Finished Folds (41—60)
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5I'm not convinced that's really a star. She whispered her thoughts to me on the hillside, and then we watched it sail across the horizon. It's not, I told her, it's
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4but not before dunking my laptop in a large tub of ice cubes. It never worked, of course, but I was a sucker for online advice. Always was and
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4odd, wasn't it? But it sure was good cover for all of those jewelry store heists that she would do in every town where the show was being shot. No one would suspect Lynda Carter
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4" but that only brought on a puzzled look, and a quick scramble for the dictionary.
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5Stairway to Heaven, or maybe some Freebird. I kept scrolling when I finally found the one that would do the trick. It was
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2dive into bowls of milk, searching for lost spoons. It was a job with more hazards than one might guess, but it was a job. Still, one had to wonder: who was losing
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2The problem was that the new federal regulations replaced the glass with plexiglass. So now there was the problem of bouncing snowglobes everywhere you looked. One even
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4YOU ain't seen nothing ..." and then would drone on and one until you were sure to fall asleep, hit with stressful nightmares. He wished his grandmother had never thrown away that
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5on eBay, where she made her small fortune in the elderly market. Those old folks would buy just about anything, she realized. One day, though
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3But of course, he was also getting into the sugar bin in that tree house, where the Keebler elves lived. They put up with him because
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4"Snap." The pencil tip broke. She clicked to bring down more lead. "Snap." She cursed under breath. "Hold on," she muttered into the phone. "I'll be
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4Lipstick Louise. Panty Malone. The Handcuff Girl. Is that the best they could do? Secretly, she already had her nickname, although to reveal it she
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5use duct tape to keep them still long enough to learn. Why, that duct tape salesman was here just the other day, giving us nice discounts. I put the phone number
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1As a little child, he would spend hours in the woods, picking up rocks to see what squirmed beneath. It was a metaphor for his life now, he realized. He spent his days
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3I sat down at the drum set. It had been a long time. Upstairs, I could hear the family whispering about something or another. I had enough. I took the drum sticks and began
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0I ducked, mostly of our fear but something kicked in, too. Some sort of instinct. My body moved as if it were of its own volition. Suddenly
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1She wiped her hands and let him lick her fingers. The sounds of the church organ began, and she took a deep breath and
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4"I don't care what you say, I'll never like you like I used to," she yelled, slamming the door. I stood there, wondering about the words and whether or not
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3the cats unsheathed their claws and got into their stance. It was going to be
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4marbles in the palm of her hand. The others waited expectantly. Would she remember how to play? She didn't but that wouldn't stop her from