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The asthmatic fat kid lumbered to his least favorite class:"Studies in state-sponsored urban terrorism;" or as others called it "gym, with dodgeball."
Annie's character was like a fine French pastry; flaky on the outside, but full of wholesome goodness.
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The ailing and aged driver pondered stopping to investigate the bump and howl and determined that life could only be what one made of it.
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Abby really loved the phrase 'Three times', it seemed to roll so nicely off the tongue; unfortunately, since she was unable to find many reasons to use it in practical conversation, she was forced to take to mumbling it under her breath at odd intervals.
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As the hapless private stumbled over the top, he realized he'd been lying to the Sarge; he really did want to live forever.
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To put it simply, no matter how long it was, the true nature of Nathan could not be described in only one sentence.
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Mannie and his mojo idly surveyed the nightclub for the fresh talent, and then he desultorily imagined what the girls would seem like to a wolf-pack of sharks--the cute bartenders working like octopii, with their inky "work ethic" defensive cloud , there, a group of co-workers like a shoal of graceful dolphins (dangerous in their numbers), against the wall a pod of whales mournfully wailing their sad songs...but then he saw her, all alone at the end of the bar, a pretty young thing with tattoos, piercings, and a tattered Blind Faith tee, knocking back Tequila shots like she'd never had a Tequila hangover, she was the girlish equivalent to a wounded baby seal! Mannie gleefully glided in for the kill before the other sharks could scent blood in the water.
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The horrified fisherman's lantern struggled to expand his dimensional perspective and get a look at his costars.
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Annie, one long run-on sentence plus a short one is a story? The first sentence came to me in a dream, and I never argue with my dreams.
The hacker gathered all his resolve and spunk, and for the 4th time that night tried to explain fonts and icons to his well-meaning but clueless friend.
(I'm no hacker, but this happened to me tonight.)
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Bob had saved himself from himself on so many occassions that he felt he deserved some sort of award.
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Neal was the kind of guy who would drink Corona when he needed to sober up.
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He would fly of on an angry tangent at any opportunity, like that time we were all watching a movie, and he starts ranting about his girlfriend or something, and we all just want him to shut the **** up; I mean, who feels the need to do this all the goddamn time; it gets so old, always shouting away about the most minor goddamn thing, carrying an angry diatribe about everything that has ever happened to him, grow the **** up. Christ.
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Morbo never argued with his dreams, so when he dreamed he could fly, he bought the red tights and the cape and made his way onto the roof.
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Annie was a mouthful of grits on a sultry summer morning when the only sound was the roaches scuttling to and fro through the warped pane of the screen door.
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Morbo was a spoilsport in the worst sense of the word - you know, that sense involving botulism and cricket.
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When people talked about the "bright lights, big city" thing, Annie always wondered what all the fuss was about Billings.
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Morbo prided himself on always following the rules; his opponents often forgot that he made them up as he went along.
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Annie had eyes that glowed like the sparkling lights atop the Western Sugar factory in Billings, Montana.
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Beneath his sarcastic surface, Morbo was a really sweet guy. Sweet and sour, you might describe him.
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Rivka was the sort of person who thought this little interaction showed precisely why Hatrack was so much fun: escalating cross-thread reparte, followed quickly by sweet sentiments.
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Rivka would obviously never have a shot at an invitation to join the hallowed Curmudgeons' Club.
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Morbo's numerous sore spots posed a big problem for the doctor trying to diagnose his illness.
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Annie had eyes that glowed in the dark, under the floorboards, of the Western Sugar factory in Billings Montana.
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Flish would never forget the eyes he saw glowing in the dark under the floorboards of the old sugar factory his class toured, and he often embarrassed himself by whimpering about it to whomever would listen.
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