I would like, if I may, to take you on strange and fantastic journey…
Twas a Wednesday morning like any other. The sun did rise, the neighbor parrot did squawk, and I awoke contemplating throttling said parrot. Alas. as every Wednesday before it, I did not. Instead, I readied myself for another unremarkable day of Wednes.
While toiling at the place of my daily labor, my inbox did buzz with the magical number of one unread email. What ho? What be this? Opening this electronic mail, I noted with joy the information carried within. Twas a tracking number. But from whom, you ask? From the hardware gods themselves! This tracking number of mystery lead me to an oft visited page on this web of world wideness. The hardware gods did deem this very day to make haste with my GTX 1080 Ti Founders Edition. For you see, dear reader, it was making its way swiftly into my well sized and masculine hands. With great abandonment, I leaped into my seat to wait with nervous delight.
In due time, the daily toils distracted me from my silent excitement, when yet another buzz made its way into my day. A different buzz. This be the call of Messages of Instant! What, what, old chap! This was nay but a fellow laborer, not unlike myself, but the news he did carry fanned even more excitement into my now quivering heart. Even though this be a man of much hair of face, I was almost smitten, such was the news he bore!
The hardware gods, in their infinite wisdom and often, badly timed gifts, did descend upon my place of employment and did leave behind a package bearing my name. But this package was special, for in it was a freshly forged XPS 15 top of lap!
“Two gifts in one day”, I exclaimed! “What sacrifice do you demand, oh noble hardware gods?”
“We only demand the sweat from your brow, strained through the scrolls of recorded hours, and distilled into gold. This is the sacrifice we demand for the 1080 Ti.”
“Oh gracious hardware gods, my hands are full! Please, take from me this currency of coin!” And they did.
“When shall you return?”
“We have much to do, mortal. Should you wish to see us again, you must offer up a sale. Not just any sale, for we are not made from currency as you seem to be, but a sale that shall be spoken of for at least four score passes of the moon.”
And with that, they were gone, with but a whisper of “at least 15% off….”
The hardware gods be still mysterious in their giving, and their return. They speak of a sale, a mighty sale which shall hasten their return. When be this mythological sale of the ages? I know not. The whispers on the wind say the end of week days brings the sale, but I have not seen such in many moons, at least 6. Lo, now I sit. Hand full of currency and pantaloons with smoldering pockets, waiting for their return. I have by my side a new top of lap and card of graphics in which to pass the days with. So feel not for my plight, for the prophets of the hardware gods must bare this… wait.
Behold, dear reader, the sun does set on this the eve of the end of weeks days, and yet, no whispers of this sale… And so, I sit.

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