Finished Folds (821—840)
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2who were sharpening their Ginsu knives. "That was close," the mango said with a sigh of relief. "Yeah, wasn't it?" replied his BFF, her face darkening. She drew a filet knife from
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5"Aye," greeted the old proprietor, a salty type with patches over both eyes. "What'll ya be havin'?" He dried an ornate stein with a towel before tossing it in the air behind him.
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6"It's my chest." "No, dat ting dere." "Oh. A tattoo." "Yes, but vat ist dis tattoo." "I dunno." He rolled his massive head and his majestic hair seemed to take on a separate life.
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6public education policy is the goal of every vulture capitalist. Why couldn't he accept that? My ex wouldn't stop calling, and I was getting annoyed. I had Yahoo! to run and a new
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8all they ever do is sneak up and bludgeon one another with bizarre tractor engine parts or crouch behind the silo and sniff spraypaint -- none of the twits dressed as ninja, and
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3llocks easily since his bollocks smelled of hashish. The river was a few hundred yards off, too far to drag a 400 lbs. man. Gasoline. Incineration was the solution. Needing a tube,
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5young mistress. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry ma'am!" he apologized, reaching over to help her. The Colonel intervened, striking Private Witless in the groin with a small sack of russets.
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4apply lipstick to salve the wound. "It works better than Carmex or Vaseline. It's medical fact!" Mom was skeptical, but let it slide. It was the following Friday she caught him
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3for air support. This was a completely different Vietnam than John McCain remembered. "We should have pulled funding for PBS entirely!" he shouted before storming out of his
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4is just an analogy. See?" Chuck narrowed his eyes. "For what?" The psychoanalyst swallowed. This one was smarter than most. He stood and looked at his certificate. "Let's talk
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1nurses would turn Tom around. "Would you wike a widdle snacky, Tommy?" Nurse Krackit would tease while waving smoked salmon before him; when he reached, she struck him upside the
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1the Columbine Clown. And I've come to shoot the village down." The horrified woman froze, frowned, and reached behind the door for a sawed-off bazooka. The cigar slipped from my
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2had his own literary ambitions. He stocked up on scotch, bourbon, and Irish whisky (variety does wonders for range) and locked himself in his cheap Tulsa rental. After one year,
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3Then the sound of one clap clapping. Then a fractal applause feedback loop which measured 8.2 on Richter and rubbled the Sydney Opera House. A tuxedoed attendee brushed off some
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4-hopped during college for drinking money. I convinced my co-workers to assist in a scam to extract, not just one kidney, but both (and the liver to boot) from my roommate. "But
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3the Clown Syndicate, who was looking to expand beyond krokodil into military arms and the transsexual slave trade. "Meat Slap a Clown," Honcho declared, "is the perfect front for
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1A week later, he regretted his premature gloating. Human civilization, he was informed, had self-annihilated. The astronaut cried as he looked at images of the historic landmarks,
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5celebrities: Farmer Zano; Superhorse; Elmo, the Tractor That Could. The State Fair Committee was agog over the event. "Everybody loves a good mud wrestle." The Lieu. Governor,
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4are your kneecaps!" "A crap has just taken you!" His happiness was seemingly impenetrable; it would take her weeks to realize that the source of his joy was her French accent. Once
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4I instructed, pointing towards the Eternal Sleeper VII Deluxe. "And don't scratch the finish!" Stein nodded, and cautiously settled himself inside the coffin. "That's good," I