Finished Folds (1241—1260)
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2Jamal complemented the emotions on his sleeves with thoughts on his lapel. “I think ‘woodpecker’ is a compound double-entendre,” read a large lapel pin. His cufflinks conveyed
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2hanging with The Ellipses and wreaking havoc on Señor Clause (the stress had rendered Sr. Clause commatose). As long as the runoff from my bath water didn't run off w/ the Run-Ons
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3The Great Void was a void’s void, just as Steve McManaman, its lone resident, was a man’s man. The isolation worked wonders for Steve’s
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2spun out on a peel in his 150cc go-(c/k)art trying to escape. George's steroidal, bananadine-fueled rage was all it took for him to confuse the man in the yellow hat for lunch. Jus
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1Voiceover: “Are you one of the tens of tens who suffer from Phantom Mustache Syndrome?” Alex Trebek, listening, air-grabbed Wheat Thins crumbs from his upper lip. “PMS threatens
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9like that night the Moonshoes for Hippos fund hosted its annual bruncheon there. A Hard Rock employee held a large blue dot in front of Elvis's crotch when he performed, lest girls
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4ran home to protect their silver farthing towers at the mere mention of Robin Hood. The foxy redistributor cast a magnetic lure in the direction of the Sheriff's riches, reeling in
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4the Quaker child I caught scavenging my oatmeal. The buckle on his little Quaker hat had rusted, and his little Quaker boots weren't polished, so I took pity. "Have a Chewy bar," I
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3-by rompers, and then an Orange Julius. A mango passión smoothie spilled on the pleather interior, causing me to swerve violently into the Mall Rat King. Its listless preteen gazes
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2He got a job at a saloon so he could just add an 'o' to his business cards and save a trip to Kinko's. "Would you care for a makeover?" he asked a gruff patron playing darts. "Eyel
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5to turn us into human Jack-In-the-Box's. We were tied to metal coils and had been coated in clown make-up. Then, the music started. We braced ourselves. The large lid swung open
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5calculators that displayed "hello" as a nice gesture, but no dice. Passers by mistook Keyboard Keith for a ballpark DJ-turned-bum, so he quickly amassed a fortune of nickels and bi
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6when my master turned on A Few Good Men, and I heard "You can't handle the truth," as I ran in my wheel. I spoke of the truth at length, and when other hamsters read my manifesto,
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3made up for it. He stuffed his victims and mounted them at a Reincarnation Lounge, awaiting a new life-force to inhabit them. The killer put a bus ticket in their pockets and
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3worked at the King of Clubs Club. "The centrifugal force of pole-dancing is hurting Crazy Queen's fetus," said a Fetus Protective Services agent who hung out at strip clubs. A lion
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6He finally manned up and said, "I'm sorry, New York Times, but this relationship isn't working. I've found someone else to -mâché my papier." In his hand was an issue of Sports Ill
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5and swerved around him, for fear that 90% of his girth was hidden underwater. His shoulders were starting to peel from the sunburn, and the salt water only worsened the problem. J
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5Pete didn't realize that his binoculars were actually a View-Master filled with images of pedestrian lettuce. In the first slide, the lettuce wore velcro light-ups with Buzz
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3A gumball moon orbited the ship. But the moon's and cadbury planet's sugar was sucked out by an open-ended pixy stick (the equivalent of a black hole in the Easterverse). No sugar
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2in dire need of some light pollution. I pointed my strobe heat lamps skyward and basked in the destruction of the rural night. Maybe this would convince my neighbors to