Finished Folds (321—340)
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6Of Estolithuania; denoting that whenever war starts, it’s best to use a little musical foreplay to move your foe into a “make love, not war!” ambiance. Either way, you’re screwed.
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3batteries, a six-pack of beer, a 5-ounce tube of personal lubricant, and a terry-lined shower cap. “Did you find everything you were looking for?” the freckle-faced man asked me.
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7Splooge out of you…you hear me?!” But Tigger pretended he didn’t hear because he didn’t reply. He noiselessly turned off the phone, and thought, WTF is Ted’s Dad talking about?
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4But I decided to ignore his advice. WTF did I have to lose? My philosophy hadn’t changed in 40 years…face your fears, head on…look your adversary straight in the eye…and grin.
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6The entire event became one colossal ruse, an organized hit-job, a hoax, perpetrated by someone who stole my winning lottery ticket, murdered their kids, and then just…vanished.
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4Are you going to the Writer’s Block Party? Take the Pineapple Express north & exit at Indica Ave. Walk two blocks east to Sativa Street; then go south until you see the Purple Haze
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6were funk trunk hooks. I have no idea what that means, but I like the way it sounds…so, it continues. Now, back to being more than a student of history, composition, and geography
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3the black sheets, black pillowcases, black comforter, black walls, black carpets, and his pair of black long johns with the escape hatch in the crotch. Detectives with ultraviolet
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3flown the coop (or so we assumed), but aunt Flo had become part of the bear’s feast, the side dish, the side of slaw, the pickle, the bag of chips, the complement to the BBQ.
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3had changed, he had dipped his wick into the bourgeoisie, planted his seed inside Destiny.com, and for a moment, the oppressed stood above the oppressor, and the future looked good
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10and by chance slammed my chin down until it lodged at the base of the chilly, foul-smelling porcelain urinal. I lost the Platinum Paperclip of Good Fortune, and my boss had to pee.
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4was a front for all my underworld activities: drugs, guns, booze, sex slaves, you name ii, and none of it exists if not for the penny loafer. Penny loafers are my life and passion
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4observed them hop upon the peace train, riding the tails of the moon’s shadow, and as I stood there smiling, I could Teaser singing, “Longer boats are coming to wn us. Hold on to
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2his palms, and repulsively smears the greenish-yellow mucus down some random woman’s long elegant red hair, being sure to spread whatever was left of the snot on her right asscheek
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5body, with an unconvincing east Indian accent, would NOT know the names of the Five Mantras—a Philadelphia Doo Wop group from the late Fifties—but the giant voice went silent.
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3behind the counter...unfortunately, the guy behind the counter had no say in the distribution of cheese (extra or otherwise) and took a beating for the team. He should have asked
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2vying for their place in Valhalla, willing to gouge your heart out for a spot near Trump. How abhorrent would they be, how low would they crouch to assure their adversary’s claim
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4means that I will never get your regal panties off,” He sulked. “My Dear Fellow,” She started. “I don’t wear panties, but if I did, you’d need more than opium to get them off."
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5face of the next pretty boy named Adonis who comes walking up to me drooling, and bulging out of his shorts like the side of a dented vegetable can. "Hey, Venus. How is Aphrodite?"
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3Yeah...God and Bobby WERE tight...but that's all in the past. It seems that Bobby's dinner rolls & cake were making God fat--and there's nothing worse than a bloated & angry God.