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under pressure, but not that cool. "JESUS CHRIST, JUST STOP YELLING! CAN'T YOU ALL JUST STOP YELLING ALREADY!" -
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middle-aged underachievers." Mr Softee hung his beautiful foam rubber head in a crude semblance of shame. "I only wanted to
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leaned forward, planted a chaste kiss on his son's forehead, and left the room. The next morning, when the boy would awake, he'd remember only the queer smell of aftershave.
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is a pretty kid, though, you have to admit. So here's what we're going to do," she said. "Why don't *you* buy things from my family. My daughter's obviously the least pricey, so
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Siamese twins. Look down there by your thigh. See what it connects to? My thigh! But don't worry: I've read all about this. We'll probably come up with a private language soon, and
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never go through chemotherapy again, but who was he kidding. He had his wife and kids to think about. His wife and kids who love watching him go through chemotherapy.
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themselves. Mollie said we couldn't call it Clue anymore, but I said we *had* to call it Clue because that's what it says on the box! And I won that argument because she was dead.
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he rolled up his sleeves and got to work. "Bobbi Barker, I think this may all work out after all." A gasp from the crowd. He looked out into the audience and