Finished Folds (461—480)
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0the potion. While they were a fearsome lot, they never could hold their chocolate. This might yet be an interesting evening. Further back in the room, there was the sound of
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1Gorbachev was drunker than usual. He staggered to his feet and raised his right fist, the one with the tumbler of vodka. "The dog! Who speaks for the dog?".
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3One of the really fancy ones. I could hear the people in line grumble as I laid out my order. Cup size, temperature, milk, flavor. Well, just deal with it. You'll have your turn.
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5in front of the camel. Just a swirl of dust and then nothing. No matter. It seemed that the camel knew the way. Handing the camel with the valet, he headed into the lobby.
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2She'd done the best she could. The 3rd grade was a bitch and she couldn't take it no more. Mama tried to teach her about medicines, but Daddy wouldn't hear of it.
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1A woman who sleeps til half past two then wakes up tired? Whaddaya do? With a woman who sleeps like
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1always liked flashing herself at the velvet rope. A quick snap at those tits and she was in. That was her sort of extravaganza, whatever the venue. She thought about the scene
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1a shopper at the dollar store. Some days, you bought a tub of pudding. But they don't make galoshes anymore, do they? Gladys steeled herself, as best she could, and headed for
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4that if there weren't a life after death he had really screwed the pooch. Of course, he wasn't dead yet. He felt he could still unfold.
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3popcorn obsession. Those Wilburton boys were fun, but the dangerous kind, and he didn't have the luck for that. His dog, on the other hand,
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6At first light, she saw the tracks in the snow. Stepping back from the window, she put her hand out and pointed. But he wasn't ready or able to
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3It was the day he found that you could sing the words to the Gilligan's Island theme to Stairway to Heaven that he changed. And not for the better.
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2opening behind the small wooden door. What he really needed was one of those flaming torches. The darkness was coming and the Reverend might not arrive in time to
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2tablets. Still untranslated, but we could feel their power. We drove across the sand so fast, almost flying. Yet the were still behind us. Our only hope
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4laughing now, and watching the Kill Bill marathon on TNT. You know it by heart and think of the violence as "art". Maybe at the commercial, you'll check to see if you're out of
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3the look of amusement on his face. He was getting away with it. The deal with the avocados had gone down, and he was going to skate. People began walking away. Still,
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3he tossed over his sunglasses. No one could ever know. No one should ever know. But he would have to live with it forever.
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3The Jackson Five. Is that right? What sort of day are you going to have when the first thing you hear is the Jackson Five. He kept driving because he knew
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3, an existential crisis in every bite. It's like masturbating with Anthony Bourdain. You can't know, but you do. And the food is
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5was missing those little white bits. Thank God for the mustard. The white bits. She had never told anyone the story of that machine.