Take This Prompt And Make It Your Own

So, at the request of @TigerGirl110011 I am making another one of my “Take this sentence prompt and rewrite it in your own style” threads to help us all get our creative juices flowing!

So here’s your prompt for today. Have at it!

Nothing went as planned.


I love all the responses that normally pop up to these threads I create, and think so many of them are awesome and great! So what I am thinking about doing is something a little different this time. And if for some reason what I am about to propose is not allowed, I would appreciate it if one of the Moderators here would let me know and I will gladly modify or delete this part of the post.

So, this is my proposal. With the expressed permission of each person who takes part in this thread, I would like to take the responses and compile them into a book on the Wattpad main site where I will publish your take on the sentence above along with your Wattpad username to help promote the participants. Sound cool? Or sound dumb? If enough people agree I will do this. And also assuming that what I propose is allowed.

IMPORTANT! THIS IS NOT A CONTEST! I won’t judge anyone’s work! There are NO PRIZES!

The only two things I ask is that:

  1. Whatever you respond with that it cannot be something that would cause the book I propose to publish with your responses in them as “Mature”.
  2. Your response must be kept to 500 words.

Thank you!

So, to help facilitate this task of compiling the responses, I ask that you please provide your answer in the following format:

Permission to Use: Yes or No

My response will be below in a couple minutes.

Marinda stared at the beast as it reared up and roared before dropping down to all fours and charging. Her feet wanted to move, but they could not. The only reaction she could muster was to watch silently as Kort and Tsala bore down upon where she stood in a panicked sprint for their own lives. That was when she saw the dragon slam to a dead stop and cocked its head back. Still standing frozen, the mage was absolutely certain what was coming next.

“It’s getting ready to breathe fire!” Marinda yelled at the top of her lungs, snapping out of her trance.

The two barbarians were both waving frantically for her to start running, but Marinda knew that there would be nowhere to run. The flames from the dragon’s mouth would engulf the cave and everything in it. They would reach the exit in time.

With that realization, the mage threw out her hands in front of her and to the sides. She heard the gurgle of the viscous fluid in the dragon’s gullet that would be ignited to form the fireball to burn them all alive. Clenching her hands as though grabbing at the very stone of the walls themselves, Marinda closed her eyes and found every last one of the strands of earth magic this place possessed and latched on to them.

She felt them resist her as the first sparks of flame were growing in the dragon’s maw. Marinda strained and pulled harder, feeling the stones give away as if they were attached to invisible ropes. A first boulder fell from the ceiling, hitting the beast upon its shoulder and throwing it off kilter. Then another fell, striking its wing. That one pulled the beast down and pinned it to the ground. The dragon tried to unleash its final attack, but was thwarted just as the entire cave collapsed and gave way, burying it in a tomb of stones and tossing Marinda to the ground.

Coughing, she laid in the thick dust that her actions had caused to fill the cave. The dirt and the thunderous boom blinded her senses. She could not see, nor could she hear anything but the results of what she had done. The dust gagged her and forced her to dry heave painfully. Thankfully, the bulk of it settled quickly, and it was the sound of Halen, also coughing, that made her realize the roar of the cave-in was finally fading.

“Damn!” the thief spat out between breathes as he crawled over to where she was. “I didn’t know you could do that!” he exclaimed excitedly.

Marinda coughed up dust filled mucus before answering him. “We needed a plan C. It was all I could think of.”

Genre: Fantasy
Permission to Use: Yes


Response: Nothing went as planned. Not that it ever did, Veta hat gotten used to that by now. But it usually didn’t go this wrong. Her skeleton key had wandered off yesterday, and it likely wouldn’t come back for another few days. So she had been forced to crack the lock by hand - and she was out of practice, so work had been slow. The banshee who started to wail as soon as the door opened had been surprisingly easy to mute.

She should’ve known. It had been too easy to just slip in and close the door behind herself. It had also been too easy to find the stairs to climb and the hallway to walk down to where she knew the study was.Only it wasn’t where she knew it was, because apparently her sources now sold her bad information.

The house was large, so she had had to look into every room to find what she was looking for. The amount of bedrooms she saw was staggering. How could a person have a house with this many bedrooms in it? Veta didn’t even have a proper bed - but then again, that had been why she had broken in. She was working towards being able to afford one.

