Finished Folds (61—80)
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4Birds could be heard playing on his tablet. No. Not this night. Not any more nights to come. Rudolph kicked the door open with a hoof and pumped the Nerf™ shotgun at Timmy's face.
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1a button off of his pants, and Drago made spluttering sounds with his mouth before stomping off through Tazmily Hills after the sound of a motorbike. It wasn't really a motorbike.
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4street below a chocolate fondue. Wes was watering wisterias when we witnessed what was worming westwards while weighing one's whims. Naturally, we torched the high-rise. It was the
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2weren't allowed to show death in those days, what with the wars and such, so 4-F men would sneak onions past concessions to simulate crying at the suggestive parts. "This isn't an
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4Michaels "Pokemon" Sodomy was our new parish reverend who volunteered at the tennis court by picking up stray balls, so he invented summer vestments to beat the global warming heat
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3eventually lapsed into a deep depression over all the things they thought they wanted to do until one day you realize, "No, this is who I am, a lazy, self-hating monster," and then
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3can handle a cephalopod's obscure medicinal needs. Call this number, ask for Dr. Saul-Jesus, and tell him what you've been prescribed." Aquaman patted the criminal on the back and
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3So I applied it topically to the artist's face with a smash and fled that gallery, leaving behind my macaroni pasta rendering of "The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies"™ forever.
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5It was their child, the half-human, half-human hybrid, who grew up to be the one and only Rear Admiral Rectal-Scrape that won World War III for the Allied forces, thus ending the
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1guttural tic of his, even if it was inappropriate and uncalled for, or just had nothing to do with what Col. Rumcheeks' party had been conversing about (like YouTube suggestions).
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3urine in the compost first might be better, because the acidity isn't good for the plants you're growing, and your morning urine should have the most nutrients. You're in!
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3Problem was, Leviathan was shocked easily, and every time he frothed at the mouth, Behemoth would counter with a swipe. They reconciled over a Moomba Mambo and flan at the Honeybee
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3genuine Matt Groening "Life in Hell" comics where they get naked and do it. After that, you couldn't buy Mr. T's cereal in this town. Plop plop fizz fizz oh god my eyes burn.
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1istukkah, Matt Groening will answer questions. "Why does Itchy hate Scratchy?" I asked. "Because," Matt said, "he's jealous of Scratchy's giant dick." He really hates his audience.
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4Instead we got a "wah wah" brass instrument--I don't remember the name. It doesn't sound exactly like a trumpet or tuba or saxomaphone, but I'm no music teacher. I don't even drink
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3but opted instead for their recommended dinner: Dipping Triscuits into a jar of pizza sauce. "You won't know if it's good or terrible!" Time promised. "We'll see about that," said
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3turnstile to bellow up the stairs: "The beer cheese is in the medicine chest, Mother! The air conditioner is on the fritz!" Hoping no Germans heard me, I leapt through the window
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2and a whole thing of bleu cheese dipping sauce to myself, and I was set. I could dip those bones in there and lick that cheese then ask for a refill. Buffalo Wild Wings kept 'em
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3from the Mariana Trench with a mozzarella tomato sandwich and a packet of prunes. Realizing his mistake too late, Bob's prunes instantly bloated. Bubbles forming a swear word rose
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3and the llama looked at me and something just happened. Sparks flew. Not romantic sparks. Maybe romantic in the adventurous sense of the word. I think I was a llamataur in a past