The Three Word Game-Revised and Edited
[QUOTE=jopperm2]There are a few in the photo album. All are scrumptious. [/QUOTE]Well, I checked 'em out and I can now put a face to my desi... to my dear friend Brynn You look good, Brynn, how old are you
Oh, did I mention I'm currently in a dilemna? I just found out that WR was a teacher...
[/QUOTE]Well, I checked 'em out and I can now put a face to my desi... to my dear friend Brynn You look good, Brynn, how old are you Oh, did I mention I'm currently in a dilemna? I just found out that WR was a teacher...
Silent.
[QUOTE=oozae]Well, I checked 'em out and I can now put a face to my desi... to my dear friend Brynn You look good, Brynn, how old are you
[/QUOTE]
ROFL 25.
[Quote=Oozit]Oh, did I mention I'm currently in a dilemna? I just found out that WR was a teacher... [/Quote]
What's wrong with that?
You look good, Brynn, how old are you [/QUOTE]
ROFL
25. [Quote=Oozit]Oh, did I mention I'm currently in a dilemna? I just found out that WR was a teacher... [/Quote]
What's wrong with that?
Up the IRONS!
Per request of Brynn at the reward of a picture. ( @Brynn , *hug* )
The following passage starts with a lot of confusion and then picks up right after Shakespeare's famous quote.
As the famous Shakespeare once wrote: "Precious stone burns into ashes like CM's Duckie, but not like Zenemij's grammatic innacuracy".
"I can't spell well", said the walrus to the carpenter, who loved singing so much that his lungs were exhausted, because he sang his entire life since the death of his bunny. That lovely animal was his only friend during his childhood which he spent living on a beach in Florida. He's been a carpenter and made boats for animals like the rubber duck that DW stole.
And others covet the highly praised and exalted object, that is currently a property of the foundation for little satanic bunnies with financial problems. Ever since this organization slacked big time, and got ripped off by the government. One of the occured problems was the lack of money. So the workers decided on no more wages for two Satanic work men, because they didn't write three words in little green letters on the blackboard.
Next month Brynn will take her bf to Disneyland© Paris to show him Mickey Mouse and poke Donald on the rear end, so they could photograph his beak and his fluffy tail, as Goofy killed everything in it's close environment. Donald quickly ran away and found out that Dolly was having a nasty lover called Anton, which was actually only a co-worker.
Meanwhile, FF was listening to music and figured out that he was somehow addicted to living. Grimar however is guitar addicted but it doesn't mean he dislikes bass and drums; They taste quite nasty like a diet coke with tomato souce.
"Ugh..." said the naked-truth-proclaiming newsreader, who didn't wear any Xandax(-labled) briefs nor contact lenses, which resulted in reduced sight, and pure carnage, when he lost his argument with the prosecutor's lawyer at the Court of Justice. He was tired and also ended up falling over absolutly nothing, because he had drunk a liquid that made his legs tremble in fear.
Suddenly Bloodmist proclaimed the beginning of the ending, when Weasel will emerge from the puddle of lurkers and become a real person with feelings - which is impossible.
We're so lucky that the giant was going bald. Now for something that has no connection whatsoever with a bald giant and his large unthinkably bald spot. It's time foooooor dwarven bald spots! Just ask Galuf when he's not in a vat with nothing but a duck on his bald head.
After the revolution everything was back in order, though they had tried very hard to inflict damage upon the "House of Chen" Chinese restaurant. Maybe next time they'll order the shrimp fried rice instead of Sturgeon, The Russian Vodka.
But then, suddenly, Magrus came and ruined my suit in a way only Magrus could after drinking too much, too fast, too furious.
Then the clouds parted and lo! There be heaven and God with an all-consuming power of quick subject change. "I am God", said the lunatic to the judge, who at first thought that he was in another weightclass, but then it turned out that God is something that all lower beings worship.
Later on, the representatives of mankind had an uprising that led to a pie fest in which Fas was defeated like the sissy-girl he is. We laughed about him and until the moderators stepped in, it was fascinating, but confrontating at the same time.
The easily bored spammers went for a walk in the spam forest, where an evil wolf was trembling in his boots. Actually there were some who figured that, morally seen, it... it was time to learn grammar and spelling.
Grimar was right there, eating a bowl of some nice hot potatoes, when a pie said: "Please eat me." And that's why we ate pie, but it tasted like a turtle's chocolate fudge cake and a very large and salty salt cube lick.
