Finished Folds (121—128)
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3went her days. And her nights, as ever, lifted her out of depravity toward that pink ruffled world of six-year-old girls, where monsters are someone else.
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4All you jelly-filled pansies had better vote for me in the Favorite Has-been's category!" I looked at my dachshund, Daisy, who absentmindedly continued licking the purple
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3in common. Knoxville fumbled about for his syringe. Ballpoint, emasculation blade.... ah, there it was. Spotting his prey about to exit the
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2You awaken on the banks of a cactus-lined river of acid. You wonder aloud at the sexy tickle in your lower pendiculum. Safron (had you dreamed her?) had warned you sternly not to
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2yogurt of perspiration and panic. The sour salt of it always calmed her jack-hammer pulse. No wonder Simone, the garage enforcement matron, had recently forbidden
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5Mayor Gingivich's waiting room. I imagined his flabby face when, next morning, he would trip over the laminated barmaid in his usual stupor. He'd rack his brain, thinking that he
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3in my coat pocket. I couldn't resist the flamboyant little Topekan. So I grabbed him firmly by the lapel and reeled him into a sort of tango posture. He looked at me as if
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2of licorice. The treat had always stiffened his backbone. There was nothing else for it. Bourbon he had. But for licorice, a trip to Olive Street to visit