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Worse yet, the Procrastinator put off re-registering his supervillain name, and his mantle was claimed up by someone with slightly more get-after-'em, which pissed him off more.
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is just such a bar where MMA-loving lawyers meet to drink and hold fight clubs like the spoiled impotent bourgeoisie they are. So I lurked in the men's room at the Mat, taking pics
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Reynard the fox, hero to the French people, jammed the Lindbergh baby into a waffle press while he inquired over the phone the costs of laxative-infused sardines. "Is that gross?"
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icated between the jaws of a giant toad, then burned with seething acids just to get out of having to fold laundry. I fucking hate folding laundry. I'd rather be folding stories.
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which Fred was doing while Reynard the fox, hero to the French people, had stuck Fred's infant son in a sack of doorknobs and mousetraps and was shaking it vigorously. Snap, clonk!
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he could be, and left the caps off all the toothpaste in the neighborhood. But Kevin Blake had peaked. He couldn't think of a single nefarious thing to do to top himself.
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was in very poor taste, his chest hair, but the lice defended it to the last, even as some people ripped it out at the root and others threw more lice into it. He wanted to die.
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It was her way of blaming others for her own autonomous criminal actions. But baby-eating was a serious crime; she hadn't reckoned with Lt. Agumon Friday of the Food Police.
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whatever reason people "swiped yes", she became disheartened that nobody was willing to dip their stick in crazy. Then she saw a pic of Nyarlathotep of the Thousand Screaming Maws.
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guy, Cthulhu, rose from the sea and glowered down at me. "Feel the death of the mind," he said. "No thanks," I replied. "I've seen enough Japanimation to know where this is going."
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kept returning red squigglies under the word "womyn". I don't get why human and woman get special syllables, but man is just plain, unremarkable, unannointed "man".
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ench. Reynard the fox, hero to the French people, was busy poisoning some school children while wearing the pelt of Wolf, whose wife he had just rogered in the back of the veranda.
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Toast sounded about good right then, and I was pretty sure the words "Hooters", "Purple Nurples", and "Flops" were responsible for why I could suddenly smell burnt toast. Edging up
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milling about in the muck, or mucking about the mill, protesting the lack of American outsourcing to foreign nations. "How dare the liberals make us commit crimes!" said Dean Cain.
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blasted the blasted heath until my blaster's batteries were out of blasting juice. So I squeezed some caterpillars out into its blast chamber to refuel my blaster and I was good to
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no addiction to heroin laced with crack and a THC chaser. But who had time for that in this crazy fad-a-day world? People slaved away to make videos of playing mobile games. What
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out a selection of erotic crullers to enjoy by herself. As she walked down the London street in London, a street in London, she checked her watch, noting Big Ben was a minute slow.
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demonstrated the route Sir English Mustacheface had taken along the veranda through the conservatarium and out via the solarineum. He'd eaten all the sidewalk chalk--the big kind.
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delivery immediately and take my leave." Oka was thrilled at the prospect of exiting the building. And not only that, he was already employed somewhere new, Avlin Logistics.
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to sleep by the inane story, all in the room were soon dreaming. All but one. The who wasn't known, but someone was still there awake. Somehow captivated by such a boring book.