Finished Folds (381—400)
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3ingestion of the food, the population was wiped out in a devastating global extinction. It really was a shame that simple saturated fats had brought this noble race to their knees.
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3and paper cranes were among his skill set. Diaper Boy's fingers flew across the paper, creasing and smoothing and folding like nobody's business. Then at long last, the paper fell.
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2gretting their decision right now?" I sighed. I looked at the chefs' faces, searching for guilt. Ah well, it was no good now anyway. I took the mousse out and began devouring it.
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2The dog was busy running his Etsy business... On the internet, nobody knows you're a dog. He could sell customised wrapping paper and resin earrings without confusing the humans.
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2"What the merde is a sammich?" Antione retorted. "Child, I'm your mother, not your maid." Ana harrumphed indignantly and crossed her arms. "But maman!" she pouted, "I'm hungry!"
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5pal." The ocean monstrosity writhed violently to punctuate his words. "I ain't no brown-nosing detective any more. I'm the King of the Whirlpools." He bared his rows of long fangs.
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1ckle torture? I haven't been a child for a long time, but the image of someone wriggling their fingers, closing in on me, sent shivers of fear down my spine. I know I'm ticklish,
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3She stood on the doorstep, her palms sweating. She hastily swiped them against her skirt, only she'd forgotten that she was wearing satin. Her damp hands left trails. She glanced
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4were becoming unbearably insolent. "I don't want to do this," I said, taking my phone from my pocket. I scrolled through my contacts list, found 'Tree Killers 'R' Us' and dialled.
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4beside me, her trunk wrapped around my hand. She trumpeted softly and looked at me with baby doll eyes. I sighed. I couldn't return her! We exited the department store together.
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4echoes of the rasping barks. When she'd exhausted her Liza Minelli repertoire, she stopped running and slipped into a quiet alleyway. The crowd on Broadway babbled, but the sound
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3I leaned back in my chair, two of its legs in the air. I crossed my arms behind my head, elbows pointing skywards. "Well, I sure as hell ain't moving," I declared. I looked at him
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5Who knows where the other 96% turn up? Some say it's underneath the sofa cushions, and some say it's under your leg the whole time you're looking around for it. The remotes of the
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5'Wow, I'm so British right now,' the sad little muppet thought. The thought made him a bit less sad, and he felt like an amicable little muppet instead. The next song was "Heroes"
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3brag about her success on social media. Her favourite past-time was posting foodie shots on Instagram, always with "#blessed #foodie" somewhere in the caption. It drove her friends
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4and got to chopping. He carved a path of green carnage, slicing stems and leaves with ferocious abandon. He became so engrossed in the act of destruction that he didn't see the
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3it's time for dinner. Then the chef can haul the hope back onto the deck and prepare the food as required. The ocean salt did miracles for emphasising the flavour of the meat.
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4fell flat, much like the flies dying by the windowsill. Nobody cleaned, so dust and dead flies built up in the corners year after year. The air became as stale as the cliche jokes.
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2the impossibly tall shelves, which were jammed with books and seemed to stretch upwards to the ceiling. Pages wanted to stop and investigate the titles, but the mouse prodded her.
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8e're carnivores. We eat meat," the alpha wolf explained. Buckets began to feel a little nervous as the wolves exchanged looks. The pack fell upon the clown in a whirlwind of fangs.