Deep in the bowels of the stately but unpretentious EHEC league headquarters, in a sub-basement three flights of stairs down from an unmarked door in the lobby, over and through a hallway blockaded by a concerning stockpile of moldering fertilizer from a previous regime, there is an unused washroom with a locked supply closet, on the doors of which there is a poster advising 'to beware of the leopard' but within contains the last of the fleet of 'official' EHEC fax machines purchased wholesale in 2009 and then never pressed into widespread use as the obvious appeal of email and amusing full-colour scans of various bodyparts became immediately apparent to the entire cadre of General Managers around the league.
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Still, there is a fax machine down there and it did received a small flurry of transmissions in January, as our masked journalist/luchador was able to uncover, reprinted here:
The first: "I'mm back,'
Second: "Shit, sorry -- 'I'm back.'"
Third: "Zaq. This is Zaq by the way. From the time with the thing."
Fourth: "You know what, I'll send an email, that's better, let's try an email. This is a dumb bit."
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