Finished Folds (181—200)
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3dreamscape on a whim. It was so dreamy. Dream a little dream of me blared from the dreambox. Yet, the weight of the consumer price index on my mind choked me back to reality.
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3would have stayed discreet, if he hadn’t turned off the lights; if she didn’t see him in the moonlight, moseying toward her in the G-string she bought him for his last birthday.
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3Junior hit him so hard with a ruthenium mallet that brain matter sprayed all over Sal’s Armani suit. “Look out, Idiot!” Sal hollered. Junior smiled, “Hey, Sal, who’s this Ruth?”
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4When he awoke, it was dark. From the lump on his head, and coconut in his lap, his loss of time was made clear, but which way and where to go. He looked around without direction.
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3he pictured the act. To be, alone, but with lots of time, Juan, to meet another; or not to be, just dead in Jessie’s arms. Have you even kissed Jessie? Have you even seen her naked
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3the nude, her lumpy butt sloshing about like a pan of unset lemon Jell-O with bananas. BAM! Stunned, the woman turned to see the bird on its back, dead from self-inflicted gunshot.
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3to kidnap her. “What about a Magical Mystery Tour?” invited Paul. “She could be the Walrus,” exclaimed John. “Don’t be silly,” added George, “She’ll be Ringo’s Aunt.” And she was.
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2rush fan than a dope. Yeah, I’ve dreamt about waxing down my board and my cootchie, catching a big wave, about holding up a trophy without some black bush pushing out of my crotch.
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3his prison cell, he wrote the first-person 90,000-page almanac, Harvey, and Me. Each page unwrapping the evolving bond between a 6-foot-4-inch white rabbit and the former Senator.
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2“Listen, if anything happens to me, Trog will kill everyone,” said Rennie. “You’ll have to stop him. Repeat after me: Trog, Rennie barada nikto.” I was paralyzed with fear. “Say it
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4That’s to say, I stripped. Put the funeral suit back in the cedar chest with the mothballs. Hid the charnel smell with Old Spice. It made the widow’s chest swell with anticipation.
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3The sunlight erupted through the urine-stained white sheets that Tobin hung as drapes to keep the bedroom dark. Now, in daylight, Marnie noticed Tobin with a fake arrow thru his
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3piss on Agent Orange’s tomb. Every man, woman, and child will drop shorts, shank it out or squat, rattle every stinky drop of urine onto the sacred ground of the scum of the Earth.
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3The French Fry cook, Tyrone, yanked the pick comb out of his Shag-Fro and placed it near the Emperor SBF IV’s throat. “We ain’t got time to wait for you to finish your Happy Meal,”
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3And then, magically, she appeared at his door selling nontoxic paints, and edible underwear. Sparks flew as he slammed the aluminum door into her grill. He invited her in and she
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3The tall man in the white suit rolled up the straitjacket & tucked it under his arm; he opened the ambulance door and stepped aside. The man in the black boots dropped the suitcase
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5Beyond that was nothing, blackness; no-one truly knew what lie beyond the Myropian border because those who traveled there never returned. Still, Princess Linda asked me to go and
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3fun songs? Songs filled with bathroom humor, promiscuous teenagers, and racial slurs?” The orchestra quickly went flat, like a tire blowout on the highway, and the audience moaned.
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7, oozing feverish pigeon shit upon everything in their orbit (and orbit my Living Barbie they did), until I did the only humane thing possible: I bit my zombie teeth into her bacon
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4It was a Bloodbath of humor. Robin Williams returned from the dead, Possessed, and headlined the Edge of Sanity tour. Even George Carlin performed the skit Six Feet Under is funny.