Finished Folds (101—120)
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6blowing up my phone at 3 in the morning. I decided to answer it, seeing as I was awake anyway. "Hey, Todd," I mumbled into the receiver. "James, my love," he crooned. "How are ya?"
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13in horror, their rotting lips curled upwards in disgust. The fetid stench emanating from my armpits repelled all of the rancid, decaying zombies until I was standing alone in the
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2tried whispering, but it never gave him the same satisfaction as a good, under-your-breath mutter. Daniel had had enough. He released his pent-up energy through screaming instead.
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5"You bastard!" Kane bellowed. His eyes widened with fear, expanding like the captor had never seen before, then burst in a shower of blood and eye goo. Not everyone was suited to
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3It was rather underwhelming, and it took me mere seconds to finish reviewing my life's work. It was little more than a paper trail of court summons and my son, Luigi Alfonsi.
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6fridge. I opened the door and discovered what he'd been buying at the supermarket. The shelves were filled with litres of chocolate milk, a tub of expired yogurt and a dead mouse.
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3my left hand and an atlas in my right. I stopped outside his mother's house and banged on the door. "The Earth is rectangle! Tell your children!" I shouted. She closed the curtain.
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10and mooed loudly. "My apologies, ma'am," I said, stepping out of the queue. I didn't have time to wait for the cows to manoeuvre themselves into the tiny bathroom. I squatted down
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3The alien civilisations were fascinated by the product of the scientists' discovery. We began to receive transmissions from across the galaxy. "Give us the Mountain Dew Pop-tarts!"
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3Tigma and Fugg's throats, crushing them simultaneously in a powerful stranglehold. After a few moments, Urhuum let the vacant bodies of her so-called "friends" drop into the dirt.
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2slowly roast it in foil and bring forth the natural, smoky flavours. Besides, we make sure he cleans his teeth at the start and end of each shift. I could see the health inspector
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5wearing a matte black morph suit and with a sock puppet on either hand. Lexi's expression was flat as she waited for me to react. I put on my best poker face as the right puppet
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3her feet ached and her water bottles were drained. Mrs. Erickson came to a stop on a cliff overlooking the sea. The breeze was stiff and salty, but her sleeping bag shielded her.
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6performed the heart-wrenching solo ballad just at the end of the 1st Act, Satan leapt to his feet and applauded with great enthusiasm. "I love you Newt!" the Lord of Hell bellowed.
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6shame, depressed by my inability to rile the man up. As I made my way down the concrete sidewalk, another plan occurred to me. I grabbed the nearest flowerpot and sprinted back to
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4Working as a pizza delivery driver had never been a goal of mine. I'd wanted to be a ghost hunter. But tracking down the paranormal didn't put pizza on the table. But last night,
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4love: the 1956 release titled "Lappish Joik Songs from Northern Norway". What better way to pay tribute to the memory of my dead, record-loving, Norwegian family members?
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2laughing matter, but the recalcitrant staff members couldn't suppress their snorts and giggles. "Hey, look, it's a dead body," said a short young man with an e-cig in his mouth.
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4McDonald's. This is a family restaurant, after all." It was my best calm, competent managerial voice, but Mr. Dalut hardly seemed to register my words. "I ordered a LARGE fries!"
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3either, but I was campaigning for research grants so that I could conduct a thorough study. Eventually I wound up in front of the grants board with a slideshow and a nervous sweat.