To pay off my gambling debt, I stole money

To pay off my gambling debt, I stole money from myself in fold #2. Yeah! now I can pay it off. I wonder where I got the money in the first place?

It wouldn't be cash from fold number 3. He'd been shafted by American big business, out to bleed the powerless proletariat dry. If they fear communism, why do they act so Marxist?

Besides, he thought, seasons don't fear the reaper. Nor do the sun the wind or the rain. Fold # 4 had run smack into a brick wall of nonsequiteritus. It was throbbing like a fiery

pair of Speedos on a sultry South Beach afternoon. Fold #5 hosed Fold #4 down, baptized him actually so that he was born again into a new story line. The reaper has no power here.

After that, Fold #5 just kinda sat around for a while, not really accomplishing much of anything. He was basically a waste of space. Dead air. Suddenly Fold #6

s?" asked Fold 7. Fold 8 & 9 ran outside to the hot tub and rolled naked in the snow. Fold 7 got distracted and forgot what

he wanted to write. He was more into watching than acting. After their tub frolick, Fold 8 regretted making sentences with Fold 9 without a spellchecker. Fold 9 missed her period

and bought an EPT. Fold 9 realized Fold 8 was just playing a game with her. She was such an idiot falling for his lines! With 4 sec. left til the EPT results and no character left,

she waited until the counter hit zero. She'd have the last laugh though: Turgid Stoat - not him - had always been her muse, and her prose was pregnant with stoatish possibility.