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    The Stinky Cheese Man & Other Fairly Stupid Tales by Jon Scieszka Once upon a time there was a story called "The Gingerbread Man" and a little girl who loved to hear the story every night at bedtime. Each night at bedtime, the little girl's kind father would tell the story to his little girl. He knew how much his daughter loved the story and so he was happy to tell the story over and over and over again, well ... almost. One night when the dad, whose name was Jon, was asked for the fifty gazillionth

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    This comes from a fearful man in course grey with a great iron on his leg. The man grabs at Pip and asks for his name. “Tell us your name!” Said the man “Quick!” “Pip sir” Once more said the man stirring at me “Give it mouth!” “Pip sir Pip” the man asked to see where Pip lives and Pip had know chance but to tell the unknown man. The man turned Pip upside down and emptied his pockets. Nothing was in them apart from a piece of bread and after this the man asked about Pip family. Pip

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    first job as a Saint would be his undoing. The initiation was nothing, despite the fact his cuts and bruises still hurt and each step he took was almost too painful to bear. Without any training or explanation, he was handed a gun and told to go kill a man who worked in a Sloppy Seconds. The gun felt like it weighed a hundred pounds tucked into the waistband of Jecca’s pants, and the cold metal perfectly matched the temperature of his blood as it ran through his veins. This was the one aspect of joining

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    Chapter One Smee...

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    Seamus McAlister Eamon Ellery of Dublin was always a peculiar man. Often the townsfolk would say, if any unusual happenings occurred, it was because (Smee as they called him) was the one doing them. He was illiterate and lacked education but owned several books, from Burney to Xueqin; insisting he felt smarter when he held one. His favorites being The Vicar of Wakefeild by Olivar Goldsmith and The Nun by Denis Diderot. In truth, if ignorance were bliss, he was the happiest of men. Smee was a

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    dust engulfed me like a giant dustbowl. When the dust had cleared there were no signs of the coach or the driver anywhere, I shrugged my shoulders and carried on walking. I was looking for a ranch. In the village where I started from an old man had said "jus' carry on goin up this road an you'll come across an

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    them up and carried them in a big basket back to their house. While Manku the Arms was squeezing the juice out of the apples to make apple jelly, Manku the Eyes ran in. He had been sitting on a wall watching a pimple on the beak of a bird on the other side of the valley. He noticed something terribly wrong in a small village a few miles "I've been watching a village where all the people are crying. There are grown-ups and little boys, but I could not see any little girls at "Then we must go

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    Off To See The Wizard

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    and one sounded strangely familiar. It sent shivers through my spine. “So you brought him eh”, a man with a deep voice said. “Yes, just as you requested”, another man replied. “Ah... Excellent”, the other man said. “Now, where are my promised goods?” I opened my eyes and had sight of them for the first time. Although I couldn't see clearly, I could see that one was wearing a mask and the other was tall and wearing black robes. Then it hit me. By Orthrus, it's him! What's he doing here! He was

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    extremely graceful man. Coming from Russia, a land infamous not only for the mystery and treacherous terrain, but also it’s stereotypical form of entertainment, ballets. Over six feet tall, this goliath could be surprisingly stealthy, leaving world conferences when they became too tedious for his liking, sneaking up behind his prey (America, for the hell of it) and various other grievances that the nations complained of. Except, sometimes one could not help but stare at such a beautiful man. Yes, beautiful

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    Short Story on Peace

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    there was no homelessness, food was abundant, and no such things as rich or poor existed. Ten years after assuming the throne, a stranger came, garbed in outlandish clothes, and tried to steal the Serpents Tear. He was stopped and executed. Many others tried to take the Serpents Tear, and they all failed. Those in the palace were confused. The Serpents Tear kept everything safe. Why would someone want to steal it? Security had been increased on the royal family, in case any of them were kidnapped

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    Bullet in the Brain

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    dispatched almost everything he reviewed. With the line still doubled around the rope, one of the tellers stuck a “POSITION CLOSED” sign in her window and walked to the back of the bank, where she leaned against a desk and began to pass the time with a man shuffling papers. The women in front of Anders broke off their conversation and watched the teller with hatred. “Oh, that’s nice,” one of them said. She turned to Anders and added, confident of his accord, “one of those little human touches that keep

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