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My name is LaFandaNiquanda, and this is my

  • My name is LaFandaNiquanda, and this is my story.

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  • I was born in a 1-room log cabin in Appalachia. When I was little, I dreamed of becoming an astrophysicist, but my MeeMaw told me "No, LaFanda! Yur gonna foller in my footsteps &

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  • bewitch bears!" I didn't want to do what MeeMaw did. I didn't want to use magic on bears. She named me LaFanda but I could do something else. I could design candy.

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  • It would be a bright yellow and give the mouth a real buzz. The chocolates would be skyrocketing in price. I would make millions in profits. My future looked bright, suddenly. The

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  • tenement funster that I used to be would never have imagined how bright my future was right now. Sure, back then I had a way with the girls on my block and, sure, I didn't know shi

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  • ngles from measles, but it was easier to get a medical license back then. Little did I know, that fake license was the passport to all of my dreams coming true. The first thing I

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  • did was open a practice. I treated patients for 6 months before one looked at my license. “I never saw a medical license filled out in crayon.” I knew this guy would be trouble, so

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  • I had him committed on my say-so as a psychiatrist (courtesy of the impressive diploma I pulled out of a crackerjack box). Since he had a meltdown whenever they gave him crayons,

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  • they gave him a job making candles. They would hand him crayons and a wick, and he would have a meltdown, and Bob's Yer Uncle, candles got made without wasting money on energy.

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  • But, alas, a traveling tailor had no need for candles. So, he traded his crayons and wicks for a sewing machine and a mannequin. Then he opened a haberdashery on Abby Road, London.

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2 Comments

  1. SlimWhitman Jun 01 2019 @ 06:58

    ... and the melted candleman rushes in from the pouring rain, very strange.

  2. LordVacuity Jun 02 2019 @ 00:06

    FoldingStory.com is in your blood, and you can't drink it. Stop pricking your finger.

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