Finished Folds (261—280)
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4-line snapped and a thirty-foot long post torpedoed nonstop into the screen door and then vaulted undamagingly away. The latched latch bent slightly but held the door safely shut.
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2his teetotalling ass into a seething drunk Siamese cat reduced to being spanked by Green Party liberals. Suffice it to say, the electioneering ended; the sexual favors didn’t.
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4“The real danger is that society has become so dumb, that people in charge don’t know what they are doing, and brainless people are getting pushed into positions of leadership.”
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2Still, they persistently fornicated and multiplied—not just a little—but constantly until they became a nuisance. Pesticides had been banned; without a remedy, the Fleas ruled.
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4off Dracula down at the Cotton Club. Sofia got to hang out with The Rain People over at the Gardens of Stone where she drank an Apocalypse Now and danced the Rumble Fish with Jack.
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3Queen (God Save Her). Yes, Lord SM, frustrated by its knavish tricks, confounded by its politics, but on “It” all the Kingdom’s hopes were fixed, whispered, “God save the Queen!”
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4weeping man in the green-streaked suit, “Oh, please don’t tell me more than a thousand pounds!” The man glared at fashion designer Flippotino, and cried, “Fool, this suit is white
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2livers, hearts, and kidneys, too. In the Tofuman Cookbook, I organize meal plans for vegan zombies. Breakfast brains made from pickled-beets-stuffed cauliflower. Lunch lungs made
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2the event would be forgotten fast, like a mass shooting, mainly a school mass shooting. Anyway, nobody gives a shite about Shirley/Shawn Temple; the real culprit is Mickey Rooney.
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1crushed his advances by offering him my body if he could accomplish one easy task: Leap from my 45th floor apartment balcony. Thinking with his other brain, he leapt to his death.
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10The woman sporting a grey parka, the hood pulled snugly over her head, exposing only a pair of shades, walked into the bank, lingered and loitered long enough to make other bankers
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2Jane catches the sad look between the eyes. She falls over the suitcase, breaks her neck. Bobby jumps off the bridge, breaks his neck. A dog urinates on the suitcase. It’s snowing.
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9midnight mass with Ma and Aunt Gertrude, listening to them fart and giggle—a result of eating too many roasted chestnuts and drinking too much eggnog. Death by Christmas cheer.
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5of Dawson’s Creek. Innovative Kama sutra. Katie Holmes’ pubic flash of usefulness, pounding her femininity from side-to-side, spitting sparks of freedom on his emaciating manhood.
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9drinking a latte and breastfeeding a baby. I strolled over and said s/he looked great. S/he knew me as an ex-lover; then s/he explained how s/he by mistake impregnated him/herself.
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5Thomas Jefferson Elementary School. “Eugene,” I demanded, “Are you the one who put the frog down my panties in 1st grade?” Eugene, not rejoiced by his rebirth, twisted in pain.
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3Ambling into the hotel room, Sally flung her clothes on the floor. She strode into the bathroom naked, flipped on the light switch, and shrieked. A maid rested in a pool of blood.
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7vintage records?” Lacking empathy, Ms. Pence disclosed that she had seized his treasured, 78 rpm, shellac records, molded them into salad plates, and sold them for a buck a piece.
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4An answer came fast: a phantom loomed over me, and, in a wink, I was out cold. When I awoke, the suitcase lay open and empty in front of me, and I was naked…and still handcuffed.
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4but Maggie rammed the dark purple Air Freshener tree, with the Mega-dank locker-room stank, to the upper reaches of Phil’s sinuses; barking like a mad dog she howled, “Breathe deep