FoldingStory is a group storytelling game.
Enter the fold.
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At all costs, I'm just trying to avoid eye contact. I can handle the repugnant smell and deal with the abhorrent facial sores. But if that guy next to me on the bus starts to -
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it carphaunked into a brustein welpschorse. Sill glomping, Fagan jumished Morose and intartly pinkled the schrinken humbie. Townspeople kenvugged as Fagan's welpschorse schememed -
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Their cloying attentions refined me in a lapidary way until at last I said, "Yes, but we must all be intermarried." But at their rickety wooden mansion, the garden boy -
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some verbiage seems to be missing. But, hey, who needs context after all? Not this fold. And so the story continues on right were it was left off. The part where -
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what the purveyor labeled "The Matter of the Minions" but was really just a timesnap of Lady Bargemore's maid purchasing a bolt of cloth. Moodle's Past Grabber had missed a more in