Finished Folds (481—500)
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5when he conspires with members of the WTO. "Am I just a front-man?" he silently wonders. Residual Catholic guilt slowly eats at his Irish liver. "Pork rinds," Bono whispers to
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7demanded a refund for my undelivered Amazon packages. The glowing eyes of the sexless presence grew perplexed, then enraged. "Why did you wait until the last second to order?!?"
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5Marc, the little brat, was himself a grue, but he wasn't bright enough to realize it. We were all, in fact, grues. It was our lot, for better or worse, to lurk. And lurk we did.
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1films projected on three screens behind him. Eraserhead. Daisies. E.T. Well, E.T. wasn't as strange as it was cloying. The dog began to bark backwards. The fort at Meon Hill slowly
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6lasers which annihilated the terrestrial atmosphere. Life was extinguished save for simple aquatic organisms. Ten thousand millennia later, the first of the new land animals
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2s secretary, a notorious lush, was exasperated by the booze moratorium. She dropped to her knees before the albino Prime Minister, but she was unmoved. "Get a hold of yourself,"
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6Far away. Far Away, the liquor store a block and half south. She could pick them up a bottle of 100 proof whatever and they could fortify in the basement and play Xbox for the rest
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6she had responded I couldn't have known. "LucieLucie!" I repeated to the swarm of rhombuses (or rhombi, in the Latin) shimmering at the horizon of my failing vision. Suddenly, the
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5overwhelmed me, and I passed out. When I came to, I was in a dark, enclosed space which smelled of rubber and petroleum. My head struck the underside of the trunk when the BMW hit
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5for a living: plumbing. The shame of a mom who brought home the bacon in a male-dominated trade led Ted to inhale white-out daily. Eventually, he lost a kidney from suppressing
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4I soon understood why. Gunther von Hagens, who had overseen the construction of my dopplecadaver, had devised a dead moi with an improved physique, a better rack, tighter buns.
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2shuddered at what that implied: grafitti is the gateway medium to art school. Inspired with righteous practical indignation, she embarked on a crusade to eliminate art supplies
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6today mostly consist of weapons, ammunition, military rations. Sometimes sub-zero attire. Now that annual world wars have supplanted the Super Bowl, the advertising industry has
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5But being Chosen is not necessarily a blessing as the actual recipient of the title would soon find out. She gained 300 lbs. in six weeks, lost her family and job, aged rapidly,
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5hours later and I had cooked Greenwich Village to a crisp. It was immediately converted to a penal colony. I, Snake, master chef, had to find a way out. But 3 Japanese shefu were
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3studies courses in grade school? But I had been too smart for the preacher. "In Sweden, they teach bank robbing at 4 years. They are good at it. Seems 'natural'." I was suspended
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4-enhanced contortionist with a penchant for the unusual. The natives chased the couple from the island, brandishing the decapitated heads of prior fornicators on bouncing pikes.
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3I am a sick man. I am an angry man. I am a ridiculous man. I am a non-descript man. I am a superfluous man. I am a forgotten man. I am a distraught man. I am not a man at all. But
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6But then California, in its infinite wisdom, decided to ban the condiment. "Dammit, now I'll never know," he cursed. His Sriracha bottle was empty. There was no more to be found.
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5not to mention a number of assassination attempts by the emerging Luddite Resistance. But their slingshot pellets only grazed Quentin's skin and the blowgun darts merely stuck in