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going to become my tomb, I just knew it. A tomb with plush office chairs, a laser board and a wet bar for celebrations, but a tomb all the same. I excused myself for the bathroom
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"Uh... green cupcakes on St. Patrick's Day?" offered Shortfellow, secreting a minute puddle of liquid fear in his plastic chair. "Wrong!" shouted Flopp, his amphibious face flushe
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the center kiosk of the Apple Store. The crowd had become angry and had all ready started the bonfire there made from discarded Android phones. The clerks crawled out the back door
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, therefore we request that all brainwashing candidates enjoy one of our complimentary egg salad sandwiches." Henry didn't like egg salad, but being eager to get his brain washed,
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do not - I REPEAT, DO NOT - in under any circumstances drink tea. Not only will you not be able to drink tea, but you'll destroy the Cryo-stasis fluid, rendering you lifeless. Also
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"They serve real humans at McDonalds?" Glork asked incredulously. "Yup. They taste great with ketchup too!" Blork added. The two aliens unanimously agreed to travel to the next McD
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an taco truck owner will help you decide if you can't." Saint Mtumbo added helpfully. Bill Gates smiled shyly and mumbled his thanks to Saint Mtumbo. The air crackled with tension.
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The extraordinary stink emanating from my head prompted world leaders to set up an international task force, designed to contain me securely. They called it the "SCP foundation" or
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Shortfellow leaned forward and examined the screen. "Where'd the narrative go? WHERE'D THE NARRATIVE GO!?" Calm down. I... or he... needs to come to my... or his... senses.
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the ability to turn invisible - but with a catch. It only works if no one's looking. Which is made worse by my glaringly green glow, so EVERYONE's looking at me recently.
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Soon enough, soon was a long lost memory and I had done something and waited for something to do. This proved the opposite of my assertion that "I couldn't wait", because I did.
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I, therefore the quarantine ends today. I've been I-ing since before this quarantine started. If this syllogism were true, the quarantine never should have started. Did I not I?
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sexual golf innuendo about having a threesome, washing balls, going to the hole, grabbing the wood by the shaft, putting from the rough, stroking it smooth, only to rim the hole.
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with a walter mitty like ratata tat tat like a sluice with a sticky spigot/ I"ve come lay it flayed where you can see I'm not some mater hater, just a master baiter. Caught you in
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swamp life. The swampfolk suddenly find themselves under attack. President Shrek said so. The was drastic hyperbole or demagoguery, most likely. Can't we go back to a golden time?
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The farmer stopped digging & looked at the man in the horseless carriage. He wiped his brow, brushed off his hat & walked over to the automobile. "You horn works, if'n you were won
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That screech, odd and singular though it was, could not dampen the distinctive sound of dropping a Lacan imaginary notion on the barrister's head. That sound was heavenly, and I
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will just have to do. Now, shall we proceed with the show?" Alton Brown nodded grimly, wanting desperately to be anywhere else at this moment. The Reynold's Wrap was starting to
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"Your tort Sir." He slammed it down on the next table. The empty one. "I ordered a tart and before you ask, not a sweetbread of any type. Have her bathed and bring her to me here."
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They envied me that, I suppose. It had its pleasures but the pains outweighed them by far. I was hardly in a better position than them. Yet, I wouldn't want to go back among them.