Finished Folds (1—20)
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2knew where they were, their eyes having rolled so far to the back of their heads at Juan's patronizing and condescending speech. My white butt was definitely in the puddle though,
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4The cat left a deliberately placed turd, like a war declaration from the dark side, in the middle of the left side of the bed. The next day, another on the right side of the bed.
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2is a feat indeed. Still, Still will not remain in my mind, for Death will knock, and I will hear Nothing, and fire and ice will collide to yield Ending. My Ending. My love.
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2had been browning in a metaphorical toaster-oven. It no longer carried any weight, as it seemed to be in a perpetual backswing. But with a rap, it would've stayed white as golf his
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3and grinned like a hyena. The waiter's knees gave out as he crumpled to the floor, a puddle of blood growing rapidly around him. "See! Butter!" Frank said. "Told you it was my knif
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4time, lest his reputation be blackened. This is, after all, a profession, and any less would send the wrong message about what he was about. He inflated the prosthetics, and pulled
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5The DEA was right on his tracks though; they knew that this fire was no accident caused by toxic baby feces. This had the drug cartel's prints all over it--always looking for a new
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5This was much to Dicky Noir's and the fat woman's mutual relief. And yet they felt an obligation to impress each other, Dicky exaggerating his size, and the fat woman hiding hers.
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5hold of the two roots of the world-tree, and showed the story of its branches above. And through it, the two universes became aware of one another, until they became one. The end.
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5to smoke in here, but she just stared at out the window, and then at the monitor, and then out the window. "Kids should smoke," she went on. "Then maybe we'd have less of them." I
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2rrying their dead. They will never be worthy of us, and we must always be unkind to them. Kindness is a disease that spreads, decimating all focus on what truly matters." His steel
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5"You'd like that wouldn't you!" I shouted. "I'll never talk to you." Pierre Peary bent to recoup the muddy helmet, now beyond pith, having sustained a hole the shape of my foot.
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4intact. Whit was the only thing left intact in King Noah, besides his ability to outrun the orderlies--even if they had been able to tackle him with the straightjackets still on.
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3culture wasn't. And by that definition, is how we know how to recognize culture. In other words, culture is no longer culture, but rather, manipulative subjugation. It's a trap.
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5for my mistake. But the melted, blackened "taffy," belied my error. The house was gone. Did any of it really matter anymore? I would have apologized in any other... but I didn't.
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4Literally, King Kong lived in the famous building--in secrecy so as to avoid the paparazzi that would surely ensue once he opened the door, revealing that Elvis lived there too.
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6dancing on the edge of his A Nuss, as most fake famous people tend to do. Bwoom, bwoom, bwoom, he felt the shifting inside, and then, Whoosh! It all fell through, fake famous peopl
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2taking a bite out of the ginger she was considering adding, then spat it out in disgust. "What WAS that?" "Ginger." "That was no ginger." "What would you know about ginger? "Ooh, I
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5his resourcefulness. "Fascinating," I mused, "the minds of humans pursuing death." But jumping would not have killed him. It wasn't going to kill me--I thought... I hoped. The gorg
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3he was safe to wander the streets once more. He needed a rest anyhow. He pressed the gas, and zoomed to the pub to find his uncle Lurch. Lose was not about to waste time right now.