15 hours since a new line had been folded

15 hours since a new line had been folded on his stories; 8 hours since a new comment; 1 hour since a new 'like'. His skin crawled with anticipation. A twitch had developed that

was just below his left eye. He sat very still, focusing on denying the impulse to smooth away the spasmodic contraction... anything to distract from the fact that no new folds

meant that he could really focus on what he truly loved. Writing comments under the folds.

His day was made when he heard the telltale 'ding!' from thr email. Someone had responded to his Folding Story comment! He was recognized! Finally, his life had purpose! He sold

ered an led array to a radioshack motherboard & sewed it to his leather jacket. It projected activity of his foldingstory account. He hit the bars hoping to contact fellow folders

but they were chupacabras of the dream. Mandibles of the manifold, fine walnut cabinets with blatant yet surreptitious effects. Torm

Sawryer searched through the cabinets, finding the Fibula of Caligula. His pal, Hunck Finnn, connected it to the knee bone and thigh bone in his knapsack. The Cryptid Crypt smelled

the Elixir of Life. That and a stash of Fruit Rollups, three bottle caps from Mr. Pibb bottles and a spare fuse or two in case the headlights on the horse went out again. Wait,

the horse doesn't take kindly to loud noises! Going on strike, the pony fled, leaving our wagon to careen down the highway and crash right into a bridge abutment. Traction.