Finished Folds (201—220)
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2decides that he can't take it anymore. Mr Lee rips off his clothes and runs outside into the pouring rain. Standing under it, he feels cleansed, and he begins to scream,
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4there was not a toad to be seen, really?! Why'd he even bother to pay good money for the latest Swamp Bath(TM) if there wasn't a toad in it?
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4from the gaping abyss she called a mouth. She lifted herself up, trying to locate her tormentor, but only saw a flash of peacock tail before they disappeared. Peeling skin off her
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2it's not my fault that, in one of the many alternate timelines that exist, I just happened to utter words that would shift him to one where he caught fire at that moment. See?"
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8ever? He had the shiniest flushtank, and his seat was always wiped. When they pooped in him, he complimented them, telling them he was proud of them for eating healthy. As a toilet
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4universe trying to find rope strong enough to keep them bound, and now that they had found it, they weren't likely to undo the knot. "I'm happy here," they said
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5would have faulted him for what he did next. He bolted through the door, not one of his earthly possessions in tow, and he didn't stop running even as his father bellowed
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1to blackmail him with pictures of him as a cub. They had embarrassing photos which could ruin his reputation, but he was the one with claws. Satisfied with his plan, he
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2bawling for him to free her, but he was resolute. She was trapped as he went and poured himself some lemonade, wondering how long it would take the neighbours to call the cops.
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2everything she'd worked for. She thanked him with a sigh and went to board the plane. Walnut wood. She was giving up her life for this, for
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5they landed, there would be nobody to stop them from inflicting bell bottoms on the rest of the world. Somebody had to stop Chevy and his gang and save Alaska. Just not me.
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6eating only mice and gruel. Never again would he venture to the world above. Not when he had the alligators and the slime-caked walls for company. He cursed the theatre
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2appear behind you, whispering friendly suggestions about ways you could do it better. Eventually you'll have a permanent imprint of Richard Simmons behind your eyeballs.
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5hurt like hell. Seriously, I remember this one time in preschool where I slashed this guy with a paper sword and cut him in half. My grandma had told me, "Don't mess with paper
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3I couldn't die for a second time. I glanced around. Purgatory wasn't what I'd expected. Everything smelled like old socks, and there was blue glass as far as the eye could see. I
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3All I needed was to get Grandpa's old rifle out of the attic -- it was perfect for slaying dragons. But first I'd have to get past the angry attic ghost, which
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7gluteus maximus. Dread penetrated my very being as I turned around. Behind me was a vast cephalopod. It'd eaten the rest of the city, and I was its next victim.
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4let the cosmos wash over me in cold waves of plasma. Just beyond my reach was Heaven. If I wanted to ascend to that higher level of existence, I'd first have to kill
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4from the forces of the Monochrome. I wanted to distract Captain Indigo away from the Magic Prism, so I drew my black-and-white sword. "Come at me," I whispered as he
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4themselves with broken broomsticks while they dance on faucets. It was a distinctly strange form of dance, but he wanted to be part of their world even if