Complete the Story!

Pre-College Topics High School Life
81

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I</p>

82

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with</p>

83

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and</p>

84

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

85

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

<p>Part 4
“Gobble Gobble”</p>

86

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

<p>Part 4
“Gobble Gobble” this is all I hear</p>

87

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

<p>Part 4
“Gobble Gobble” this is all I hear when rocks rap to me</p>

88

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

<p>Part 4
“Gobble Gobble” this is all I hear when rocks rap to me. Yo gobble mobble gobble lobble fobble.</p>

89

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

<p>Part 4
“Gobble Gobble” this is all I hear when rocks rap to me. Yo gobble mobble gobble lobble fobble. Just then, a friend of mine sneaks up from behind and scrolls my iPod to full volume. AHH! I screamed and that was the last of sounds I have ever heard. Alas, my eardrums had popped, and I am deaf.</p>

90

<p>“Gobble Gobble” this is all I hear when rocks rap to me. Yo gobble mobble gobble lobble fobble. Just then, a friend of mine sneaks up from behind and scrolls my iPod to full volume. AHH! I screamed and that was the last of sounds I have ever heard. Alas, my eardrums had popped, and I am deaf. So I can say no more. The end.</p>

91

<p>Part Five:</p>

<p>Today is my first day in Vault 101</p>

92

<p>Part Five:</p>

<p>Today is my first day in Vault 101. I wish my skin weren’t translucent</p>

93

<p>Part Five:</p>

<p>Today is my first day in Vault 101. I wish my skin weren’t translucent. The end.</p>

94

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

<p>Part 4
“Gobble Gobble” this is all I hear when rocks rap to me. Yo gobble mobble gobble lobble fobble. Just then, a friend of mine sneaks up from behind and scrolls my iPod to full volume. AHH! I screamed and that was the last of sounds I have ever heard. Alas, my eardrums had popped, and I am deaf. So I can say no more. The end.</p>

<p>Part Five:
Today is my first day in Vault 101. I wish my skin weren’t translucent. The end.</p>

<p>Part Six:
Old McDonald</p>

95

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

<p>Part 4
“Gobble Gobble” this is all I hear when rocks rap to me. Yo gobble mobble gobble lobble fobble. Just then, a friend of mine sneaks up from behind and scrolls my iPod to full volume. AHH! I screamed and that was the last of sounds I have ever heard. Alas, my eardrums had popped, and I am deaf. So I can say no more. The end.</p>

<p>Part Five:
Today is my first day in Vault 101. I wish my skin weren’t translucent. The end.</p>

<p>Part Six:
Old McDonald had a farm. But in 1932, he lost that farm due to the Great Depression. Franklin Delano Roosevelt</p>

96

<p>Part Six:
Old McDonald had a farm. But in 1932, he lost that farm due to the Great Depression. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, being old kindergarten buddies with McDonald, felt pity and decided to promote him to the office seat of Head of Agriculture.</p>

97

<p>Part Six:
Old McDonald had a farm. But in 1932, he lost that farm due to the Great Depression. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, being old kindergarten buddies with McDonald, felt pity and decided to promote him to the office seat of Head of Agriculture. Old McDonald then went on to abuse the power in his new position to establish a worldwide chain of food, which would come to be known by his name, McDonalds.</p>

98

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

<p>Part 4
“Gobble Gobble” this is all I hear when rocks rap to me. Yo gobble mobble gobble lobble fobble. Just then, a friend of mine sneaks up from behind and scrolls my iPod to full volume. AHH! I screamed and that was the last of sounds I have ever heard. Alas, my eardrums had popped, and I am deaf. So I can say no more. The end.</p>

<p>Part Five:
Today is my first day in Vault 101. I wish my skin weren’t translucent. The end.</p>

<p>Part Six:
Old McDonald had a farm. But in 1932, he lost that farm due to the Great Depression. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, being old kindergarten buddies with McDonald, felt pity and decided to promote him to the office seat of Head of Agriculture. Old McDonald then went on to abuse the power in his new position to establish a worldwide chain of food, which would come to be known by his name, McDonalds. Burger King got jealous and</p>

99

<p>Part 1</p>

<p>I like men because I can’t find a girl that can withstand my dislike of boobies. My intense mammary phobia led to the gruesome deaths of my parents by strangulation. An Elmo puppet was used to strangle both my parents in, they died within 8 hours. Apparently, people couldn’t stand my radical views. I now have to live with my mutant Communist. The end.</p>

