Finished Folds (461—480)
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4to immense size and busted out. The tomatoes terrorized the city but were halted when the army blocked the road with giant bacon, lettuce, mayo, and toast. There were BLTs for all!
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3sprigs of parsley and a whole roast ox. I’d worked up quite an appetite walking. Prices weren’t on the menu, and the bill came to $2760. Guess I could’ve done without the parsley.
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5the Martians. Thor rigged a box-and-stick trap, the kind Elmer Fudd set to try and capture Bugs Bunny. The trap sucked, and the Martians didn’t like the bait either, which was
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6rye to steel his nerves, for he’d never whacked anyone but a snooty figure skater. Finding the door ajar, he went in and was set upon by the tots, who beat him silly with his bat.
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4one of them falling down and crushing me to death. But which tree would do that? It was suicide for a tree to uproot itself and fall; not one volunteered. They thought some more,
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10were more concerned about fining her for the undeclared apple she had in her carry-on. She could hear in the distance the orphans crying that they were being kidnapped, but nobody
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9began looking at the fish like he belonged in a pan on her stove. When Mrs. Max pulled a fry pan from her cupboard and walked toward the fish, the fish started to stink defensively
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3“Friends,” said Ravi, “you have to admit that’s some REALLY excellent weed the ushers passed out to you!” He broke into Purple Haze, rocking his sitar like a crazed Hindu Hendrix.
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3“Quiet, you Bulbous Bumpkin!” shouts Dr. Smith behind the peep hole. The Robot, tired of the constant insults, shoots lightning from his arms into the hole, killing Smith. I cry.
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5with Joe “Weddings & Bar Mitzvahs” Pulaski, a psychologist and accordion player. With Joe’s help, she was no longer ashamed of her obsession—and she made a few bucks at gigs, too.
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1toward me. McMurphy must’ve been nearsighted; he got within 3 feet of me and realized I was no mouse—or I was a giant one. Sliding to an abrupt halt, the cat turned tail and I gave
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4thought, “Could this be a faker, trying to muscle in on my Santa gig?” Investigating the source of the “ho-ho’s,” Chris Kringle rounded a corner and found himself face to face with
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4The catcalls and whistling from the plants energized me, and when one imitated a stripper drumbeat of “BUMP-bump-a-BUMP-bump-a-bump-bump---BUMP!” I stood up unashamedly and danced.
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3“You’ll have a hard time with octaves!” “YOU’LL have a hard time, PERIOD!” I yelled. I doused the piano with petrol and lit it aflame. The keys played “My Old Flame” as it burned.
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2up, expecting a shootout. Instead, he welcomed them, serving tea, cakes, and hospitality. “Weren’t we going to arrest him?” said one cop upon leaving. “A nice guy like that? Nah!"
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5with the turkeys, who had lobbied for citizenship for years and considered chicken citizenship the ultimate injustice. The turkeys retaliated by pecking the chickens to death.
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4he could play a pan pipe expertly. There was also the sexual-prowess legend, but he was dismayed to discover the tiny member between his legs. “What good is the rest of this crap?"
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3at the White House Cinco de Mayo celebration. Paulsen began talking shit, so Nixon secretly got G. Gordon Liddy to beat the hell out of him as he walked up 15th Street. Battered
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3watched as the dragon roared in pain and flapped its wings, trying desperately to extinguish its stinking, flaming armpits. Her deed done, she mounted a passing triceratops and
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2Stormy Daniels was scheduled to arrive for a book signing. Trump fled out the back door to wait for his limo. Detectives Pelosi and Schumer spied Trump in their stakeout car and