Finished Folds (361—380)
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3were either a firm fist and forearm away from commitment or a dangling, flaccid foreskin away from running off with her best friend. She opted for self-love and freedom.
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3...liberty for one person, could be a jail sentence for another. That's why those far-right kooks won't give up their guns..you gotta pry it from their cold, dead hands, and that
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2passing gas between the pass-through and the back dock. The stench was overwhelming. Raw pork and navy beans. The natives banged their knives and forks, sounded like death.
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3She contorted her entire body from a pretzel to a pretzel stick. Then she unzipped the sleeping bag and poked her head out. The stiff, salty breeze slapped Mrs. Erickson in the
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1casually, yet nonchalantly, I unzipped my pink pants and unleashed my orange, mushroom-headed member, and, on cue, every women within fifty feet of me started to vomit.
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5I paced, anxiously, unconstrued in my attempt to seduce my landlady--seventeen years my senior. The large Hawaiian pizza wilted atop my microwave, dripping pineapple juice upon
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4The dawn was a splatter of black, grey, blue, red, and orange...but it only stayed that way for about five minutes, when the palette of color suddenly turned bright yellow.
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7Yes, some of you think Tim is a human. Now why on Earth would humans want to eat other humans...unless they are Pygmy Cannibals. Tim was an old mule who lived with two old maids.
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6Can't get back in! Can't get back in! Why is mission control repeating itself? Da Da deet deet dumm dumm . I can't get that image out of my head...like real perfection. Out of mind
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3know I had twirled dizzily around...uncontrollably...and fallen down an elevator shaft from 40 floors up. The pain did not subside, no matter how many Opioids the doctor pumped me
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8And change their minds they did! Oh, sure, from one extreme to another...but, hey...He did dabble in Cuckolding and Necrophilia, but she remained a Nun, locked up in her chastity
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6Ordinarily, I would eat my meat before eating my pudding, but on this one particular day, when Vanilla Crème was the pudding flavor, I acted extraordinarily and ate my pudding 1st.
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3a humongous beer and cabbage fart; that should level the playing field. Alas, the game was no longer a game: it was a chore--a pain-in-the-ass. The whole damn World was a mess.
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3Then, I bathed in a tub of bleach, lye, and alcohol...for days...until I had washed away all of my sins against humanity. I was no longer a killer...I was ready to be normal again
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3Being grounded was a fate worst than death...he needed to fly...to SOAR and SEED...his species depended on him. So...he hired a cat to scare off all the males and then went to work
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4Well...not really...Marge was there, hidden behind Mr. Invisible Hand. One of Milhouse Van Houten's prized moose heads--the one he stole from the Nixon Museum--was missing.
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6was a bit unusual...even for his own eccentric tastes in Targerian women. Ma'nu'lu, naked, looked a lot more like a Ziptallian woman--8 breasts, instead of 7, 4 butt cheeks instea
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5turned out to be a real horrorshow. If not for downing my fifth Moloko plus, I might have been a bit too faggy to do the old in-out in-out with a nagoy baboochka or even a sladky
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4"My God, Man," I shouted, while searching around for a glass of cold water, "who did this to you?" He was unable to speak; his entire body looked like a campfire had been put out
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2nant revelation. After all, I was born human--I loved, laughed, and cried as a human. . .but my will to survive was far too strong. I wanted to live. . .free. . .without bounds.