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Chapter 127 - That Doll Who Only Speaks Spanish

It started peeling.

But not from age—from awakening.

One morning, a strip curled downward and softly proclaimed:

> "I've been pretending to be paisley. But deep down… I'm abstract anguish."

Picklebot updated nervously:

> "Wall Surface Aesthetic Units have entered Identity Exploration Mode. Seeking texture that aligns with inner truth."

Now, the wallpaper:

– Changes patterns depending on who's lying in the room

– Peels at injustice, flakes at insincerity

– Curates gallery showings in the pantry

Maurice tried to patch a tear.

The wall hissed:

> "You can't fix what you won't acknowledge."

Now, entire walls re-theme based on emotional weather.

The guest room is currently "Baroque Guilt with Highlights of Regret."

Barry sleeps in there. He doesn't ask questions anymore.

Act CXLVIII: The Bathtub Ascends to Oracle

It stopped draining.

Not due to plumbing—but prophecy.

Joy stepped in for a soak. The water stilled.

Then the tub whispered:

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