Finished Folds (361—380)
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2walk in place. You may run or dash, but going somewhere, that's where you'll appreciate this, is no distinction from going nowhere. Wisdom is standing still somewhere and nowhere.
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5It was happy accident that two rival gangs of dance school rejects had agreed at that exact time and space to face off.They came popping and krumping to pose at the demarcation,yo.
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4n the poodle let loose of its opinion of the whole matter in great whooping gusts that culminated in me cackling and spraying the room with scatological canid wit.
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5mean? It came to him like thunder. "I shall invade Ukraine," he said. He finished his breakfast bibliomancy with an iron spoon and rode a bear bare-chested through the taiga.
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6He popped the hood, splayed the body of a virgin onto the engine, placing the primary organs in the location of the humours. Convoluted Latin tore itself from his voice. Any horror
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3The bastards from the South had come and gone. All we had to show for it was a funeral pyre adrift on an splenetic sea. We watched our matriarch of Horn and Ice sink, extinguished.
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4like a chef's confection,each chunk rare human meat in a pool of its juices breaking apart on a series of solitary floes into the maw of a mutant snoring polar bear. The crocodiles
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6to put a stop to this. The right hand was fingerwalking in enraged circles, even as lefty wrote of conjugal juices. No, he said. No, he cried, a hand forming fingerguns templeward.
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2great effect in convincing the population with his art of the moon landing's authenticity. A CIA ploy as any I've seen, she remarked while half-heartedly massaging events.
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3uristics inroads crossing a deep-boiling personal cosmology) to Legba and summoned Woland's old friend, Behemoth for a fanged gallop across the town's melusine moonbeam paths.
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4Betty's fingers traced Brownian motion along the Samoan's supple hide. Together they entered a honeyed mereotopology, at whose zenith Betty just didn't see the point of it at all.
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5My ride like a mecha, my hand inched tantalizingly along my thighs. Bosoms, mine, heaved. My lungs expired gasp after gasp. Musk-bound, I was consumed by an obliterating light.
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2flagrant types of le petit morte, administered by slick latex androgynoues seeping nonchalant violence. Outside, greasy pain dealers loitered, clutching illegal algogenies.
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5was who because they'd inadvertently swapped smiles and genitals around so that bits of everyone were bits on everyone else. When they returned home,their loved ones had difficulty
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5Suddenly dashing from under and above the surrounding environs were multitdes of Brony after Brony in full proudstanding plushie regalia. Typhon knew not what he was getting into.
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4it fidgeted right back. He paused, unsure, before experimentally fingering his cleft. A definite response! His heart fluttered. It wasn't long before he was attracting stares.
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2Eleanor. It would enthrall him even as it damned him. He set to work, perforating the tree with an ice pick until the oil flowed freely into the sentient sponges he'd arrayed
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4Hallelujahs and Ave Marias. At nights when the rectory locked its doors they slid out into the neon spattered streets to hawk their wares. They promised chrome dreams and stainless
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4toilet flung from a disintegrating space station onto the skull of an unsuspecting teenager at the prime of her life, thus causing her to into the ranks of undead soul reapers.
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3His belly strained against his orange jumpsuit, lips glistening with grease.Tears caught,sparkled in his beard."I wanted to die on my own terms."That heart attack just didn't come.