The door that opened to the study was the same ominous black as all the other doors in the house she had stuck her head through before. But when she touched the handle, it was so cold to the touch that it made a tingle run up her arm. For the first time in the evening, she had hesitated. And then she remembered what lay behind the door and what she had been promised to retrieve it. All the cold was likely to mean was a harmless curse to ward off thieves. She would be able to just sleep it off.

Decidedly, she pushed down the handle and inched the door open in increments to avoid noise. A peek inside the room revealed a giant, gnarled desk in the middle of the room, illuminated by the silver light of the early moon. What it did not reveal, however, was the man in the corner of the room who cleared his throat as soon as she had crossed the threshhold.

“May I please have your attention,” he said. “Because I do believe your life now depends on it.”

Well, that had certainly not been a part of the plan.

Genre: Mystery
Permission to Use: Yes


Response: She was supposed to slip on the bannana peel, fall onto the whoopie cushions, and notice the fake poop under the rental cow, who would be sitting next to her.
That’s not what happened.

The whole family had prepared this for her, well, in spirit if not in fact, and I had even chipped in on renting the cow.
See, Mila would always prank the rest of us and laugh uproariously about it after. That had always been the way of things. But at breakfast a week ago, after being convinced that the greens Mila had bought were actually garden moss, dad had finally had enough.

“I think it’s time we were the ones laughing. don’t you guys think?”
Mom had already left for work and taken the boys to kindergarden and Mila had left for work too. It was just me.
“We’d be happy to! I think mom especially would love the idea!”
This was sarcasm, as he should have seen. My mother isn’t the pranking sort.
But dad was too far into his head to notice my sarcasm or the fact that I was speaking for empty space. He eagerly began to plan, never noticing that I was the only one at the table. He even canceled work and rented a huge chalkboard to draw his plans on. But then he realized that there would be no way to hide it. So he returned it to the chalkboard rental agency, much to my disappointment.
I watched with much interest as lightbulbs went off in his unfathomable mind, causing him to say, “Aha!”
He started to get the whoopie cushions out of the closet, then flinched in disgust.
“Eww, poop! Wait, no, it’s fake poop! I’ll have to find a way to get this in.”

Mom was mystified at all the significant glances and smiles he threw at us the next day, and when he brought up renting a cow she frowned and said “This is sudden, but I guess I wouldn’t mind some fresh milk.”
I then heard mom casually mention it to Mila, ruining the planned surprise.
Once we got the cow home we realized that we had nowhere to put it, so we let it roam around the neighborhood in the hopes it would find its way back.
It didn’t- but it did find its way into the news, and new rules were immediately implemented by the cow rental agencies as a response to the controversy.

And when the day he had planned to prank came, dad realized that we didn’t have a banana peel.
“Drat, I assumed it would be so easy to get ahold of! We’ll just have to use the fake poop as an object for her to slip on.” said dad, vexed.
But it so happened that mom was home early that day.
She was the one to slip on the fake poop and land on the whoopie cushions.
“What is this,” she said, and I knew we were in for it.
Genre: Humour
Permission to Use: Yes.


My heart was pounding. My hands were sweating so much I had to wipe them on my jeans. I stared at the words I’d just written on the hastily torn piece of notebook paper: Will you go with me to prom?

It was now or never. I folded the sheet of paper until it was a small triangle. The teacher’s voice was a muffled, far-away sound behind the pulsing of blood near my ear drums. I looked across the aisle at Jacquelyn sitting at the front of her row. Her chin up - concentrating, focused. Her dark hair made an undulating line that pointed my eyes down her back, across her hips, down the smooth skin of her caramel legs. How would I get it to her? Would she say, “yes”? Did she know my name? Did she know I had left the flowers at her locker the week before, or her favorite candy (skittles) the week before that?

“If you don’t try, you’ll regret it. You’ll drown in a sea of what-ifs,” I heard my older and much wiser sister’s voice on repeat in my head. I felt a twitch in my shoulder, only to look down and see my arm tossing the note toward Jacquelyn. Traitor! What the hell was it-

“Mitchell.” The teacher speaking my name was like a gun going off. Suddenly, all eyes were on me. Mr. Roberts was holding the folded paper. I was very, very present in this moment. My mouth went dry. “And, for whom was this missive intended?” asked Mr. Roberts.

