FoldingStory is a group storytelling game.
Enter the fold.
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13The shrincken humbie squalled and caterpunked festily. Fagan glomped inwardly & offed his festerbound handy. Thoroughly tanked, Morose teedled & blowdied Fagan's trestlt until
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11ketchup with our friend, Bob Evans, who (contrary to popular belief) did not live down on the farm. He lived with us in our Weinermobile. So Frank, Bob, & I drove off together,
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10But his false French accent could not hide the simple fact, that no matter how hard he scrubbed, no matter how feverishly he polished, it was still just a bumpy turd.
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10a monster turgid stoat that he laid on the table as payment. Nobody moved. Cruella was the first to recover. She said "Ol' Possum! Get that
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13speckled flycatcher I just saw whizzing by the plane?" I said to the navigator. He looked away and I clocked him atop his head with the fire extinguisher. No more weed for him.