Finished Folds (41—49)
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2our new line of snortable cannibis, Capri Canna-Snorts in various strains to calm what ails you. It makes the traffic leaving soccer practice seem like a tenable proposition. ~FIN~
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2Pagoda ruins. Behemoth drunk was one thing. Throw a drunk Levianthan into the mix & you've got a rain of ruin coming down on you. "But they're good tippers," say the sycophants.
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1a man’s voice behind me. My blood ran cold. I stood up straight and turned around. It was a badge. A parking warden. He was looking at the condom packet in the girl’s hand. “Balloo
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1stood up, claimed she had the airs and left the room. The next day they heard back that My Vagina was a go but absolutely no jingos for it were authorized. Oscar Meyer would sue.
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3indelible taste in one's soul. The more tortured, the more indelible. In keeping with the new PC leanings of the Wiccan Council, she refused to genderize Samsung. Fecundity became
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5whoopie cushion to KILL. I took off 7 pairs of clown shoes before I was in my stocking feet. I pulled the old, "Hey look over there at those titmice". When the other clown looked,
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3off the government teat. Norman's orange parka's shoulders sagged. He was disheartened that his fashion sense wasn't being appreciated. These Retro-Antebellum sensibilities weren't
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1Not purely as purported but passably opaque. Or obtuse, I'm not acute enough. Peter robbed Paul to pay the piper on a pterodactyl with ptomaine poisoning puking his Peking man on a
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2We both went through Xtina phases but her screeches were grating. Whereas The Edge always took the edge off Bono's screeching. Outside the burning Targets said "This is America".