fsdfdzghghfbg mjj,k

fsdfdzghghfbg mjj,k
Would the spasms ever subside? asd.kjbfa rjbf There it goes again, in uncontsdlkjrolled bursts. I should have my mind examined before asldkflqjr fkqljh.dfs.
I grabbed my car keys and MacBook (so I could continue the fold) and sped to the dgbfxdfv hospital. The spasms dggfvuikki picked up frequency. I had one hand on the steering wheel
and another was folding on the MacBook. The third hand was throwing a peace sign at a thankful India. By the time I got to the dfxdfv the dggfvuikki spasms were constant & I was fl
-ung about like poo from a monkey's cage as my dggfvuikki-induced fit reached a crescendo. Unspeakable words were pouring from my keyboard into the fifth fold, making the story
skid to a halt and it became the only unfolded fold on the site.10 years later a new folder, misinterpreting the 5th fold, got the story going again. But the 6th fold had a problem
. "Don't fink and drold," the 7th folder slurred. "Tha's wut I alway shay..." The 8th folder stared at the mess for three minutes and thirty seconds. If only number nine were here.
We only got Three Quarters of an omelette. So I asked Three Quarters of an omelette what it thought of it's/her/his chances in the race to the 10th. "I just wish I had been #9."
John Lennon was #9 and was having a number 9 dream when Three Quarters appeared wearing a cat mask. The omelette was eaten alive by unsuspecting Lollapalooza concert goers. When a
crazed Yoko Ono walked onstage looking for John (whom she’d forgotten had died years ago), the stage manager opened the trapdoor under her feet. He’d had it installed just for her.

Started: 2017-07-22 08:34:41
Finished: 2018-04-08 12:23:02

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