Finished Folds (1581—1600)
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2But the meat contaminated the ocean, making the recipe impossible to duplicate for several years, and every time someone tried, the ocean became ill once more. No soup for you.
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2a storm, barking up the wrong tree, and barking out "Jingle Bells". Horrified, she covered both her ears and ran down Broadway Avenue, singing like Liza Minelli to drown out the
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3her a mickey that turned out to be a mouse. Pages gratefully ate the mouse while she browsed the library's card catalogue for books on how to operate a computer without a "thingy".
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4But after we got off drugs, we realized that the Aces lived in a hole, and from then on politely declined any further invitations from them, no matter how classy their taste in
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4filling its ink tube. The pen had to think fast. It dragged itself to a diner at the edge of the desert and tried to write "Marbury did it" on the waitress' order pad, but the sand
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3more than just the one finger, she surely would have snapped them. Too late now, the mould was gone and the Queen was all ready late for this year's Cher Farewell Tour. Her limo
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6sent out a force field that sent the Five Little Peppers tumbling quickly away from me. By then my Deflecto-Hands were depleted, and the Peppers were re-grouping. I had to think of
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8-ead of instructing me to apply warm compresses and gently pull out the ingrown pubic hairs one by one, the sadist. So here I was about to perform my high-wire act with irritating
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4manufactured the ugliest cars in the world, but by visiting aliens who were jealous because even though they had rockets, they had never invented cars. So they pushed all the cars
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5my house, trying to get my delicious fries. In a frenzy, they busted through the windows and flapped wildly into the kitchen. One got too close and toppled into the deep frier.
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3The phone rang again, and again Chance answered. This time it was Chick Corea. He could tell by the trumpet blaring into the phone. "How did you get this number, man?" Chance asked
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2determined to clap me into the looney bin. "What does this pile of charred human remains remind you of?" he asked me, practically wetting himself in anticipation. "Um, flowers?" I
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5Then came that fateful day when one of my zombic creations surpassed my capabilities and stole my job. "Me Dr. Frankenstino now," he droned as he pushed me out of my office and set
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4gazed askance at the Play-Doh Fun Factory, but so strong was his Play-Doh addiction that Jerry could not resist one little glance. The electrodes in his beanie sent immediate jolts
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5regarded as low-brow. "Let the hoi-polloi don their Wal-Mart t-shirts," proclaimed the president of PBS as he stood naked on his soap-box. That was just before he fell, of course.
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2The dreams of his roast chicken days had made him forget that he had fallen out of an airplane only moments ago. He seemed to be falling towards the coast of Costa Rica. He could
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2"Will nothing stir this peanut butter?" the choir of peanuts lamented (in five-part harmony). They watched, aghast, as the peanut butter lumbered to the box office to ask for its
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2This reduced wolf-claw piano recording of Peter and the Wolf received lukewarm acclaim. "Lacks tooth" -NYTimes. "I thought there was supposed to be an oboe" - Clueless Listener.
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3One must trust the word of the employee behind the chicken counter. But Sir John had not lowered himself to consult with such a meagerly paid employee. This is what happens when
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2Triumphantly, Murph the mouse ponced about, using the stick as a cane. Big Jim the cat recovered from the blow to his ear and snuck up on Murph, his pupils dilated with rage. In a