Finished Folds (21—40)
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1ns. In the ambulance, her dream took over. She awoke and began singing “Tapioca Tundra” by the Monkees…LOUDLY. The paramedics pushed her from the speeding ambulance into traffic.
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4being filmed and eventually became part of the opening montage for ABC’s Wide World of Sports. We replaced that ski-jumper who crashed and proudly became the new “agony of defeat."
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1without a drain hole, or something like that. The shipment of Omaha Love Dolls ended up delivered to the wrong place: a KinderCare in Akron, Ohio. The kiddies enjoyed the dolls and
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1incredibly satiated until I realized that what I’d really done was cannibalize Risa. Sooner or later, somebody would miss her. What to do? I swallowed my pride and asked Jo-Jo for
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5So there I was: A half-assed Spiderman scaling a vertical wall with a snot-like adhesive helping me propel myself upward. I looked up and said “Oh, shit!” as the barrel of a pistol
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1with seawater. Cecil addressed the officers on the ship. “C’mon in,” he said, “the water’s fine!” They looked side to side as if asking, ‘should we listen to a goddamned seal?’ The
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4as Nixon thought it would be, scared he’d meet dead members of his Enemies List. “Let me make this perfectly clear,” he told all who’d listen, “the afterlife [expletive deleted]!”
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3so can I…WHOA! Look at the BOOBS!” He shut the smut mag. “I WAS looking, asshat!” That’s what he got for viewing porn in a public toilet. He thrust a roll of TP at the guy, hoping
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2I thought my write-in campaign may have a chance if I chose the right VP. So I chose Jimmy McMillan (“The rent is TOO DAMN HIGH!”) and saw more interest in my candidacy. But Jimmy
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2stood as the angry motorbike sped toward me. Waving my wrench like a matador’s cape (well, sort of) I sidestepped shouting “Olé!” as the motorbike shot by me, supremely pissed off.
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1Nations, even though the UN did not usually book musical acts. Pupa and the Everettes agreed, feeling they should not be known as the “UN House Band.” So they bought a shitload of
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3The cat asked the fool: “So tell me…how would YOU want to meet your end?” The fool, being a fool, misunderstood. “MEET my end? I’ve met my end! I scratch it every day!” The cat was
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2breast pocket was his prized possession: the phone number of the whore he last visited while on liberty. “This one’s for you, slut!” he said, diving his plane to engage the enemy.
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3the White Album 40 times and sung “A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall” all the way through 8 times. In short, our brains were fried when we reached campus and could only mumble
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3wears Army boots!” That was a stupid insult since my dad WAS in the Army and CERTAINLY wore Army boots. I had to think of an original, sensible insult, so I said, “Yeah? Well, YOUR
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1ver and over so the poor plumber stays employed.” I hated that solution since the plumber was going to charge an $80 service call just for showing up each time he married us. That
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2already dismissed Samantha as a valid magical TV character since I was an I Dream of Jeannie fan. My rationale: Suburban housewife vs. big-boobed, bare-midriffed vixen? No contest!
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2ever closer to the edge. “C’mon kitty,” I begged nervously, “don’t push that jar!” But what cat ever did what you wanted? With a final paw swipe, the jar of knives fell toward me,
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3es in favor of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream.” The Daily Llama saw me and nodded. I was nervous and could only stutter, “W-W-Where did you get your sandals, Your Holiness?"
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2But fear pushed aside is not destroyed…just delayed. One day fear pushed back—hard. Then she pushed. Soon fear and her were slap fighting. A crowd gathered. Concessions were sold.