Finished Folds (1—20)
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1Lukewarm orange juice. Two burnt eggs, stale coffee, cold oatmeal. It was a perfectly ruined breakfast. That's why Pat ordered it. He wanted to have a miserable start for the week.
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3membrane oscillated wildly. But eventually I found a way to continue the countdown by using binary numbers, and plowed ahead to negative numbers. As I kept counting, abrubtly a rat
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4poster that hung in his office. The giant image was the only that reminded him of his illustrious career in skintight pants on stage. Oh, and his skintight pants, too.
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4the parasites that had bothered my intestines for years. Bobbing in the south seas on the driftwood log was a breeze compared to my normal routine of inspecting uranium cargo ships
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1highway 61 actually takes you to Mulholland drive, if you drive over all three I-405 overpasses. But trying to do that in the night, by foot was a mistake. Instead I ended up in
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3nd bobsledding in the Alps. The week in St. Moritz went fine until I broke my legs on the moguls on the last day - a golden eagle swooped down and grabbed the nose of my board.
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1Soon the pus from the boils was cascading down his sides. In a few minutes it had filled the car so high that the goo started to pour out of the open windows. Traffic jam got worse
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4Gangrene had left Clementine with a limp. Well actually two limps - one to the left, one to the right. These rare double limps cancelled each other out. She seemed to glide.
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3and loaded them aboard the hot-air balloon. All of the cast was going that afternoon on a sunset ride. Jacob thought the motivational films on VHS were exceptionally potent ballast
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3I decided to do something more constructive with all the statues. I pulverized every single statue and used the marble, bronze and granite powder to build a concrete computer room.
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3to others. Turning vapor trails in the sky into sentences was much more attractive to me. Only problem is, that the punctuation is basically non-existent. I didn't care.
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3s what mating grouses do. I was in for an all-out assault by the frisky grouse. The camera captured it all. So, that my son, is the reason I now only have one eye.
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3g. Guiding the remote controlled missile to its target was difficult enough, the distraction of the tongue bump made it practically impossible. I bungled the assassination attempt.
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3decided to entertain herself in the cell with the tambourine she had smuggled in. Other inmates joined in a wild dance, all in their native Kurdish or Persian styles. The guard
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4That made me incredibly happy. First, I had never heard my father belch before. Second, understanding the reason of my short stature made me free to join the traveling circus.
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8- at Jim Morrison's grave. Here all other obnoxiously loud and drunk American tourists spend their afternoons. So here he landed. His appearance startled the sobbing art students.
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5It all started when I found my grandfather's old passport. There were stamps from Japan, Nigeria and Bolivia. And all in the 1920s. What was he doing there? And why the pinecones?
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7get. That's when I decided to bolt. I tightened my collar, licked my fur clean from all the dust, adjusted my tail and ran like a lightning between Ted's legs. Jackie calligraphed
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4was almost like any other seal. Shiny fur, long whiskers and sharp teeth. Only the big gash on her back reminded her of the jetski accident.
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5But flesh he cut. And he cut a lot. The end result looked more like a a carpaccio dish than a human being. But Dr. Emgud liked what he created.