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By Michael Slezak
Updated June 15, 2005 at 11:49 PM EDT
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I’m a little worried about my friend Felicity. We lost touch about three years ago, when she stopped sending me cassette tapes through the mail, but last I heard, she seemed on the brink of figuring out her art-school-or-pre-med dilemma. Now, all of a sudden, I find out she’s going to be some kind of secret agent. Sounds like a mission impossible to me! I mean, for starters, she’s a really bad liar (remember when she got busted copying that term paper?), and she always seemed better suited to working in a coffee shop and feeling angst-y than, say, hanging from ceiling cables and stealing top-secret files. Ah well, I guess it beats a life of cannibalism.

addCredit(“Felicity: John Seakwood”)

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