Think fast, Mitchell. I looked around the room. Trash can. Desk. Flag. You can do this. Chalk board. Textbook. Backpack. She’ll never say “yes” like this. Computer. Window. Window. Can I jump out the window? Think! Pencil sharpener. Periodic Table. Notebook. Ralph Winslow. “Ralph Winslow!” I stammered. Ralph Winslow? Ralph, the school bully, one time he pushed you down the bleachers and you had a sprained ankle, Winslow?

Mr. Roberts casually tossed the paper triangle onto Ralph’s desk and continued with his lecture. My whole body went slack with relief. There was still a chance with Jacquelyn. I just had to get the note from Ralph before he-

Ralph had the note open in front of him. He looked me in the eyes, all the way into the bottoms of whatever shoes my soul happened to be wearing.

“Sure,” he said.

Genre: Teen
Permission: Sure


Response: The old man walked out of his carriage and slowly approached Layla with a frown. His frown had somehow been able to shape a fire above his eyebrows. His glasses only had one lens, while the other one on his left seemed to easily fall off.

Once the old man got closer to Layla, he put one of his hands on her shoulders. “The British have declared war.”

Layla looked at the old man both surprisingly and suspiciously. Once she saw the old man’s reaction she quickly let out a tear.

“But the letter, the speech, didn’t it work?” Layla said, then looked at the hard cold floor. More tears soon started to escape from her eyes, and soon enough the were between the cracks of the stones.

“I’m sorry,” the old man began. “but this means the end.”

Genre: Historical fiction
Permission to Use: Yes



Nothing went as planned, but that was entirely the way Miho liked it.

Jazz would groan about how much unforeseen circumstances and Miho’s trademark spontaneity cost their operation, but at the end of the day she would also admit things always worked out in their favour.

Still, Professor Newtbard Tresable was an ongoing source of disappointment and tribulation.

“So, you’re really doing this whole prompt response thing on my watch?” Miho muttered, sweeping down the hall of the Philosophicious Assembly of Preternatural Cognition. “Almighty Engineer, if that isn’t a mouthful.”

“Talking to yourself again, Arr Miho?” came a timely intrusion into Miho’s far too external commentary on naming conventions.

“Oh well, Inquestor Galleon,” she greeted pithily. “More often than not I’m the only one worth talking to.”

“You’re here to conference with your father I take it?” he enquired, ignoring the customary way in which she commenced conversation. “In light of recent happenstance, I cannot say I am surprised.”

“Happenstance?” Miho snorted in a most undignified manner. “You mean, surely, his drunken debauchment with First Sister Sarafine Duphonse of the Crytechnic Order and subsequent expulsion from the Sage Monument in naught but his pubic hair?”

“I was attempting to be tactful,” Galleon pointed out wryly, the charm of his modest smile not lost on Miho despite her adamant declarations to the contrary.

Her nose wrinkled.

“Not your strongest quality,” she admonished sourly. “Why are you here, or is yet another case of you chasing skirt?”

“You are so infrequently wearing a skirt, I thought it might make for a pleasant change,” he replied, lips forming something a little more roguish.

Clicking her tongue, Miho began again down the corridor, the inquestor to her left.

“In the interests of full disclosure, Arr Miho, I was pursuing links between Cardinal Duniel and the Palenthorpes, but Professor Tresable’s display of questionable judgement has caused the honourable dogmatist and his ilk to close ranks.”

“Palenthorpes again?” Miho sighed. “I am surprised you have not yet accused me of being in league.”

“Where in the ungreased menagerations is that wayward child of mi…” Professor Tresable grumbled, stomping out into the hallway with a brass-caged glowing shard of something in one hand.

“At least you’re wearing clothing this time,” Miho huffed, plucking the object from his hold. “Still inebriated though; I obviously inherited liver fortitude from Mother.”

“I am afraid I’ll have to monopolise the professor’s attention, Arr Miho,” Galleon asserted. “Official business of the Scholariate cannot wait.”

“I didn’t realise the Scholariate authorised personal crusades, Inquestor,” Miho snarked.

Yes. Snarked is an entirely legitimate mode of attribution.