When we'd finished with our postfarming, darkness had decended, (pretty dark actually) yet we saw some of the vast and terrible decendents of an unwashed and miserable thing, resembling a squashed apricot. However, the fruit also stank like buggery bugger from Xenocide.
Eventually we decided if the utter fools and incompetents shall eat pie; Juicy and succulent marshmellow pies that rocking horses eat under a fountain. Off we went to seek out the Evil Pustule who evily makes foul pustule pies and eats them alive.
Communist bastards that don't know that I rule my own mind, found out that this thread is silly and blah blah blah blah etc. etc.
Plus, rampaging mules are somewhat exciting because they have huge tracts of land where they keep heaping piles of exotic wares for huge motherly purple prices. Buy now!
Everything was doomed to be consumed by the whimpy yellow mushroom men who lick blue plums all day because of unemployment and feeblemindedness that made want to make plum pies!
Later on, when ik stopped posting, he went to lurk and postfarm where he could, but some old naked fanatic was fondling dead turkeys, which looked like flabby dead turkeys, where flabby deadness was rife throughout the civil service.
"I need some small homogenized rodents to lessen the hunger of my pants with cannibal services brought to justice at the last day of the expiration date."
So ended another chapter in the Misanthropic Book of Mighty Spamming and Lurking.
CHAPTER SIX: Spamming some more.
An epidemic of epilepsy surprised the verbose snail of sycophants anonymous, who "peeped" his snail with a sprinkle of an orange misanthrope of very questionable moral and color.
"What is spam's square root?" you might ask. Someone should ask: "What's going on?!" Spam is going out the window of frosted muffins.
Harken, a mysoginistic bull fighter from anti-perspirant fruit world, landed in the news because of his laughably inapt second brain transplant. The transplant originated from darkest Uzbekistan, with which the UN is negotiating for bigger kumquats and more efficient wealth distribution among some other beings.
Maybe we all don't know what the point of excistence of pies is when they are thrown away.
Suddenly the terrible baboons, eating pie, had a scientific gathering concerning matters of varying importance, which none cared why these gnomes hated lesser beings.
Why do you? I don't know! This is outrageous! The insanity of heavy metal hamsters... - Macleod1701 is back! -
#1357. It was more than I thought.
, *hug* )The following passage starts with a lot of confusion and then picks up right after Shakespeare's famous quote.
As the famous Shakespeare once wrote: "Precious stone burns into ashes like CM's Duckie, but not like Zenemij's grammatic innacuracy".
"I can't spell well", said the walrus to the carpenter, who loved singing so much that his lungs were exhausted, because he sang his entire life since the death of his bunny. That lovely animal was his only friend during his childhood which he spent living on a beach in Florida. He's been a carpenter and made boats for animals like the rubber duck that DW stole.
And others covet the highly praised and exalted object, that is currently a property of the foundation for little satanic bunnies with financial problems. Ever since this organization slacked big time, and got ripped off by the government. One of the occured problems was the lack of money. So the workers decided on no more wages for two Satanic work men, because they didn't write three words in little green letters on the blackboard.
Next month Brynn will take her bf to Disneyland© Paris to show him Mickey Mouse and poke Donald on the rear end, so they could photograph his beak and his fluffy tail, as Goofy killed everything in it's close environment. Donald quickly ran away and found out that Dolly was having a nasty lover called Anton, which was actually only a co-worker.
Meanwhile, FF was listening to music and figured out that he was somehow addicted to living. Grimar however is guitar addicted but it doesn't mean he dislikes bass and drums; They taste quite nasty like a diet coke with tomato souce.
"Ugh..." said the naked-truth-proclaiming newsreader, who didn't wear any Xandax(-labled) briefs nor contact lenses, which resulted in reduced sight, and pure carnage, when he lost his argument with the prosecutor's lawyer at the Court of Justice. He was tired and also ended up falling over absolutly nothing, because he had drunk a liquid that made his legs tremble in fear.
Suddenly Bloodmist proclaimed the beginning of the ending, when Weasel will emerge from the puddle of lurkers and become a real person with feelings - which is impossible.
We're so lucky that the giant was going bald. Now for something that has no connection whatsoever with a bald giant and his large unthinkably bald spot. It's time foooooor dwarven bald spots! Just ask Galuf when he's not in a vat with nothing but a duck on his bald head.
After the revolution everything was back in order, though they had tried very hard to inflict damage upon the "House of Chen" Chinese restaurant. Maybe next time they'll order the shrimp fried rice instead of Sturgeon, The Russian Vodka.
