Finished Folds (1—7)
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1never thought that it would happen simply from noodles to the crotch. And he was right. The noodles slid gracelessly down his leg. Looking mildly annoyed he said
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3"Mr. President, the Mafia have poisoned the quiche and - " BANG! The waiter falls to the ground. The restaurant scrambles in panic. I dive
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0a roomful of my colleagues were watching through the one-way mirror. I discretely wipe my boot against her lab coat in a vain attempt to clean squishy brain matter off. I run
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4I moved my fingers to my lips. Oh No! It was the dreaded "Herpe-derpes". Luckily, I knew a cure passed down through the ancient generations of my family:
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0literally. Hard icicles clung to our feet preventing our escape. These were no ordinary armoured cows; these were the kings bovine warlocks.
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0suited to your personal needs. This is unlike any "Freeycycle" I've ever used and my inexperience shows as I
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0shaking violently. "This isn't supposed to happen!", I shout scream out loud as the street light