some of the most hair-raising and astonishing stories I
ever heard.

      What memories I have of the old boys sitting at those tables in their
overalls, while the potbelly stove gave off a sweet smell of burning hickory and
pine. A couple of spittoons sat close at hand for the tobacco chewers and snuff
dippers.

      This section of the general store was known as 'Liars Corner'. To me those
stories sounded so real I believed every word I heard.  I could visualize, in my
mind, each daring exploit or strange adventure described by the storyteller.


       There was one old fellow that was particularly adept at creating a sense of
awe and wonderment to my young and unassuming mind. His name was Jack
Kincaid,  but folks around town called him, 'Old Dingus'
.

      He was a retired Master Sergeant from the World War II era. Dingus didn’t talk
too much about the war or how he won the Medal of Honor. But it was common
knowledge that he had captured two hundred German soldiers single-handedly
somewhere in France when he was with General George Patton. He said it
pained him too much to relive those awful memories of the war. Old Dingus was
as much a hero to me as John Wayne, Clint Eastwood or Joe Namath, back
during the early seventies.

      I can still close my eyes and see him sitting there planning his next brilliant
move, at the checker table  while relating some hair-raising event that took place
during his adventurous life...like the time he was in the Army and got word that his
brother had died in Brinkley, Arkansas.  Dingus was determined to get home for
his brother’s funeral, even though he was in England at the time. He said he got a
'hop’ on a C-130 that was headed for Barksdale AFB in Louisiana. When the
plane flew over Brinkley, Dingus bailed out and floated right down to earth and
landed in the rear of the church where his brother’s funeral was taking place.  After he folded his chute, he entered the church in time to give the eulogy.

 

      Then there was the time when two dangerous convicts broke out of Cummins
Prison and were later cornered in a farm house near Gillette. The convicts were
holding three hostages inside the house. After a two-hour standoff, the sheriff
decided that it was time to call for Jack Kincaid to take charge of this extremely
dangerous situation.

      Dingus said, “When I got there, it was about sundown. The first thing I did was
get on the bull horn. I told them boys, 'This is Dingus Kincaid speaking. I’ll give
you fellers one minute to come out of there with your hands up or I’m coming in
after you and I won’t be taking any prisoners.'

 

      Needless to say the door opened and they called out, “Don’t shoot! We’re
coming out!” And out they came with their hands up. As they were being loaded
into the squad car, to be taken back to prison, one was heard to say, “we knew
we didn’t have a chance when we heard that Dingus Kincaid was out there.”

      Sometimes after I had listened to some extraordinary, daring exploit told by
one of the old gentlemen, I would relate the story to the folks at home around the dinner table

     .
Mama would ask, “Did you stop by Starkey’s today and listen to them checker
players telling all their tall tales?”

     “Yea, Ma. Old Dingus was telling about the time he went duck
hunting down on Peckerwood Lake. He shot a duck that fell in the lake and he
sent his old dog, Smokey into the water to fetch it for him. Smokey didn’t come back with the duck...What he had in his mouth was a ten pound bass. Dingus thought Smokey’s eyes were going bad 'cause he couldn’t tell the difference between a fish and a duck.  But guess what?  When Dingus got home and cut the fish open, he found the duck he shot.   Wasn’t that somethin'!"

 

       Daddy would smile and say, “Boy, you better stay away from that place. You’re gonna start tellin’  whoppers just like them old codgers down at the store."
"

      One day I stopped by Starkey’s after school but Old Dingus wasn’t there. His
chair at the head of the checker table was empty. I asked one of the old timers,
“Where is Dingus today? Is he okay?"

      “Dingus is in jail. Don’t you read the papers, boy? He’s got himself into one
heap of trouble.”

      Sure enough, when I got home I opened the Daily News Telegram. There it
was, on the front page in bold headlines:

Jack Kincaid Arrested
Charged With Assault, Resisting Arrest, DWI
And Reckless Driving

Jack “Dingus” Kincaid, 72,  was arrested yesterday afternoon after being pursued by police for ten miles on Highway 316. After he was finally pulled over by two state police units, he became belligerent and had to be subdued by the arresting officers. It was reported that two of the officers received serious injuries in their effort to arrest Kincaid. Mr. Kincaid will be arraigned in circuit court tomorrow before Judge Cosgrove.

