Finished Folds (861—880)
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0Upon regaining her senses, Karma sobbed and scooped placenta into her purse before placinging the dying fetus in the makeshift womb. They would be avenged, at any price, she swore
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6hastily, indeed -- and my impatience would prove my undoing. "Lieutenant Mayonnaise," I shouted as the assault began in earnest. There was no reply. "Mayonnaise?" "He's not here,
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8and began to flake from her dancing body. A pack of wild dogs threaded between the revelers and fought for the tasty bits of her marshmallow detritus. She screamed when the leader
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6I took another slug. Yeah, Amontillo. Like Amontillado, but cheaper. Probably cut with lighter fluid. I downed the rest of the bottle and tossed it into the Beast's pit, ready for
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2the chain caught a knot and bucked, sending the blade into his forehead. The cheering crescendoed as his two halves fell asunder. When a custodian discovered his suffocated wife
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716. It was six hours already and I hadn't gotten anywhere; in a fit of frustration I threw the book into the fireplace. I unzipped my panda suit and stepped into the hot tub. If
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1Now, careful reader, you may ask how it was possible for me to be both a "Bicardi Model" and a "rich ugly man" simultaneously. We must return to the moral beginning of this saga
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6Behind them, a heavy wooden door squeaked. They turned and saw a hand beckoning them in. "Quick," Pastor Montoya instructed, "you'll be safe in here." Once inside, the pastor
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3by having their vocal cords surgically removed and placed into mason jars filled with formaldehyde. To raise funds, the monks sold these "mystical relics" on eBay. In six mere
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4an encrypted description of the route to the Magical Golden Ukelele. It required every imaginable mode of transportation, from hovercraft to camel. "If you find the MGU, beware, as
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5unexpectedly that I didn't have time to set down my cafe mocha mint. It spilled all over Sergeant Boogle's manuscript. He dropped his rifle and fell to his knees. "It was my only
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4the cast lost their dramatic timing and the production of Mamet's stage interpretation of Apocalypse Now! was ruined. The flying demons spread out across the darkening sky, forming
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4-- I rolled the page out of the typewriter and added it to the stack. My dissertation was finished! I would break for the weekend and get loaded at Last Chance, but then it was
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4had legal problems out the ying-yang, and Miss Cleo's constant defensiveness was beginning to be seen as a ploy. On Tue., Mar. 15, Miss Cleo vanished from her Beverly Hills
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3of federal budgets was the were-tiger's dream. I liked my coffee like I liked my women: liquid, and in a cup. The falling Splenda dotted my hair like dandruff. We got down to brass
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4fall under the spell of the Dark One. "You see," he began, "all you have to do is smile and strike up a conversation." He wiggled a come-hitherly finger, and an attractive intern
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2of sewage spewing from the sink. In a pathetic attempt to placate the miserable tourist, I balanced a hard-boiled egg in the fountain. My infant laughed and flung tapioca which hit
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2over Stockholm at 3 a.m., through dark alleys, looking for an angry fix. Hawking (or Hawkens, when he was dealing) had become unreliable since accepting M-theory as his personal
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4Stephanopolous could hardly push over a toddler on a tricycle. Not that he didn't try. But George had connections back in Athens, and a gyro to The Crow was like spinach to Popeye.
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3couldn't dismiss in that Ivy League, Wall Street manner of his. I asked my BFF, Blurn, who mixed at a posh nightclub in SoMa. "Anything -- if you dose it with this." The tiny vial