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- Article Excerpt (Intro): In the tangy, candlelit halls of Castle Droughmoore, one baked potato makes a catastrophic wrong turn. SadSpud was meant to join the prestigious Cult of Butterworth, bask in buttery glory, and finally claim his destiny. Instead, he stumbles into the Cult of Sourcream—a velvety, tangy circle of dairy devotees who welcome him with open spoons. Butterworth is outraged. Chaos, slippery betrayal, and tangy initiation follow in this whimsical gothic tale of edible misadventure.
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- Article Excerpt (Intro): Hidden within the fog-soaked halls of Castle Droughmoore, where enchanted portraits gossip and sentient food roams freely, one lonely baked potato just wants a hug. SadSpud—cape slightly too heroic, butter melting like a dramatic tear—sets off on a quest for affection. But in a castle full of unpredictable magical misfits, even a simple hug can turn into a full-blown culinary catastrophe. When SadSpud accidentally embraces the most intimidating vegetable in the Dusklands, chaos, seasoning, and unexpected diplomacy follow. A lighthearted gothic romp through the strange, edible world of Droughmoore.
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- Article Excerpt (Intro): When your startup is broke, your AI makes sad potatoes, your insurance company is called Creepy-Crust LLC, and your corporate furniture is held together by epoxy and regret… releasing ransomware starts looking like a business plan.
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- Article Excerpt (Intro): Mr. Fuzz adjusted his trench coat, whiskers twitching as he surveyed the chaotic underground spice market. Neon lights flickered over crates of chili powder, paprika, and rogue sauces. Sadbot hummed mournfully beside him, its sensors glowing faintly. On a pedestal, a dusty, glowing book beckoned: the legendary 1980s PITT BBQ recipe. Guarding it was none other than a judgmental pineapple, tiny sunglasses glinting ominously. Around them, gummy bears waved banners, sugar-free Haribos sulked, fish gravy bubbled in solidarity, and a steaming cup of coffee hissed angrily. Mr. Fuzz: “Justice… taste restored. We may have survived the Taste Test of Chaos, but culinary absurdity never sleeps.” With the recipe in paw and the pineapple blinking in cautious approval, Mr. Fuzz and Sadbot prepared for the next stage: bringing the lost flavor back into the world, one absurd bite at a time.
Read more: Fuzz & Sadbot: Fish Gravy Detective Agency – Case #2: BBQ Where Did You Go?
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- Article Excerpt (Intro): The golden bowl sat empty, a cruel reminder of culinary betrayal. Mr. Fuzz, humanoid black cat of everything, perched atop the velvet-trimmed desk, monocle glinting, tail flicking like a metronome of doom. “Sadbot,” he hissed, voice low and catastrophic, “the fish gravy is gone. Vanished. We must find it, no matter the suspects — rubber ducks, socks, or sentient appliances.”
Read more: Fuzz & Sadbot: Fish Gravy Detective Agency – Case #1