      I couldn’t believe the incredible news about Old Dingus. What in the world
could have happened to cause him to act this way at his age? I was determined
to be present the next day when Dingus was arraigned before the judge, even if I
had to skip school that morning.

 

      I was sitting in back of the courtroom when they brought old Dingus in to plead
his case. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit with the words, 'PRISONER
SHARP COUNTY',  on his back. He had several bruises on his face and a white
bandage on the side of his head.

      Judge Cosgrove asked Dingus, “How do you plead to these charges, Mr.
Kinkaid?"

      “I’m innocent, Judge. Can I tell you what happened out there yesterday, your
Honor?”

      “I think that would be a good idea. I must admit that I was a bit shocked when I
read these charges."
.

      “Well, Judge, yesterday was the first day of deer season and I decided to go
out near Piney Ridge and get me a deer.  Well sir, I parked my old pickup at the
edge of the woods and walked about a mile down near Wilson’s Creek. I spotted
a big buck crossing right in front of me about a hundred yards away. I dropped
that deer right in his tracks with one shot from my .410 Winchester. It was a 14
pointer. I gutted him, but I knew I couldn’t carry that big buck back to my truck so
I left him there and went back to my truck to get a rope to drag it with."

  ,Dingus paused for a moment looking down at the floor,  as if he was trying to collect his thoughts. " Judge, when I got back to my truck I found that some low-down skunk had broken into my truck and stole my radio, sack lunch and spare tire. I was hoppin' mad but I wasn’t going to leave my deer down there in the woods, so I put my gun on the gun rack, locked the doors of my truck and headed back into the woods with my rope.".

 Kincaid was looking the judge eye to eye with a disgusted look on his face, as he said: " I tell you Judge Cosgrove, I was fit to be tied, when I got down there I found that some sorry son-of-a-gun had made off with my deer. Nothing there 'cept a pile of entrails. There was nothing I could do but go  back to my truck and call the law.

       You can imagine, judge,  what a shock I had when I discovered that somebody broke into my truck and stole my Winchester rifle, Your Honor. By that time, my nerves were shot  to hell, so I reached under my truck seat, where I had a pint of
Smirnoff hid, and I took a big slug to steady my nerves before heading for town to
get the sheriff."
.

       Dingus reached in his back pocket and pulled out a red handkerchief and wiped his brow.  "Damn it's hot in here."

      "No it's not,  we keep this courtroom at a constant seventy degrees.  Continue with  your story, uh, testimony, Mr. Kincaid."

       "Well, I was headin' for town when I seen a Jeep Cherokee pull out onto the
highway about a half-mile ahead of me..., lo and behold, Judge, those rats had
my 14 point buck tied to the hood of their truck. They saw me comin’ and took
off as fast as they could. 

,      Judge,  they weren’t about to get away from me, not with my deer, my rifle
and my baloney sandwich. I floor-boarded my old Ford and I was in hot pursuit
of those rotten thieves. 
I was closing in on ’em when I heard these sirens blaring.
 I looked in my rear view mirror and seen them blue lights flashing."

       "Mr. Kincaid,  why didn't you pull over when you heard the sirens and flashing lights?"
.
       "Judge,  I wasn’t gonna let them thieves get away from me, after what I had been through, so I kicked her up a notch and I must have been really flyin' there
for awhile. But when the shooting started and them bullets came sailing by my
ear I knew it was time to pull over."

       "What about these assault charges, Mr. Kincaid?".

        'Judge, them state troopers weren’t interested in anything I had to say. They
just started whuppin’ up on me with billy clubs. I didn’t want to hurt nobody but I
had to defend myself. I shore didn’t mean to break that feller’s jaw."

      "Mr. Kincaid, do you have anything further to add?"

      “That’s the whole story, Judge." Dingus smiled. "That’s the way it happened,
all right."

      "Mr. Kincaid,  I’m setting your bond at $500.00 and binding you over for trial
on December 9th at 10:00 a. m., "..... He banged his gavel and said, "Court
dismissed!" 

