Finished Folds (1—13)
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3mistreated my brain’s neurons and protons beyond any instant repair, I discovered a cool spot beneath a poison oak bush, and there I lay me down to rest upon a mound of fire ants.
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3, twenty-seven shots later, outside of Ms. Kravitz’s gardenia garden, we buried a red, hairy slice of Swiss cheese, what we believed to be Fogley’s remains. The carnage was like
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2You’re over the limit and set off alarms. Wait a minute, those are natural charms! You keep no brain yet boast alleged wit. The masses buy your refrain and believe your bullshit
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4I could’ve sworn I saw the whole thing with my own eyes, or I saw it on the 11 o’clock news, last night. I’m not sure. When I woke up this morning, I was wet and covered in soot.
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1Peace, Quiet, & Normality. I live & breathe the ideals of Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk, so don’t invade my space with your bullshit. I just wanna sip some brandy & have a normal conversation.
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5I…um…wow…I lost my train of thought, there. Anyway. So, this skeleton goes into a bar and orders a beer and a mop. I’m sorry. I spaced out. Where was I? Anybody. Somebody. Help!
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3floated from the 12th to the 10th floor; then swiftly fell to the 9, 6, 4…1st floor in a blink of an eye, which he opened in time to see a fiery chargrill pit he was about to hit.
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4After that, everything is a blur. I'm not sure how, but the custodian introduced me to a scientist named Bong. I was reluctant to give the solution to just anyone, but Dr. Bong was
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5With the hangover ended; after examining dirty holes they climbed in and out of; after being explaining why they started drinking in the first place, they left Ohio and returned
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3“Oh, sure, Cole, you go ahead and make fun of ole Hazel, but nobody can take away my Emmy and my Tony and my Oscar. Not you or Mr. B. Not Mrs. B; not even little Sport. None-ya!”
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4Instantly, a bolt of lightning surged from cloud nine and walloped the dissenter, turning him into a Trump Zombie, smoke pouring out of his wherever. “Fake News, Fake Science!!!”
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2was the last straw, Paul. I’m done.” Paul didn’t move. “She thought they were Altoids. Shoved a fistful in her mouth. I only had the studio till midnight.” Art staggered away.
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2Herald Square, o'er the Macy’s roof, where Santa Claus was getting playful with one of the Rockettes (or so she alleged), and, upon seeing the hovering bystanders, he died smiling.