4 Folds
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Lake Inferior is infamous for being nearly 90% sulfur and Ernest Hemingway parts - literally parts of Hemingway were floating in the lake. They were full of protein - if you could -
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he watched Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Were-Rabbit and suffered a relapse so powerful that it pushed him off of carrots and right into a crippling Eukodol addiction. He needed
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repulsive and you need to be more socially active," the woman who'd never had a consistent friend in her life would chide. What did she know about being "socially active," the
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Suddenly Bieber split open and revealed his true form - that of a GIANT SLOR. Many Shubs and Zulls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of a Slor that day. But not me. Not
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wanted to go home, but the Annexia police had been cracking down on educators and it wasn't safe on the streets during the day. Getting caught meant a meeting with Dr. Benway and
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and sending ripples through the void. "You...aren't leaving, are you Ziggy?" a kid in a denim jacket asked, looking up at me with wide, dark eyes. I nodded sadly - my astral home
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chance of getting to talk to her. She seemed like she was in a hurry - but I was frozen. I could barely speak, let alone put one foot in front of the other. I had to act, though
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but we wrecked our automobile around Rhode Island and had to stop at the Beans Inn. It was run by a man named Beans and that was also what the motel was made out of. I thought it
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feed mah fuggin' kids on this workin' man's salary?" But what he didn't know was that his kids were already dead. In fact, they had never been born. Never existed at all. He had
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. I pondered how they could've found the time to type that out while they were OBVIOUSLY bein' murdered. I decided to cease my investigation and go home to eat some warm spaghetti.
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, I realized that parrots aren't intelligent animals - how could they know my name? I grabbed a nearby parrot and bit its head off, Ozzy-style. Rocky road, man. I needed to
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the greasepaint-wearing intruders and had set buckets of Chuckle Acid™ (the only thing that can completely dissolve a clown - thus destroying its soul) atop all the doors. I then
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you hawk is. The unwashed masses shall hear about this." The Babybel Cow screeched in tongues known neither to man nor ape and lunged, its digitally-rendered jaws gnashing and
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The Mayor laughed, slapping his top scientist, Dr. Bill Schwartz, on the back. "How much torque does it take to rip a pregnant college girl's nipples off? That's what we're here to
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that one summer that had been immortalized in a song by Bryan Adams. Grandpa reflected on the state of his aging, destroyed testicles. Years of injecting marijuanas into his penis
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We arrived about noon. The whole place smelled like pussy that had been left in the sun to rot. I armed my T-shirt cannon and combed my fucking awesome '80s rock star hair, waiting
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clown-killers. Professionals. The Grove Street Families had been nothing more than a Los Santos street gang before the Clownpocalypse - but now we stood for something a little more
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tor from another place. "Gordon Freeman - in the flesh. Or rather, in the hazard suit. Mr. Freeman...tell me, are you a fan of...Jägermeister?" I needed a drink after all the shit
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in a stern tone, "Mr. Dufresne? Are you maaaaaaaasturbating in here?" Andy had no choice but to lie and say, "No. I'm shagging your wife, Warden Norton!" Andy got to walk the very
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my bad-touch uncle, Unkle Eduardo, climbing over the fence. "Eduardo," my mother shouted. "You aren't welcome here! Leave before we call the police!" But Eduardo was already dead.