      Then as he turned to walk away, he looked back at Kincaid and
said, "By the way, Dingus... That was a dang good yarn... Good luck with it at
your trial.”

The End


                              The Texas Wranglers

 Texas Wranglers, a popular country music band, had just
finished the first of five shows at The Moonshine Club in Webb
City, Missouri. George Holmes, the leader of the band, was in
a foul mood as the band members were leaving the club and loading
their instruments into George's SUV.


Earlier that night, Holmes, who was slightly inebriated, had
lost his footing and fell off the stage while performing the closing
song. The crowd cheered when he managed to crawl back onto
the stage and finish the song.


The audience had given him a standing ovation, but the owner of
the club wasn't the least bit happy over the incident and told George,
"If you're drunk tomorrow night, don't bother to show up. You can
consider the week's engagement canceled. I'm not paying good money
for a bunch of drunks to come in here and give my club a bad name.
You got that?"

George started to slug the guy but restrained himself when his
fiddle player, Mel Hayward, touched his arm and quietly reminded him
of the $5000.00 they had been promised for playing the gig. The band
desperately needed the money they were to receive at the end of the
week.


As the other band members were loading their instruments into the
Ford Explorer, Mel motioned for Johnny Payton, to walk with him back
toward the club. Johnny was George's best friend, having been his bass
player and side-man for a number of years. Mel wanted to talk to him
privately about George. "Don't let George drive. He's too drunk, he will
get us all killed.

"Hell! You think I'm gonna tell him not to drive his own vehicle?...
as mad as he is right now at that club owner? You tell him!"


It was one o'clock in the morning when they finished loading and were
ready to leave for their motel in nearby Joplin. George sat behind the
steering wheel and Johnny was sitting next to him in the front seat. Mel sat
in the back seat with the drummer, Waymon Gentry, and the guitar man,
Willie Shelton.


George was still fuming over his confrontation with the club owner.
"That fat-ass tub of lard. Man, I'd like to punch him in the nose. I don't
let nobody talk to me like that."


Willie spoke up, "Nah, you done the right thing, George. When we
leave this joint on Friday, we can all kick his ass... but let's get paid
first."

Waymon said, "Alright, let's get movin'. I'm ready to crash."


Holmes took another swig from a fifth of Old Charter, then passed
the bottle around to the others and then turned on the ignition.


George had gone only five miles, when he took a wrong turn. Before
anyone realized what was happening, the Texas Wranglers were zipping
along the back roads of the Missouri hills at eighty-miles-per-hour. All
the passengers in the SUV were terrified and trying to get Holmes to slow
down but he wouldn't listen to anyone. He continued to speed through the
night with the windows rolled down and the cool night air blowing in his
face.


Finally, Johnny said, "Pull over right up here, George. I think you
need a little attitude adjustment before you kill us all... and I'm the
guy that's gonna give it to you."


George had never backed down from a fight in his life and said,

"Okay, Johnny. I'm in the mood to whip somebody's ass so it might as well be you."

He slowed down and pulled over on the side of the road. When the
Explorer came to a stop, Johnny jumped out and started rolling up his
sleeves. He started dancing in a circle on the side of the road, waving
his fists.


"Bring it on, George."


To his amazement, the wheels of the SUV started spinning and the
tires showered his face with gravel as they squealed and swerved onto
the pavement. George stepped on the gas and the Explorer reached a speed
of seventy-miles-per-hour in a matter of seconds.


Johnny stood there in disbelief, watching the tail lights of George's vehicle,
going from one side of the road to the other and thendisappearing over a
distant hill. He had no idea where he was. He only knew that he was out in
the boondocks, somewhere in western Missouri.


It was a bright, moonlit night as Johnny walked down the road in the direction
he had last seen the SUV speeding away from him. After about an hour, he decided that George wasn't coming back for him. "Damn fool... probably drove
off the side of a mountain and killed everybody,"  he muttered to himself.


After walking for another two hours and fighting the mosquitoes that
were feasting on his whiskey-laced blood, Johnny was exhausted. He came
to a crossroads and wondered if George had turned back south at this
point. He was needing sleep badly and knew he had to lie down somewhere
before he dropped. He thought this would be a good place to wait for the
boys to come back and find him when they sobered up the next day.


