Finished Folds (1641—1660)
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4-us (a short bus chain store that sold cinnamon cannabis). "Like, order," said the leader. "We need to, like, write an anti-Mannequin Manifesto, y'all dig?" Stacy texted Tracy that
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7(emergencies only). He eyed the form's next item. "Granny, what's your telephone number?" She replied, "2-7. Jitterbug keeps it simple." "Hmm, alright. Have you ever abused drugs?"
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7bedazzler and went to work. "Operation: Hobo-Fabulous" was the city's latest attempt to lift a veil over poverty. "I'm so hungry," said the suddenly less disgusting hobo. I turned
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5social commentary, I thought. Corporations were milking my adolescent insecurities! I went online to search for security-enhancers: "Let's see... ADT, Norton, Life Alert, and
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2"At this rate, we'll be up the creek without a paddle in no time," she thought, the momentum of the dock and boats propelling her towards Calamity Creek. Little Toot (the Tug Boat)
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4I set up a Facebook account for "Barry Wellen Dowd," a prime hunk of man, and declared us as "In a Relationship." His first status: "I love my girl like I love jacking lumber." We
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2Or was it I who was merely hungry? It was all relative, I supposed. But the larvae pit was rather opulent. The giant critterlings had set up an interpretive dance studio and
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3But when our escape dinghy began treading water, we were forced to eat more processed meat and duck pancreases than we had bargained for. As sharks circled our craft, we sacrificed
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1goats to fit in. Suddenly, the gator sub issued an ominous tic-tocking sound. "The self-destruct sequence!" said the agent. "My beloved Billy Goat must've chewed a wire." She ran
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3But the scene quickly shifted from "Dial for Men" to "Dial M for Murder." Mrs. Dowd liked her victims to be squeaky clean for remembrance's sake. After the gun smoke dissipated,
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2s with Judas, Brutus, and Cassius. As my trench coat slid off, a reporter asked, "Are those wings?" "You filthy slime, I will drag you to Hell!" I replied. My inauguration as town
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8it turned into an axe. As the EMT (Emergency Magic Technician) rushed onto the stage, I thought, "I can barely imagine it myself." Suddenly, I heard a voice yell, "Shut it down!"
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4be disassembled and thrown back in the box soon. Why were kids so eager to dispose of our romantic subplots in their Lego fantasies? I longed to ride off into the bricky sunset on
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4homing torpedoes at mom's tuna casserole as she let fly insults and musket fire. Writing fan fiction for my life was just the spice it needed. But would anyone read of my exploits?
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6The clock's intention's were pure. He had merely accelerated his hands as a kind of gear workout. But in doing so, he inadvertently fast-forwarded everyone's lives. Luckily, TiVo
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4likely because they had devolved to a humanoid paste. Staving off postmortem anhedonia with expressive eyebrows, the undead Eloi nudged along the Plan-A-Picnic kits until a Morlock
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3perfectly good secretaries. "What did I tell you about using laser printers?" Laser Cat would ask. They would chant, "They make you feel inadequate, boss," and be terminated via
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4That word's on page 264. I had decided to read one of the dictionaries as I lifted the rest. I was working my body and mind (pages 37 and 682, respectively). But what of my spirit?
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3cluster of cells shaped like top hats. "The infection has spread to you, Mick," said Lincoln's dehumanized, yet tenderly honest voice. At The Stones' next gig, Mick sprouted facial
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4was a kamikaze pilot wearing indestructible teflon armour. As the Iron Vulture spiraled towards me, I brashly wielded the high-end, Williams-Sonoma soaps and kitchenware beside me.