Finished Folds (1561—1580)
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4ce so he could watch "Courage the Cowardly Dog" on the backseat TV. He got out his road map. "Looks like the Yellow Brick Road is just past Fleet Street," said the Lion. The auto
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2name tag he Sharpied over "Andy". His new barista pseudonym was "&e". But his twitter-savvy hipster rival, "@#", entered with a Slint concert tee and a post-post-modern smirk. "May
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6adapted to my uneasiness, becoming funkily vocoded and auto-tuned. I approached the intercom from whence the Voice came. "Dr. Robotnik, is that you?" I asked. I could hear beans
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6would watch Jeopardy online at 7, and then with Grandpa at 7:30. "What is 'Toot Too Root' by The Gaylords?" she said correctly. She'd also predicted A.T.'s six references to Canada
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3kindred spirits. The White Rocks of Dover were united in manifest destiny, in a world ruled purely by rockkind. "Earth could use a clean slate," I thought as my face pressed into
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7u texts and saw a philosophical article on willing. "Heady stuff for a doctor's office," I thought, starting to read: "The only true drive is pure will..." The blood drive vanished
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5were gentle, but didn't foresee them clogging the toilet. The stressed pipe expanded, and the entire office felt the strain of the plumbing aneurysm. The cubicle faces reddened and
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1the "roof fell in" (rather than being raised). Suddenly, a green Lunesta butterfly fluttered around him. "A counterspike!" he yelled, recalling his odd-tasting lunchtime milk. He
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4point that the lightspeed sandwiches' lives rewinded before their eyes. Joe was struck by a cow covered in wheat. Joe flung his orange juice, which turned to oranges just before
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4Tiki Tikitembo was peeved. "If I create Trivial Pursuit, will you leave Me be?" A game board appeared before them. But this only gave them more questions: "How long is a furlong?"
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3-ter berated me, "You no see Wet Paint sign? Stupid australopithecines! No culture." I looked beneath my feet at the ruined cave floor painting of a mammoth herd. "I fix," I said.
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11unaware that Frank had deaf Mr. Potato Head ears. He nodded politely with his bobblehead neck as he propped up his rabbit's foot, basking in the silence. He was a lucky man/thing.
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1solving a Rubik's Tetrahedron. Luckily, Huggies had developed potty training gloves and even full-body diapers. She velcroed him into a fresh one and instructed him never to
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4a competitor's slacks. The Banana Republicans questioned my partisanship. This time around, I wore a Bananas in Pajamas costume with alpine stripe socks. "How do I look?" I asked
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4Goodnight Moon was no exception. I fled the theatre when the murderous bunny said, "Goodnight cadaver, goodnight blood splatter." It was rated G for "Gang violence and Gangrenous
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3School Zone. "Speed limits are for slaves of the illusory," said the bunny, whose colors now required the index of a jumbo Crayola box to describe. I nudged my foot towards the
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4since they cooked all the decent chefs. I picked at my chef's salad with lamb blood dressing. "You forgot yer grace," said a cult member. I muttered, "Oh, Galactic Order, lift me
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8His wife caught him tasting Vivaldi's Four Seasons. "Honey, the doctor said no fine wine," she implored. "Why not try Nickelback? It's substance-free and tastes like Pop Rocks."
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4and "quixotically" swept "qabalahs" into the dustbin. I peered beneath the futon, where I found Lex (from Bookworm) withering beside a Boggle board. "Too many consonants," he said
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8wear antiperspirant today - he never wore any on days ending in "day". Sweaty Ron approached in his sleeveless shirt. "SpeedStick Man, help!" I cried. Suddenly, the sky parted and