“They do when provided evidence to warrant investigation,” he clarified, while Professor Tresable looked between the pair in confusion. “My superiors were easily convinced to approve further Palenthorpe inquiry when presented with trading dockets between your father and Markom Strom Brassen.”

Because this has to remain PG, Miho internalised all the explicit curses she might otherwise have inflicted upon those around her, uttering only this.

“Friggin’ Strom Brassen.”

Genre: Steampunk adventure
Permission to use: Yes (but this will appear in the story to which the characters belong - as yet unnamed)


Response: Nothing went as plan, why would it? Camila Harris was by far the worst assassin she thought had ever existed. No matter how many shots she took, she always shot the wrong guy. She had one target. One. Damned. Target.

She tried poisoning him at first, but she put the pill in his wife’s drink by accident. Though it was quite a scene when his wife starting having a seizure and he was calling out for help while Camila sighed silently as she marked one of many failed attempts off the list.

She then tried seducing him, which, god knows, that didn’t work. She really never wanted to even come to this attempt, for frick’s sake, his wife just died. Camila had to take the role of a prostitute to attempt to lure this one guy in. Well, he denied her, which hit her ego pretty hard. She then got hit on by three other men which led to three secret murders, and then she lost her target as the police soon showed up for the sight of a prostitute.

Then came attempt number three of forty-thousand where she tried the fun, let’s kill him with guns strategy. She had just missed, twice. The guy wasn’t even moving, he just stood there with his ear pods in while scrolling through his phone. It was the pedestrians that kept throwing her off. This leads back to now where Camila loads her last bullet, of this round, up. She hears the soft click of her gun and takes her aim, shooting. Her heart jumped as the bullet hit — the wrong target. Some stupid pidgeon wanted to be the new indicated target.

“God (damnit)!” Camila screamed as she walked away from the roof top, her head steaming with rage. This was the fourth assassination that she has failed this week, granted she has killed eighteen people by accident, but nothing was going her way.

Camila cursed as a large body ran into her own as she took the stairs down the building. Falling backward, she let out a string of bad words as she looked up to see, god forbid, her target. He was quick to help her to her feet before apologizing profusely. Camiila thought that now was her chance, it was now or never. With a hidden knife, she quickly grasped the blade and slashed, or attempted to, the man’s neck. Except, the blade never reached his skin as it went right through him, like a ghost.

Camila was hushed as the guy looked at her with a soft expression on his face. The knife dropped with a clank as Camila just wanted to scream to ask God what the hell she was dealing with. She didn’t have to wait long as the guy broke out in laughter,

“You’re the one that’s been trying to kill me, that makes so much sense.” The guy chuckled as he adjusted his top hat and tie.

“Didn’t you know that you have been making my job so easy? I feel like I’m going out of business here.” Camila looked up confused by the crazy-looking man. Her facial expression said it all as her eyebrows raised upwards and her lips pouted.

“What do you mean? Your job? Aren’t you a businessman?”

“I guess you can say that,” the man chuckled as he gave Camila a quick glance before muttering something quietly to himself. Camila almost picked up on it, so she did what any other annoyed citizen might due, she asked the mystery ghost man.

“Say that again a little louder Mr. I-Am-Unkillable.” The guy belted out laughing as he shook his head and gave Camila a small grin.

“I said you are perfect for the job.”

“What do you mean?”

The guy tilted his hat forward as he leaned closer toward’s Camila, this was the first time she really got a good look at his maroon eyes and slightly pointed — fangs?

“You know me pretty well, or should I say, my title. My name is Hades, and you, my darling, might be a nice Queen.”

And Camila’s first thought, believe it or not, was nothing went as planned.

Genre: Paranormal/Comedy
Permission to Use: Yes


My eyes glance everywhere, taking in the dirt hallways. These corridors in which Eden, Skylar, and I walk have cobwebs and insects crawl or unknown things scuffle about. An eerie silence surrounds us, a nervous and scared silence. Skylar holds up his hand in a stop motion and we dive into another room just as footsteps and voices are now able to be heard.

“What are you doing in here children?” a voice in the darkness of the room says in a hushed tone.

My eyes flicker to where the voice came from to see a light and a young man, twirling a glowing knife that just radiates magic. My whole body goes tense, this wasn’t part of the plan. What do we do? I need to formulate a plan, right now!

