Finished Folds (321—340)
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3survived the Gobi by eating decaying flesh. I subsisted on my own excrement in a filthy Cambodian jail. All this time, I had not tasted hummus. Would it cancel itself out? I dipped
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5Within the flock was a lone platypus, Lord Almighty bless its over-taxed heart, flapping for all it was worth with the meager supply of shit-stuck duck feathers lining its arms.
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1t he himself wanted. Thus rainbowed the paradox. The Leprechaun vocally wanted re-branding, secretly wishing security in brand loyalty. He had a marshmallow of a time trian
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3Bonham Carter), prissily baking human pies while returning blaster fire with the parabolic tin skull of R2-D2 (formerly played by Helena
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3found themselves unceremoniously sampling melano and its amalgamation of weird tastes. Several studio executives were speared through the heart with horns rich in dietary fiber.
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4liqueur.His wife woke up and saw dang Dong Doer clutching unreal Ring Dings in his sleep. She sent him from a prone position to a ninety-degree angle with a well placed fist to the
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4what is perfection but an unattainable ideal? All, even a beautiful blonde woman, is a shadow seen on a cave wall. The sun, who creates shadows, realized this and surrendered envy.
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3succumbed,disseminating,fricasseeing, skewering, twisting, pulverizing, pulping, beating, stretching, distorting the contents of the pages 79 until a strange code filled all walls.
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3The young maestro was galvanized.His fingers moved of their own volition.The ebony violin glistened, quivering the air with torturous beauty. Later all in the room were found dead.
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5w with an obscenity riddled tirade which, with FCC censorship, was rendered nearly unintelligible. He, not John Oliver, abruptly died. The manuscript, the original, with notes scra
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5It was as if there was a force underlying the universe dedicated to interfering with my productivity. I sighed and tried to return my attention to the task at hand.
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5It hung in an unknown gallery, quietly absorbing bohemian stares and stale exhalations from the stuffy atmosphere. An black market art dealer visited one day and recognized its
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4When the professor awoke, she it was now raining miniature unicorns. They frolicked all over her prostate form and she didn't move in fear of crushing these creatures.
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3The Insect Lord sent the infestation of cockroaches careening into the next house. The night preened in swamp gas, the hypopnea of slumped trees a gentle rustling in the moonlight.
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6so they, buoyed by this success, introduced the Alabama Hot Pocket as an entree. Eventually Blumenthal found himself staffless; they all had gone to open an eatery. Their desserts
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2loads of junkies.We Sixtyniners practiced our art in the slurping darkness of our bedrooms, faces pressed in obeisance to the very organs of our origin. Here was the true religion.
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4spicing up the relationship.He dusted off the 3D printer and selected "Tentacle Monster."Waiting for the Avatar to form,he considered the implications of cheating on her with her.
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5He was like a pale clown who'd wandered in from the roaring twenties, as at odds with his environment as he was the folds and laces and snaps of his antiquated wardrobe. He strutte
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7And please don't ask me about Joseph and the sheep. All I can say it was like the 90's all over except not on your screensaver, and God saw it was good.
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8face in the marinara, feeling not one, not two, but a multitude of noodly appendages caress the contours of my face, easing into my mouth. Holy Transubstantiation of Durum!