Finished Folds (101—120)
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3into his leather fisticuffs apparatus. Dawkins gnawed at the strings, waiting for the bell. "Land one, set the tone. DEATH OR GLORY!" The bell rang. Dawkins sauntered into fate.
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3boysenberry syrup chugging. "Where is everybody?" he asked, coming up for air. "Hey," I said, "let's keep warm until they get here." He smiled crookedly, lowering
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4Bobby, armed with all the standard mob tools, checked his word of the day calendar. In a twist of fate, the word was temerity. "Confidence level 9," he muttered, spying Martin
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6she cried louder. Surely, a gallant Michelin executive would totter on by to inquire as to the nature of the deceased, and just maybe her "discovery" would lead to
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5That meant "Hey guys, I'm new in town and would like to befriend fellow half-breeds. My name's Sandeep. So...anyone doing some black ops lately?" Their nostrils flared. I was in.
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5a courtesy message to remind you that we value your patronage. All of our representatives are currently busy helping other customers. Your estimate wait time is - " I slammed the
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1nous Abercrombie models. Newton stretched his arm, feeling his shoulder drop out of socket as he reached for the watch as potato chunks whipped his face. To be concluded...now.
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3and cricket gambling. After the Burmese bowler drew agricultural shots from consecutive batsmen, the captain issued a declaration resulting in contrived circumstances, whatever
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6with pickle dust. Next, added braunschweiger for texture and fat. This drew the invisible dogs away from the dark and over to our laser field, in order to ascertain their shapes
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6I suppose this made sense, as that fold ended with my possessions being blasted into space by fictional characters, and dung beetles being served at my funeral. The apology ended
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4remained a mystery, the origins of Goat Club and its cryptic prophecies. John waited for the right moment of the meeting to stand up and deliver his scathing repudiation of the
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2citation at his hip pocket. BOOM! The collision knocked him over and withdrew $10 from his wallet, which the maid drone yanked back. I turned to my friend and said, "Lovely, Rita."
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2Tune in next week, when I bond with a man infamous for a similar fate in the episode, "My Dinner With Hamlet."
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4d of a sex type thing with a dead & bloated, sour girl on a plush bed, situated in a wicked garden. She woke in a cold sweat. What a creep of a dream. She reached for the vasoline,
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2the former first person in line noticed. Fortunately, I hushed him with an old sock. Unfortunately, it hushed him permanently. Fortunately, he was unfortunately kind of a jerk.
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2and buried artifacts found using cryptic clues, and lost, mythical islands dredged up from the bottom of the sea. Your qualifications are beneath you. Just embrace my needs.
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2So that sucked. I thought I knew them better, Fred and Margie. Where did they find the time to picket funerals in states they'd never been? Although I disagree with their polictics
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3look up that word on Google Translate because he'd never read a Marvel comic from 1963 through 1995. Alas! Holmes's evil twin had used all the data from their shared plan. Blast!
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4The cloud sucked in, the mouse fell down. Hickory dickory nuclear holocaust.
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2passed through mammalian life forms before being deposited in his home. Mr. Sandman's only weapon against the mad dumper was filtration. They met in battle at the drainage field to