“Oh, well, it’s me Skylar. We’re looking for my dad and, Liam, and I was wondering if you could tell us. These two want to join the society,” Sky says, his voice calm and smooth, yet holding some arrogance.

“Yes, Skylar has told us about the society and their cause. We would like to join it, for we like the reasoning. The “good” people are jerks, and we want to rid this world, all worlds, of them,” I say, making air quotes for the good part.

The man nods at Skylar, then looks at me suspiciously. I flash a smile before saying, “So could you show us the way?” The glare of Skylar pierces into my head, and I soon find myself looking into his eyes. He mouths, “Cynthia, shut up!” before returning to his cheerful look at the man. The man, in his late twenties I’m guessing, tells us the directions and then we head off, barely even muttering a thanks.

We reach the door, and I grab the door handle, shivers going down my spine. This has been too easy, something is bound to go wrong. We are just three kids, after all. I open the door, my brain screaming at me not to step in, but I gulp down the fear and step in. Eden and Skylar soon follow after, and a booming voice echoes in the room.

“Welcome, goodlings. Son, I’m disappointed in you,” he says, faking his niceness.

Skylar growls and steps up to be right next to me. I, on the other hand, am frozen in place, unable to move. Eden seems to have the same problem as I. A creaking sound of gears shifting and moving sound underneath us and a trap door opens. I’m falling through the air along with my companions. Suddenly, I jerk to a stop, being caught by a rope, and swing around a bit, seeing a swinging Skylar right beside me, as well as an Eden on the other side.

“This… did not go as planned,” I voice out, a sigh escaping my lips.

“No kidding,” Eden responds, “that dumb guy just threw us ladies down a hole. Well… Skylar isn’t a lady, so he’s okay.”

“He’s… He’s disappointed in me, Cynthia. He’s disappointed,” Skylar says, his voice small and filled with shock.

My chest fills with sympathy and kindness toward the normal cocky and arrogant boy, and I just say, “I’m sorry Skylar.”

Genre: Fantasy
Permission to Use: Yes

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These are all really great so far!

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Subscribing for later.

Why thank you bows dramatically

You’re awesome @TigerGirl110011

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Thanks bro

Response: A red tailed hawk flew through the night sky above the city lights of New York. It looked down beneath it as it passed over central park, swooping down lower to the trees and spotting a couple kissing on a park bench. The hawk flew directly into their faces in a flurry of feathers and chaos, causing a few shouts of anger from the pair. Once it had accomplished its mission of pissing the love birds off, the hawk flew up into a tree and screeched at them, flapping its wings defiantly in a show of dominance. The male human gave a rude hand gesture before he and his partner headed off to find another place to make out and left the Hawk sitting up in the tree.

Garick had been having far too much fun while out in bird form and knew that he was probably pushing his luck. He’d been gone for a little over an hour and still had to return home. Deciding to start back, he picked up some wind under his wings and took to the skies again, leaving his perch behind. Once he reached the familiar house he called home, he swooped down in through the open window and landed gracefully on the sofa.

The last few months, Garick had been working on controlling his transformations from human to hawk and vice versa. Tonight marked the second time he was able to make a transformation willingly. The control he had over how long he remained a hawk was still limited though. It usually lasted a few hours if left to luck, but he was trying to force himself into initiating the transformation back on his own. Garick closed his animal eyes and focused, trying to force himself back into a human form.

A few moments passed and Garick opened his eyes once again, still covered in feathers. He let out a frustrated screech and started flapping his wings, picking up random objects in his living room with his talons and tossing them around the room, throwing a temper tantrum. After a good half an hour of this, he landed on the floor and layed down, exhausted.

The sound of a key jiggling the handle of the front door caused the hawk to look over in a panic. The new guy renting a room from Garick had no idea he was a shifter. A tired male opened the door only to stop dead in his tracks. Shocked, he first looked to the feathers and random objects littering the room, then to the hawk on the floor. If Garick had been capable of speech in this form, he would have used a few choice words about now. Nothing ever went according to plan.

Genre: Modern Fantasy

Permission to Use: Yes

Note, I edited it, as the version I wanted to use didn’t copy to my clipboard when I thought it did.