He was looking for a place away from the road where he could lie down
and sleep for the rest of the night. He saw a field of soybeans on the
north side of the road and thought about just lying down in the middle of
the field. He walked into the field, hoping he could find a place to sleep
where he would not be seen from the highway. As he got farther away from
the road, he saw the reflection of the moonlight on the tin roof of a big
barn. It was on the other side of the field, with a small farmhouse nearby.


He could see no lights from the house, so he thought he would try to
find a place to sleep in the barn. He felt lucky to find a nice pile of
fresh hay in the corner of the barn. He hit the hay with a sigh of relief
and within a minute or two he was sound asleep.


Johnny was rudely awakened the next morning by the feeling of
something poking him in the belly. He first thought someone in the band
was trying to wake him up. When he opened his eyes, he saw sunlight
streaming in through the cracks of the barn. He thought he was dreaming
when he looked up and saw an old fellow wearing overalls, looking down
at him. He discovered what had been poking him in his midsection. It was
a double-barrel shotgun that was now pointed right at his head.

"Jist who in the hell are you, young feller and what are you doin' in my
barn?"


Payton rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his mind and get his thoughts
together. "I ain't nobody, mister. I got stranded on the road and just
came in here to sleep for awhile."


"You're lyin'. You're the lowdown varmit that's been sneakin' around
here seein' my daughter. You're the one that knocked her up, aintcha?"


"No, no! You got me all wrong. I'm in a band called, 'The Texas
Wranglers' We was playing at the Moonshine Club last night in Webb City.
I ain't never been around here before. I don't know your daughter or
anybody else around here. So, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way."

"Get up, off your ass." He poked him again with the shotgun. "We're
goin' to see what my daughter has to say about this."

"Okay, mister, but be careful with that thing. It might go off."

"It sure as hell might! Now, get movin'."

The farmer marched Payton up to the house and called to his
daughter.

"Lula Mae, get on out here. Right now!"

A female, that looked to be about nineteen-years old, came out and
stood on the porch.

"Lula Mae, is this no-good polecat the man you've been sleeping with?"

"Oh Pa! Where did you find him?" She took her time and looked him over
closely. "Yeah, that's him, alright. His name is Johnny. Ain't he purty?"

The old man looked at Johnny and said, "Jist as I thought. I guess
you're gonna say your name ain't Johnny, when it's wrote right there on
the pocket of that fancy red shirt you got on. "

~~*~~

It was Saturday morning, and the band was still at the motel in
Joplin but packed and ready to leave. During the week, they had traced
their route to Webb City and found no sign of Johnny anywhere. They had
performed each night at the club without a bass player and Mel had to
take Johnny's place singing backup.

George was really getting worried and feeling guilty for leaving
Johnny. He wasn't about to leave town without finding him. "Okay, I'm
gonna call the sheriff and get the law out looking for Johnny. I thought
he would have been here by now. Surely he could have caught a ride with
somebody or even walked here by now. He knew where we were stayin'.
No tellin' where he is."


George had just picked up the phone to call the sheriff, when Mel
came through the door, excited. "I found him! I've been callin' all the
funeral homes, jails and hospitals and they got him in a hospital over at
Webb City. Some farmer peppered his ass with buckshot."

      "We need to get him outta there. We've gotta be in Galveston in two
days."

They checked out and immediately drove to Webb City. The first thing
George did when he walked into Johnny's room, was apologize. "I'm sure
sorry, Johnny. You know I would never have left you out there if I had been
sober. We have to be in Galveston by Tuesday night. You think you will feel
well enough to come with us?"

"Nah, George. The doc says I got another two or three days in here
before he'll turn me loose."

Just then, the door opened and a woman walked in. "Oh, I'm sorry.
I didn't know you had company. I'll come back later." She turned and left
the room.

George laughed and said, "Dadgum! Who was that? Or should I say what
was that... a man or woman?"

Willie commented, "Yep, I believe that gal has been whupped with an
ugly stick."

Waymon agreed, "I hope that wasn't your nurse, Johnny. I wouldn't even
want to get a sponge bath from somethin' that looked like that."


