Finished Folds (3041—3060)
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3backfire was monetary insulation. I could have all the fables and digital fiction to impress my mind for an entire lifespan, but corporate drudgery was our waking Hell. My only
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1I wish you to deliver to unto me with my mouth wide open, my arms spread out as though I were singing an operetta. Something by Andy Lloyd Weber, because he's god. He's god, damn
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1suspected something was amiss, but not that something was afoot. The door to the diner was ajar, so he sat down to mull matters over with a slice of pie a la mode. He selected
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1know that somehow, the West Mississippi Plastic Pants Task Force could narrow down one of a billion Mandarin Chinese speakers, but she had no way of getting in covert contact with
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3Preferring the horse to the lady, she patted the massive creature on his left flank. She tightened the gloves around her wrists and set to work with her implements for the purpose
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3licking, as cows slowly stamped their way from the ranching building, attracted by the buttermilk streaming down our faces. You ever seen a cow's tongue? It's friggin' huge. We
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1It didn't keep her plastic pants clean, unfortunately, and the West Mississippi Plastic Pants Task Force wouldn't be proud of that. She covered the ice cream stains instead with a
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3for the common cold, but as I keep telling you, I'm not right in the head. I'm not West Mississippi Plastic Pants Task Force material. So the solicitor agreed with me so long as
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1the goddamn TV remote? Martha?! MARTHA! Stupid fat ho, why did I marry such a lazy woman. Can't get a veteran a beer or a TV remote and...what the hell's this under my ass? It
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4she had left the sleazy, dimly lit world of beatnik poetry slams and stand-up "comedy", the lowest form of humor. Instead she opted for the superior dimly-lit world of cashews and
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1he'd found a bushy extremity emerging from just above his own posterior. Now he'd have three prehensile limps useful for cooking food on "live" television! It worked out for the
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3llama-driven stagecoach, my vaudeville mustache curling gaily. "Have at thee, knaves of accounts receivable!" and I macheted the lot of them with my foil. Tailless cur. Heroicly
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4on the last scrap of toilet paper in all of existence. I know! "Get...more...toilet paper." That was a good idea. Something worth holding onto, but not sharing. Carefully I
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3the police already had it and arrested me on charged for animal abuse." I shut the diary there, my face furrowed with contempt for its author. Oh no...that could only mean my pet
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1but when I interpreted statements by supplanting words in place of where there were none, there was no wonder why I failed my communications course in uni. That reason, as well as
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3The escort van of my imprisonment rattled and rolled by a force-only rocket blast. The nonlethal weapon was hallmark of the West Mississippi Plastic Pants Task Force. I knew then
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3by opening your trenchcoat. "Eeeek!" Uh oh, something seems to have startled the princesses! Better get out of here, or your nemesis, the Police, will arrive and elec-tag you
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1condemned any backwards-walkers with stiffer penalties than those for sexual deviants (no pun intended). The gov't was headed up by Strom Thurmond and Bob Dornan, with figurehead
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4He ate it and started to feel real ill. It wasn't sitting well. His face was turning teal. He told himself he should have known that the meat would be congealed. So he wheeled
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6agaaaiiiin~. Just then the time-traveling phone booth reappeared, and the Master stepped out with his goatee unfurled. "Quickly, you pair of idiots, get in here." Bill and Ted