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I scratched my earlobe as I considered the advantages and disadvantages of turning Chelsea into a vampiric pastry chef. That single moment of absent-mindedness and happenstance just happenstanced to change the course of my life.
Of course, I forgot to scratch aforementioned earlobe with the hand not holding my deadly wand. As fate would have it, as I scratched the afflicting ear with unoccupied fingers, I pointed the wand directly at my cranium while thinking, "On the other hand, vampiric pastry chefs throw great parties..."
With a puff of smoke and some singed hair, I found myself delightfully skilled at whipping up meringues and creating bear claws of the non-predatory variety.
Chelsea's sadistic laughter seemed to cut me through my very heart. Suddenly, overcome with a peculiar thirst for blood, I lunged at Chelsea.
The result: Congealed-blood-filled donuts.

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