Mel chimed in, "Man, how would ya'll like to wake up in the morning
and see that face looking back at you?" Everyone had a good laugh.

All the band members were satisfied that they had done a good job of
cheering Johnny up. George felt happier than any of them that Johnny wasn't
holding a grudge against him for driving off and leaving him by the side of
the road that night.

"Well, Johnny. If you're going to be laid up for awhile, I guess we
had better get on down the road to Galveston. We will come back and see
you when we finish the gig."

Johnny was about to ask about his check from The Moonshine Club, when
he saw the door open slightly and a head peep through the door. It was the
same woman who had visited earlier.

"Johnny... I got to leave. Daddy wants me to come home and help him
with the chores, but I'll be back after supper."

She looked at Johnny's friends and smiled a broad, bucktooth smile.
"We ain't been introduced, but Johnny has told me all about The Texas
Wranglers. I'm so proud to make your acquaintance. I'm Lula Mae.....
Johnny's new wife!"

Exceptional
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A tragic Post Office shooting by a fired employee
Post Office Tragedy by pickthorn

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Fear and dread swept over Earl Hollis

when he heard the announcement on

the intercom, "Earl Hollis... report to the

tour superintendent's office."

Hollis had been expecting the call and

knew he was in deep trouble. He went

to the office and opened the door without knocking. He saw the superintendent,

Roger Pike, sitting behind his desk with Earl's supervisor, Larry Hensley,

sitting in a chair next to Mr. Pike.

"Have a seat," Pike said, as he motioned toward an empty chair in front of his

desk. "Mr. Hollis, you have received two letters of warning because of your

poor attendance record in the past two months. Now we find you have been

absent from work twice in the last week. This behavior cannot be tolerated. I

have no choice but to terminate your employment."

Hollis was stunned. He was expecting a short suspension, but termination? How

could Pike consider such a drastic option? He had given nineteen years of

service to the Postal Service.

"Mr. Pike, you know my situation. My wife is dying of cancer and she has no one

but me to look after her."

"Well, you will have all the time in the world to look after her now... your

employment here is terminated. I have offered you a leave of absence to take

care of your personal problems and you refused, so I have no other choice but

to let you go."

"I couldn't afford a leave of absence. I need a paycheck coming in every week.

I have a ton of medical bills that I can't pay. I'm drowning in debt."

"That's not my problem, Mr. Hollis. My job is to get the mail out on time. Your

absence from work has been hindering that process."

He turned to Earl's supervisor. "Mr. Hensley, Hollis will want to file his

grievance with the union, so set that up for him. After he cleans out his

locker, please escort him out of the building."

"O.K., Mr. Pike.... Let's go, Hollis. I'll get you a union steward... then you

can get your stuff from your locker."

Hollis pleaded with his supervisor, "Larry, you know this ain't right. I've

been here nineteen years. I only need another five years to retire."

"That's tough, Earl, but I have warned you about what would happen if you kept

missing work. Now it's too late."

After filing his grievance with the steward, Hensley escorted him out of the

Fort Smith General Mail Facility. Earl's head was spinning. What was he going

to tell his wife? According to her doctor, she only had a few weeks to live

.When Earl arrived home after he was terminated,  he went to the bedroom

where he knew his wife, Laura,  would be in bed.   The blinds were closed and

the drapes were drawn.  An eerie feeling of impending death swept over him as

he looked upon hiis cancer striken wife in the gloomy darkness of their bedroom

  She was sleeping peacefully and Earl was thankful that he didn't have to tell her

that he had been fired, at that moment.    He turned to leave when he heard her

speak.

     "Earl, what's wrong?  Why are you home from work, at this time of day?"

     ""Oh,Honey, don't be alarmed, but.  I..I've been fired,  but it's only temporary, I

will win my grievance and I will get my job back in a couple of weeks and they wil

lpay me for the time I was off.  Now don't worry, we will be alright."

      "Oh, my God!  Why are we being punished this way?  It's just not fair."  She

began to cry.

