Finished Folds (301—320)
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3wn. "So, who's going first?" came the question. The group eyed each other nervously, waiting for a volunteer. Instead, they decided to kidnap Trump and launch him to North Korea.
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5Tears of delight streamed down his face. "B... b-baby unicorns," he whispered. He spoke the words with the reverence a worshipper says a prayer. One of the unicorn-lings peered up.
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4The Arcturians moaned and rubbed their sore bottoms pathetically. "Those damn Earthlings," they all agreed. The humans then celebrated their victory by spanking each other, gently.
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5the scene, grunting and drooling. "Hu... man..." he said. His voice was low and gravelly, like rocks grinding together. "Hu... man... write!" He turned and looked directly at you.
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6somewhere in the gloom ahead. I paused, my eyes raking through the darkness for the slightest hint of movement. Nothing. I held the dagger before me and crept towards the shack.
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4In Lyra's mind, it was storming. Thunder shook the earth and lightning strobed across the dark sky. Rain pounded down from the dark grey sky. Then reality struck as she gazed out
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3darted out into the garden. Grass that I'd once crushed underfoot now reared above my head, scattering dewdrops into my fur as I ran through it. I needed a mouse-friendly hideout.
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3much since we fled the initial attack. I couldn't tell what the doctor was thinking. Out of boredom, I scuffed my space-boot into the canyon walls, kicking up clouds of red dust.
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1Still, strange as it tasted, the unique flavour became a hit in hipster circles. Worrycakes were wildly popular: I had to churn out more and more worries to keep up with demand.
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2stuffing their pockets full of complimentary mints. The producer's assistant shot them dirty looks, but didn't reprimand the band. They hi-fived as they strutted from the office.
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3We created an underground network of anti-fedora rebels. The GFHC were monitoring all channels of communication, so we had to devise a new way to pass on messages. The solution was
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4Emma woke up to discover that the plastic figurines had vanished from the room. She checked in the closet, under the bed, behind the curtains, but to no avail. Who had moved them?
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4The nurse approached her, coaxing her to take off her socks. "I like the socks," she insisted. The nurse sighed, "but they don't even match!" The patient hissed and crawled back,
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5Before he could act, Faminola stood up and drew a dagger from the garter beneath her long skirt. "Thou wish to desecrate my name, knave?" she snarled. My brother flinched.
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6since it was I who volunteered myself to donate to the blood bank. My breath was coming in ragged gasps and I'd run the last of the adrenaline out of my system. It was going to get
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6"Precisely!" I exclaimed. Perhaps he was finally getting the metaphor. I gestured towards the three mugs on the table, each filled with steaming hot coffee. "So if you shift this
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4the horse had his teeth in the back of my underwear. I wriggled and squirmed, but the horse was relentless and I achieved nothing but wedging the fabric further up my ass. Ouch!
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3readers. A group of dyslexic readers filed a class action against the company for their discriminatory communication methods. They threw money at an elite attorney, but for naught.
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2I couldn't face the shame - they called me the Sardine Swindler, or the Fishy Fibber. I picked out a lovely cave on the rolling green hills of New Zealand and began living as a
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4regardless of the hand requirements for the actor! Why won't you support me?" Paul raised an eyebrow, unmoved. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Look, kiddo, who's the pro here?"