Finished Folds (201—220)
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4Then he alternately stomped the accelerator and brake to progress an inch at a time, staring at me, giggling. I pulled the key from the ignition and swallowed it, then jumped out
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3and nothing's wrong. It's nothing, but it's always something. It's not what you think. What is it? It's complicated. It's about time, but what time is it? It doesn't make sense.
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5His cats held weird creatures out to the "cow" with their weird fingers. The "cow" backed away, knocking into Taylor as he plucked a 4rth son from the weird tree. Everyone was male
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4As I strut down the street someone shouted "Hey Disco Clown!" "I'm a woman's man: no time to talk!" I replied. When I got to the only disco left in town, it was engulfed in flames.
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13no no no no no" "Oh semolina semolina" "semolina pizza dough. Spin 'round the dough, make it into pizza pie for me, for me, for me" "So you think you can bake me and make me a pie?
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4But the room was a featureless sphere with no contents. He began to walk and the sphere rolled upon a flat external surface. He seemed to go nowhere within the sphere but it rolled
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3blasted, war torn copra plantation. After an hour the sound of the car hadn't come any closer. The interminable puttering, puttering was driving me batty. I grabbed my umbrella and
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7I Don't Know Dessert: 1 quart catsup, 1/2 cup vapor-rub, 1 lb bone meal, 1 lb pork fat. Whip catsup to form stiff peaks. Fold in other ingredients. Cook 3 hours until crusty. Serve
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5fit through. He wore puffy white 3 fingered gloves on the ends of his wings, even though he had no hands. It was stupid. He wasn't fooling anyone. Anyway, dapper Eric McDuck would
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3so we sat under a baobab tree waiting for the emperor to have a child. She chased off the roaming clowns, I provided her with services & we made a meager living selling betel nuts.
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4aps Dawn would give me a shampoo and trim with her pink fingers? Certainly. She swabbed the greasy floor with my head then hacked off fistfuls of my hair. She cast shadows with a
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3a miracle: my bald head covered in random gobs of glue with messy tufts of hair sticking out. "I love it!" I cried, tears flowing freely. Next Janie rubbed poison ivy on my face to
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13Mrs. Butterworth was displayed in a casket on a pedestal behind velvet rope. As people filed past they received a blast of compressed air aimed at their crotch, making them shriek.
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1and folded it up like a great big floppy pancake, then poured on maple syrup. "Simultaneity is relative to the observer's reference frame. Only your capitalist overlords care."
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1knew that somewhere there was a woman for me like a deep sea fish that I could latch onto like a parasite. She would slowly absorb me, leaving just my gonads to fertilize her eggs.
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5-hing of a deeply psychological nature began to torment him, inducing a psychosomatic rigor in his extremities. He would not move his lips when he spoke, and refused to speak of
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9So I told them saccharine tales of how they were seasoned & extruded into casings by a supreme sausage in the sky who loved them like children. They didn't believe me for a minute.
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4to launder a monkey before it spirals into a cesspool of filth & sub-optimum productivity. F. Dixon DVM [Dixon, F; et al. (2009) "A Novel Approach to Monkey Laundering"] recommends
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2On second thought, Tom had a gallon of buttermilk. Katie responded by ordering a shot of bleach, a shot of ammonia and a glass. They were overcome by the chloramine fumes and died.
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3He tied folly with a bow. He sandwiched rugged individualism with nihilism. He used onomatopoeia as a sausage casing for aphasia. Meanwhile the damned were feeling a little glum.