During the time his grievance was being processed, Hollis was able to find a

part-time job driving a cab. Six weeks after his termination from the post

office, he received notice that the bank was foreclosing on his home. He

borrowed five hundred dollars from his brother and sold his wife's 1995 Honda

for twelve hundred dollars. After paying three months back payments, the bank

withdrew the foreclosure process.

The pressure of his financial problems continued to grow and worrying

about his wife's illness became more and more depressing. Earl became bitter,

blaming the Post Office for all his problems.

The following month, his beloved wife Dorothy said goodbye for the last time.

She died peacefully as Earl held her hand and watched his wife of twenty-two

years breathe her last breath.

A week later he received the final blow. When the doorbell rang, he opened the

door to find a messenger standing there, smiling.

"Special delivery for Earl Hollis."

His hands trembled as he opened the special delivery letter. It read:

'Dear Mr. Hollis, after careful consideration of all the evidence presented in
your grievance, Case #468215, we regret to inform you that you have not 
offered sufficient evidence to substantiate your claim of wrongful termination.
Therefore your grievance has been denied. It has been decided that your
former employer, the U.S. Postal Service, acted in accordance with U.S. rules
and regulations set forth in the U.S. postal manual and code of conduct when
terminating your employment.'

Step four Arbitration Judge: Frank Brinkhouse'


It was a bright, sunny day on March 13, 1996... 9.15 A.M. at the Fort Smith

GMF. Roger Pike was sitting behind his desk when he heard two gunshots ring

out from somewhere in the building. He ran and opened his office door. People

were screaming and running in all directions.

Pike saw his secretary running toward him after coming back from the break

room.

"Judy, what's happening!"

"It's Earl Hollis! He just shot Larry Hensley and he's coming for you!"

Pike knew that if Hollis found him, he would only have seconds to live. He ran

for the back of the building and went out the exit to the loading dock. When

Pike left his office, his secretary ran into the office and locked the door.

Ten seconds later, Hollis viciously kicked the door loose from its locked

position. Judy was petrified when she saw Hollis standing in the doorway. She

screamed when she saw the madman holding a Remington 30-30.

"Where's Pike!"

"Oh, Earl ! Please don't kill me!"

"I ain't gonna kill you. Where is he?"

"He just ran out of here. I think he went outside."

Earl ran across the nearly empty workroom floor. The few remaining employees

were running for the nearest exit. He could hear the sirens blaring as every

police car in town was heading for the GMF.

Hollis realized that Pike had managed to escape. His main concern now was to

get away. He had planned to take his own life after killing Pike, but now he

wanted to get away so he could take care of Pike later.

He ran through the exit to the back dock where five postal trucks were lined

up at the dock.  The mail carriers had just loaded their trucks and were ready for

their morning deliveries, but ran in all directions when the shooting started.

Earl saw the keys in the ignition of the first mail truck and jumped behind the

wheel. The tires squealed as he left the yard behind the post office, heading

down a back street. He turned onto Mulberry Street and immediately faced a

roadblock. Three police cars were blocking the intersection and waiting for

him with drawn rifles and automatic weapons.

Hollis knew this was the end of the line. His final thoughts were... he had

killed an innocent man and failed to achieve his one goal...to get Pike. He

stepped on the accelerator, heading the truck through a small opening between

two patrol cars. As he tried to pass through, the police opened fire with

shotguns and automatic fire from M-16s. The windshield exploded. Within

seconds, the truck was riddled with close to one hundred rounds.

The truck bounced off one of the patrol cars, then traveled a few more feet

before coming to a stop. Blood was gushing from several wounds in his

abdomen, chest and neck as Earl grabbed his stomach and fell onto the

floorboard of the truck.

The police cautiously approached the shot-up vehicle. Hollis knew he was dying.

He opened his eyes as he lay in a pool of blood, his life rapidly coming to an

end. He could not believe the scene before him. Lying two feet away, staring

into his face, were the lifeless eyes of the man he had come to kill, Roger

Pike. Parcels and letter trays were scattered in heaps across his body. It was

then Earl realized that Pike had sought refuge in the same mail truck he had

used for his own escape. The police had riddled both men full of bullets.

There was a smile on Earl's face as he said, "Well, Pike, I got you after

all... See you on the other side.
 
 

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