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"See," Corry explained, "long ago, when a big enemy was defeated, the victor would decapitate him and stick his head on a pole." 

Scotty just gave him a look that screamed, tell me something I don't already know. 

"The enemy, I am thinking, was that clothing store on Shipyard Road. You know the one. It's frou-frou. Totally out of place here." Corry paused. "And," he became acutely aware that, once again, he was the only one holding up any end of the conversation. He held up all of the ends, like a fitted sheet he was trying to fold. "So someone got angry at the mannequins." 

Scotty shook his head. 

"Or, or," Corry offered, "huh. I dunno." 

"Ya ever been dragged shopping?" Scotty asked. 

"Yeah," Corry admitted. 

"The victor was some henpecked husband, then." 

"No wonder that place is going out of business," Corry mused.

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