Finished Folds (1—20)
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2claimed, but deep down, he knew he wasn't capable. He clenched his fists and imagined a parallel universe where he was capable, where reality got along with expectations. He cried.
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3curses and prayers in his native tongue. The security guard standing beside the entrance wore a turban. He felt a surge of kinship. He walked up to the guard and said,
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3the truth, and if they dare, you'll most likely regret it. I spun the bottle and when it stopped, its neck pointed toward Talking Dog #7. "Truth or dare," he sniggered. It was the
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6third breast with an eye for a nipple, and the hair was blinding that eye. She lifted a razor, brought it close to her chest, and
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8I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around. It was him. What was left of him. He opened his mouth to say something but his breath knocked me out. I woke up
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5Pro, but little did he know the Pro stood for Procreation. At night, his laptop would often sneak out of his room and force itself onto other electronic devices whether they liked
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4flood the world with a million beaming faces. Ted had done something like that before. He had changed all alphabets to their ASCII values so they became numbers and confused every
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6was a worthwhile substitute. Here's my new family: my wife Bacardi Black, my grandfather Antiquity, my son Jack Daniel, his cousin Pabst. They love me, they keep me happy.
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2Don't understand what the symbols mean so should to take them to the embassy. Of China or Japan? Not a query I can get clarified without sounding racist. Weigh your options, boy,
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1rabbits the size of men. The rabbits were blind and therefore they were guided by men the size of rabbits hushing directions into their ears. Then the voices stopped, and the
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4But he had me strapped and I couldn't move and he widened his smile and began inching the finger puppet instrument closer and closer and under his breath, he was saying, "Say hello
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2my lunchbox instead. This one day, a cop pulled me over and started to interrogate me. His dog sniffed around the car and while we weren't looking, it found my stash and rolled
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3What people don't know about David Bowie is before he became a musician, he was hired as an assassin by Prince Charles. He killed at a fixed rate, and if you tried to bargain, he
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3Elvis to rock the service industry. After his fall from grace he had taken a job as a waiter and they expected him to rise through the ranks. Little did they know he'd cry in the
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5is a conference room in the middle of a desert where the real rulers of the world convene to chalk out their plans for us mortals. The diner was visible from where they sat. They
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2the bare breast of a girl whiter than an the colour itself. She straddled an elf, his buddies hid under a shelf, he was running out of breath, she was choking him to death. Nails
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6the otherwise simple and gratifying art of killing a poem. In my father's time, poems were killed with hammers and hacksaws, but today, we use more refined techniques like
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4to imprisonment on the planet Uranus where they spent the rest of their lives working as receptionists, answering service bell chimes at a tourist hotel, waiting for an happy end.
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2lit blunts on the funeral pyre, toked and sang. They partied all week, all weekend, all month, they partied till the end. But when the end arrived, their cocks did shrivel
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4his pencil thing mustache, not his pencil thin schlong. He adjusted his collar, popped and suckled on a mint and began walking toward his impending doom. He had no way of knowing