Finished Folds (1—20)
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3terrified. Could he unsee what he had seen? The stalks of corn beat against his face as he ran, like the thrash of flagellation, and he opened himself up to the delicious misery of
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2A cherry picker raised up behind him with a photographer in it. *CLICK* Soon, he was in every dentist's office, his misfortune coupled with the motivational quote: "HANG IN THERE!"
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3, cultivate the seeds, wait 6 months to harvest the plant, construct an oast to dry and cure them, and find a sharp rock to shred them. The genius of my plan was in its simplicity.
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5gingerbread porn. That pretty much ruined it for everybody.
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4"VERY WELL," said the voice from a hitherto hidden speaker behind a potted plant. "YOU ARE HEREBY RELEASED FROM THE GAME." A trap door opened, and he was gone without ceremony.
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5and the inclusion of the Royal Yorkies was an inspired touch!" The Queen, ever mindful of sycophants, rolled her regal eyes. "Well, one does require a hobby," she allowed.
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4Washington DC's premiere sleep deprivation think tank and party store, Dreams R Us. Now I would have my child on the streets, destitute, like a Pauper of Normal PJs. Such is life.
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4Was this the last taste I'd ever experience? "Don't be so dramatic," said my mother, who was dead. How was she speaking to me? Ah, I see, I was also dead now. "Hi, mom," I said.
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6"Alexa, call me an Uber." The device beeped. "WOULD YOU LIKE A CLOWN UBER?" it asked. "Yes, yes," I muttered and I straightened my tiny tie and bent to re-tie my giant shoes.
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4"It's blown! Fur Mountain has blown its top!" And sure enough, it had. Hair and fur and molten follicles rained from the sky. All the while, the sentient tumbleweed sulked.
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2My parts fared no better. I may be a zombie, but I am still made of fragile matter, and an atom bomb is an atom bomb. Still, my undead brain kept sluggishly ticking in my severed
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3and that left me with 3 minutes and 42 seconds to live. Let's see, what else is on the list. Aha! "Excuse me," I told him, then proceeded to sing my favorite 3 minute song.
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4The kids are running wild, pecking at the adults' ankles like chickens.
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5Grandma immediately used her new powers to declare Westley the King of the Beasts. Now Westley could command various deer and squirrels to do his greedy bidding.
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6had returned the shoes. The SHOES. The shiny tasseled weejuns with their buttery leather and air cushioned soles. "WHY?" His feet were happy, but his life lay in mournful tatters.
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4cheered, or rather, bellowed. Even wee baby Minnie Moose sent up a joyful squeak. From now on, this moose family would be respected, free, and covered by universal healthcare.
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3reality just carb slingers contributing to the ever expanding coastline of his perpetually angry gut. He was on the fifth stage of grief for the body he once had, and no longer
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5convenience store with only one working gas pump. They went inside and found nobody behind the counter. "Should we rob it?" he joked. "Shh," she said, pointing at the corner, where
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3the front door and paused to take in the scene. So they HAD thrown a party, despite his explicit instructions not to. Typical. "EVERYBODY OUT!" he bellowed, his large body shaking.
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3vodka, each blobby bullet of liquor weakening the Alien Jello bodies and making them way more fun to have at parties. "Aim for the Queen, men!" She wobbled in the corner, pregnant