<p>Part 2</p>

<p>I like the SAT Blue Book more than fingernails on a chalkboard. It also beats watching paint dry…occasionally. At times I feel like my life is a standardized test so I do it. Other times, I actually enjoy doing the tests and feel like I am in SAT heaven. Then I wake up…from my nightmare screaming, "Holy ****, I’m a turkey. “Ah crap,” I think, Thanksgiving is Thursday. Everyone should eat mor chikin. Then I realized that I am not really a turkey, but a Blue book lover. All Thanksgiving means now is that I have to waste time eating food at a dinner table instead of spending time with my lovely SAT blue book. Just for the record, to all, I’m delusional and completely insane. And that’s why I love Russell Peters wit a passion. I love him so much that I’ll eat his specially made recipe for hickory smoked elephant labia majora (sliced into thin strips). But then I realize that Russell Peters is no cook and watch Outsourced for the 500^500! time. I spent the rest of the day, saying “Be a man. Do the right thing. Gobble Gobble.”</p>

<p>Part 3</p>

<p>I hate slow internet speed that I will disregard what others shout, “Gobble Gobble!” I hate turkeys, which is why I like to put fruity pebbles in my butt while singing opera. Although this is true, many little people enjoy eating them rather than putting them in their butt. Why? It’s because they don’t have strange, freudian thoughts about putting stuff up their butt. Evidently, they must taste nice too, since I can’t make a perfect smore. I wish pineapples were easier to hide because, unlike the fruity pebbles, pinapples hurt to shove up my butt…too spikey. I also like to talk in run on sentences. They’re muy bueno. Como unas salchichas en mi butt. Me gusta comer mi chaqueta, porque yo soy tonto. Tambien me gusta comer gatos y perros, pero solo cuando estan vivido. Las muertas chupan. Chupan como una chica me chupa. Then I realized I don’t speak Spanish. I can actually speak Chinese. Ni hao ma? Ni shi huan ji ji ? And then I realized I don’t speak that either… All I speak is English. I hate God. Why won’t he come? He never answers any of my questions about if I will get into Harvard. Harvard is my life, y’know. I’ve wanted to go since I was one and a half. Of course, I also started playing the piano and doing research at 3. I realized then that I also needed athletics to truly have breadth and depth, so I started fencing at 4. The lack of motor skills was a problem at first though. I accidently cut my head off with a butcher knife, and then I had to replace it with a giraffe’s head. Having a giraffe’s head, though, didn’t prove it self to be so bad. It gives me a unique characteristi in admissions. My essays are all going to focus around how I mocked and how I overcame it. But sadly, I became overcome with depression and started doing your mom’s dirty laundry, if you know what I mean (wink). After I went to the hospital and found out I had AIDS so I jumped for joy! I decided to spread this joyous blessing with Harvard because I can show myself to be more unique. I called and they said I was an utter failure. So I committed suicide and died happily ever after. The End.</p>

<p>Part 4
“Gobble Gobble” this is all I hear when rocks rap to me. Yo gobble mobble gobble lobble fobble. Just then, a friend of mine sneaks up from behind and scrolls my iPod to full volume. AHH! I screamed and that was the last of sounds I have ever heard. Alas, my eardrums had popped, and I am deaf. So I can say no more. The end.</p>

<p>Part Five:
Today is my first day in Vault 101. I wish my skin weren’t translucent. The end.</p>

<p>Part Six:
Old McDonald had a farm. But in 1932, he lost that farm due to the Great Depression. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, being old kindergarten buddies with McDonald, felt pity and decided to promote him to the office seat of Head of Agriculture. Old McDonald then went on to abuse the power in his new position to establish a worldwide chain of food, which would come to be known by his name, McDonalds. Burger King got jealous and decided to beat up Old McDonald for coming up with crappy food that everyone loves. Of course, Wendy</p>

100

<p>Old McDonald had a farm. But in 1932, he lost that farm due to the Great Depression. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, being old kindergarten buddies with McDonald, felt pity and decided to promote him to the office seat of Head of Agriculture. Old McDonald then went on to abuse the power in his new position to establish a worldwide chain of food, which would come to be known by his name, McDonalds. Burger King got jealous and decided to beat up Old McDonald for coming up with crappy food that everyone loves. Of course, Wendy’s solution was to whore herself out in order to get ahead.</p>