Finished Folds (1—16)
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2into some canned tuna. I always had some of that buried in the pantry. By the time week three rolled around, though, I was in deep shit.
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1on the porch and watched the pickup trucks drive wearily on. They didn't even stop anymore, the way they used to when
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0thump his leg like a dog does when being scratched on the belly. Why was that so wrong? It wasn't even as bad as wanting
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2swell and pus a little bit. You could see it from outside his shirt. He was embarrassed, but even more worried about
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1grab tissues to stick up his nose. God forbid the pollen get up in there. He wasn't even that worried about it. He had
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1an entire pot spilled and he spent the afternoon running in circles trying desperately to catch his own tail. Meanwhile,
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1an ashtray of dead cigarettes that she found lying on the table. The howling gusts blew in while
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2warmer. I started to take off all my clothes until I realized underneath my t-shirt I was still wearing
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1With the beast on the floor in front of her, she crawled toward the hot oven. As she tried to stand
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2Unforseen lake. While humming a ditty, my bike toppled into the sludge - a muddy mix of city matter. Utterly soaked, an
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1it was the double double animal style he had before the game. If he moved an inch he was bound to
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2"Have excess bodily fluids? Donate to the Red Cross!" she reads over the PA system during homeroom. I pause, then
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0when asked what they want to do to give back to society they just respond, "Yo motha." That's so
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2something that had just crawled out from under the refrigerator. Ew, whatever. I grabbed it and ran to the
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2his warm, moist pocket. Fumbling around in there he found two pennies. He took them to a pond and made a wish. He wished, "
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3I really hope not, I'm more of a Lab guy, and not in the beakers and Bunsen burner sense. That reminds me, this one time