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Puffy Kombat: On the Boat
A motorcycle roared down the road, its riders red hair flapping about him in the wind. He was not alone, however, as a SUV bumped along the road in pursuit. He cursed under his breath, gliding along a curve. Can't these guys just leave me be? He scowled as the docks came into view.
C'mon, Bubbles. Rethink this. Harry sighed as he looked at the rest of the crowd. These guys look really dangerous.
Exactly. The blonde smiled, looking at her competition. No one can call me a fake after this.
Why do you care? Your movies are still successful.
People starting moving to get onto the boat. Time for me to go.
She spun around to face her manager. Hey, who am I?
Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. Bubbles, cute and lovable.
And I kick butt. She smiled, putting on her sunglasses.
Puffy Kombat: Invitations
Buttercup was nervous. There was no other way to describe the maunt as she walked through the halls of the Wu Shi Academy. She didn't doubt for a moment that trouble awaited her, as being called to the Grand Master's Chamber was such a rare occurrence. She wasn't exactly excited to see what it looked like and was trying to make it as slow as possible.
Of course, she eventually made to the room. Buttercup Utonium. The Grand Master called from inside the chamber. Enter.
The maunt gulped, walking through the door. You summoned me, Grand Master? she asked, noticing that the room was set up to accommodate all the masters at a table. All but one of the masters were in attendance.
I have, Sister Utonium. As I am sure you are aware, the time for the Tournament of Souls is fast approaching. The White Lotus Society wishes to regain control of it to honor our fallen ancestors and Master Bo Rai Cho has recommended that we send you to represent us in this y
LatreuophobiaI wash off sick-sweet orange lipstick in front of a mirror as dusty as gothic romances. It tastes like oblivion, that is to say, like nothing my tongue can detect.
The door opens with a creak no private restroom could emulate. Some chick with blue bobbed hair and smeared eyeliner. I looked like that once. Ten years ago.
Getting the beer out of my hair is harder. Some men just can't take it when I'd rather they not kiss my feet or call me an angel or-
“Dayum girl, you look like a goddess.”
I gulp, taste of acid.
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