Finished Folds (21—40)
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3bottom of the dell. The farmer will get back to you shortly." A flock of birds covered his image, leaving Wells to his message. He decided not to go. Future, 'twas a silly place.
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3made of living brain matter like most people's. A cool lime jelly substance, it provides my thoughts a more efficient, viscous channel to travel through. All geniuses have one.
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7whispered to me secrets of magical flight. "Just like the carpet!" They cried. "Jump! Do it!" I jumped overboard, expecting my pantaloons to puff out as a parachute and float me to
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4Laddie Boy spotted it first. "The sea be fizzin'!" He shouted in panic. I knew as I dipped my mug in what I would taste. As the cold ginger touched my lips I could only curse. Ale!
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3smack, flashed the hand a thumbs up, and disappeared into the heavens. That was great, thought the hand, but atheism is the best. Parking is free at their churches.
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3for a time; I was on time every time, fully fledged and pledged like a proud flag run up to celebrate the holidays. But then the down swing came, and there no depths to describe
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4A little old lady danced on a lonely street corner, chanting "Don't kill the man who paints your house. Don't kill the man who paints your house. Ai-di-di-die di-di-di-die."
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2figure out where to go from "..and then there were none...in my pants!" He had said all that could possibly be said. Some genius could never be touched by mere mortals.
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6It wouldn't have that same snap, and aesthetically speaking rich Corinthian leather had more panache. Plus, the donkey could eat it after which was the least it was owed, really.
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5pizza with a whitty "No, but you do. Haha!" before tearing a chunk off in his salivating mouth and masticating with gusto. Evil never tasted so good. Revenge best served: screaming
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3lies in mastering instruments no one else would care to. Like eating nacho cheese with duck pate - people assume you have good taste because you can afford to be eccentric about it
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3structure and support in a place I hadn't had either for a while. Bonus: it smelled like sweet and sour sauce and over-fried noodles, comforting both. I could take on anything now.
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3limbs smacked him in the face. He kindly ignored this faux pas and enumerated, "That bit of human kindness in your soul, keep it for you. No one else wants to see that shit."
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4When no one pointed out she was stating the obvious, therefore stating the obvious themselves, she knew she was well and truly alone. Except for the creepy voice in her pocket.
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3to eat kumquat again. Or go home, either, which was almost just as sad. Or live, really, which just might be worse. But what of the mysterious and convenient tattoos on her back?
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3Their name I often mangled into Dump Sack, anyway, and I was never a favored guest on the best of days. No, today I was determined set off on my own. It would be an adventure!
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3into temptation once more and pulled Purple Pill back off the shelf, shoving danger down the throats of all. Antoine probably laughed maniacally while doing it, the bastard. Skip
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8numerated Bothers would tip the candle over when The Kraken looked away, blaming it on terminally ill winds. He hated the flame so. And solace would never be his, for
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11would end up a social outcast, accused of breaking rules like a common rebel or at the very least looked down on as someone who couldn't handle their shit. Number! You undid me in
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3guacamole into their slobbery, bull-dog faces as they tried to seem cultured and accepting of foreign delicacies while under the watchful eye of the Non-Supreme Non-Overlord(TM).