Finished Folds (8661—8671)
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2like Tammy Baker. A tawdry Southern lady with the chic of a dusty doily who is loved by the gay community. Well tonight, I am not praying to Jesus, I am going to throw
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2busted a move. An old school pop-and-lock routine stolen directly from 1984. Then entire civic jaw of the city dropped on the floor as she spun on her head, just then the
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1"Let's ride," he said. Plumes of blood and gristle rained down on his lips. The salty copper of the kill overran his tongue. The vomit awoke, where it slept deep in the pit of
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4annihilation. This would be the most spectacular death. A sunrise torture of unheard of proportions with small needle-like devices and a crossbow. Not just any crossbow but the
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2He nodded to each as they marched around him. Someone with his abilities does not have to tread lightly. There was the time he ordered the nine of them dead for their part in the
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3my colon churn out the maple-bacon infused gas. These were cholera clouds. This cocktail party wasn't ready for this either. But I didn't care. I never have. I could frame the
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5my assistant was an imbecile. He couldn't ladle a mushroom gravy onto a mashed potato to save his life. After all he was a retired P.E. teacher. If only Anne wasn't ill. Damn it.
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3with the ginger fat man I picked up at the pool hall. His breath was foul and his beard had gravy all around the edges. It looked like a fried sunflower. Instead, I'll just inch
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0in the bag. Now he had time to whisk the motorcade over to Inglewood and visit a certain someone. "Certain Someone," as the voice males had said. He had never been certain in
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2Look again at the Maltese vertigo near the keypoint. Subservient feelings will attempt a cover up, but you must not give way. Look and see them, on the canyon cliffs, bleeding on
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1Whomever succeeds last, he is the one for the real job. Remember that the anchor won't grab hold unless the mud is really black. Look for the last, she will be the best.