It was a cold, ugly night. The rain came down in sheets and the waves crashed against the rocky shore, and when the thunder cracked overhead it rattled the windows. Mordecai wrapped himself in the blankets he’d carried from his bed to his chair by the iron stove, thankful of the thick, sturdy walls of the lighthouse that shielded him from the wind and rain without draft or damp.

He didn’t envy the sailors that were still at sea in the tempest, but he knew that the great lamp above was well stocked with whale oil and shining its beacon out over the waters. In a few hours he’d need to climb the steps to check that the light, but for now he could sit with his tea and the comfort that those coming into port would reach it safely.

If they reached port at all, of course.

The lighthouse’s beacon only reached so far, and its guiding light couldn’t save a ship from the storm itself cracking apart its hull. How quickly were such leaks discovered? Did anyone hear the rush of water flooding in over the howling winds? Did they think the cracking of the beams was thunder? What came next, when your only chance was to pray you could bail out the water faster than it came in or else gamble on a very small life-boat in a raging sea.

He didn’t know, and he didn’t think he ever would. Patrick would have told him, had he lived. Patrick had been born with a gift for words, and he could spin a story that kept Mordecai entranced long into the night. Every time there had been those three sharp knocks on the lighthouse door he had rushed to usher Patrick in and demand tales from his latest voyage. Each would end with the promise that someday he would take Mordecai far from the dusty old lighthouse and show him what lay beyond their little island home. Someone else could tend the wicks and polish the soot from the glass day after day. He and Patrick were going to sail the world.

Nothing ever went as planned.

Mordecai had known something was wrong long before the news of the wreck reached him. The ship had been due days ago, and he’d stood on the lighthouse gallery from dawn until evening with an eye on the horizon as he prayed for a glimpse of sails. None had ever come, and he was given the news weeks later.

So here he sat, tending the lighthouse as his father had, and his father before him, and his father before that. Any hope of a different life had been dragged under the waves and lost to the depths.

He closed his eyes and tried to let the cup of tea in his hands warm the chill from his bones.

He didn’t see the shadow that passed by the window, one slow step at a time.

There were three sharp knocks on the door.

Genre: Paranormal
Permission to Use: Yes


More great responses! Hope to see more!

Waiting for an outcome of something important made everyone kind of freak out, didn’t it? Michael has been waiting for past twenty minutes as his sister tried to convince their father about letting them go for a road trip with some friends. It was only for a weekend then why wouldn’t he approve? Well, there were many reasons why he wouldn’t.

First reason, Anna had just gotten driving license, which could be dangerous for her to drive. She didn’t have much experience in driving or driving out of their small town at all.

Second reason, Michael had a fear of driving. Now, of course, this could be a laughable reason! But he just couldn’t help it. Ever since their mother’s accident, he got shaken every time he sat behind the wheel.

Third reason, probably the most important one. They were still underage. Yeah, this one could be really bad one. Their dad was really protective of them ever since their mom passed away and now, he was supposed to let them go on a road trip? Alone? In a car? They were surely out of their minds!

So, their thought of a plan! Anna didn’t have a license of a long time, but she won’t be able to learn to drive perfectly if she won’t go explore outside of their town, right?

Michael won’t drive. He won’t go even near the driving wheel!

Kenzie’s brother is an adult which could mean, they will be always supervised. No one will do anything rude, disrespectable or stupid to get into a trouble. Everything would be fine!

As Michael was going through all this in his head again, Anna walked out of their dad’s study, looking solemn.

“So? What happened? Did he agree? He must have agreed, right? We had everything planned out!” he started talking quickly, trying to calm himself down by saying this.

“Nothing went as planned.” Her response was loud and clear. Anna clenched her teeth, breathing deeply through her nose. In this state, she looked like she could murder someone. Michael took few steps back from his twin sister before she started throwing punches.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked slowly. Everything was perfectly planned out!

“He will let us go on the road trip.” She replied. Just as Michael was about to jump up from excitement, she crashed his happy mood. “Mason has to go with us. He is an adult. He can drive. And he is perfectly responsible for what he is doing.” Anna was imitating their dad with everything she had.

“Mason? Our cousin?”


That’s how their road trip got to be the most boring one. Mason just made sure of it. That guy didn’t have a word fun in his dictionary…

Genre: Teen fiction
Permission to Use: Yes


Another great response!

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Great job

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