Finished Folds (1—20)
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3about galactic justice.” “Because,” he intoned in his best baritone befitting a Jedi Knight, “I said so.” He went for his lightsaber clumsily knocking it to the ground.
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0I wondered alous why anyone else should have these beautiful eggs. Surely, they wouldn’t treat them as well as I would. I began to hatch a plan to hoard the eggs all for myself.
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0joke about the justice system, tie the courtroom in a bow, and head home to watch “Night Court.”
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0recited the ancient verses of the magi, his mellifluous baritone reverberating through the temple. The Rock began to levitate above the altar, the velvet sheet slipping off his
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3The same way you solve a problem like Maria! Send it to the Alps to nanny for the precocious children of an ill-tempered naval captain and you’ll be talking to it in no time.
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2Or Suzanne Pleshette. Was there ever a Steve Pleshe? Is a Corvette a female car? Are all cars female? Are all females Suzanne Pleshette?! IS SUZANNE PLESHETTE STILL ALIVE?!?!
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1custard. Of course, I don’t have taste buds and my mouth is full of sand, so what would I know. But enough of this food talk. I know why you’ve come here, and furthermore, I know
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2my basked of used “The Wedding Planner” laser discs. The cases scattered and burst open causing discs to speed through the air slicing the arms of my
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2Miss Piggy was quick to rage. This flaccid excuse for a lover and dreamer was about to croak—not by the blade of his own knife, but instead, by the ham-fisted karate chop of
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4by something else, something… sinister? The only way to find out was to go deeper into the hallucinations, to befriend them, to earn their trust, to become like them. I focused my
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2store for tea and crumpets. The seating was divine and the people watching truly engrossing. There were certainly perks to living underneath a bed store, Mother Hubbard thought.
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2rolled across the land. The next day came—quickly and without mercy. Hampster Herod crawled over to his water bottle and licked sporadically. The time had come: Hampster Jesus must
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3all the coin on eyeliner and feather conditioner. When the harpy returned empty winged, I knew we were doomed. My despair, however, was premature. When all seemed lost, the harpy
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1create the next great American novel. I sat down next to the helicopter and pulled out a rough piece of paper out of my satchel with a flourish. I pulled the cap off my favorite
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2basket of lies. Because that pompous buffoon with his bodacious pompadour had gone too far. Because I was raised to right the wrongs of others. He. Had. To. Pay.
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4and rice (cilantro lime, if you were wondering) until we arrived at a laboratory. A slat in the door creaked open and a trio of eyes materialized within the darkness, peering
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3but properly put the frozen items together in one bag and the refrigerated items in another. He paused for a second to consider which bag to put a greeting card into, before
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4—socialite, influencer, bear—climbed up to the lido deck of the Good Ship Google and suveyed her followers. This party may never end, she thought to herself. Apple Smart car had
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3cuddle, then clam up, had reached nirvana. this sweet, murderous littke lemon had a newfound zest for life. “Pucker up world,” it said, “it’s time for
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4they purloined our vast stores of couscous and piri piri chicken. Our food vault was almost empty. With only days to go before the bombs dropped, we didn’t have a lot of time to