But then, suddenly, Magrus came and ruined my suit in a way only Magrus could after drinking too much, too fast, too furious.
Then the clouds parted and lo! There be heaven and God with an all-consuming power of quick subject change. "I am God", said the lunatic to the judge, who at first thought that he was in another weightclass, but then it turned out that God is something that all lower beings worship.
Later on, the representatives of mankind had an uprising that led to a pie fest in which Fas was defeated like the sissy-girl he is. We laughed about him and until the moderators stepped in, it was fascinating, but confrontating at the same time.
The easily bored spammers went for a walk in the spam forest, where an evil wolf was trembling in his boots. Actually there were some who figured that, morally seen, it... it was time to learn grammar and spelling.
Grimar was right there, eating a bowl of some nice hot potatoes, when a pie said: "Please eat me." And that's why we ate pie, but it tasted like a turtle's chocolate fudge cake and a very large and salty salt cube lick.
When we'd finished with our postfarming, darkness had decended, (pretty dark actually) yet we saw some of the vast and terrible decendents of an unwashed and miserable thing, resembling a squashed apricot. However, the fruit also stank like buggery bugger from Xenocide.
Eventually we decided if the utter fools and incompetents shall eat pie; Juicy and succulent marshmellow pies that rocking horses eat under a fountain. Off we went to seek out the Evil Pustule who evily makes foul pustule pies and eats them alive.
Communist bastards that don't know that I rule my own mind, found out that this thread is silly and blah blah blah blah etc. etc.
Plus, rampaging mules are somewhat exciting because they have huge tracts of land where they keep heaping piles of exotic wares for huge motherly purple prices. Buy now!
Everything was doomed to be consumed by the whimpy yellow mushroom men who lick blue plums all day because of unemployment and feeblemindedness that made want to make plum pies!
Later on, when ik stopped posting, he went to lurk and postfarm where he could, but some old naked fanatic was fondling dead turkeys, which looked like flabby dead turkeys, where flabby deadness was rife throughout the civil service.
"I need some small homogenized rodents to lessen the hunger of my pants with cannibal services brought to justice at the last day of the expiration date."
So ended another chapter in the Misanthropic Book of Mighty Spamming and Lurking.
CHAPTER SIX: Spamming some more.
An epidemic of epilepsy surprised the verbose snail of sycophants anonymous, who "peeped" his snail with a sprinkle of an orange misanthrope of very questionable moral and color.
"What is spam's square root?" you might ask. Someone should ask: "What's going on?!" Spam is going out the window of frosted muffins.
Harken, a mysoginistic bull fighter from anti-perspirant fruit world, landed in the news because of his laughably inapt second brain transplant. The transplant originated from darkest Uzbekistan, with which the UN is negotiating for bigger kumquats and more efficient wealth distribution among some other beings.
Maybe we all don't know what the point of excistence of pies is when they are thrown away.
Suddenly the terrible baboons, eating pie, had a scientific gathering concerning matters of varying importance, which none cared why these gnomes hated lesser beings.
Why do you? I don't know! This is outrageous! The insanity of heavy metal hamsters... - Macleod1701 is back! -
#1357. It was more than I thought.
[size=-1]An optimist is a badly informed pessimist.[/size]
Oh my, I haven't laughed so hard since Rob-hin named me Brynntintin!
ROFL! Actually, at this part "The easily bored spammers went for a walk in the spam forest, where an evil wolf was trembling in his boots. " I was laughing so hard that my eyes became filled with tears! Ah, no one can accuse the 3 word game with postfarming anymore, this is the greatest fun!
ROFL!
Actually, at this part "The easily bored spammers went for a walk in the spam forest, where an evil wolf was trembling in his boots. " I was laughing so hard that my eyes became filled with tears! Ah, no one can accuse the 3 word game with postfarming anymore, this is the greatest fun! Up the IRONS!
Will you please never ever again forget who brought the peanut butter to our country? Now there is lots-o peanut butter and misunderstandings about honey on toast. Some say toast is similar to crackers, but I'm pretty sure they were drunk and mistaken for smurfs by potato men.
But then the cheese in my teeth was irritating the hair on my overly-large feet, which were just too darn smelly and were also purple, due to the constant drinking.
Suddenly, out of the orange plumb, came a force that consumed every bit of food that the farmers harvested last week.
As time went and came back, a lot of "quality time" was wasted, because of lurid examples of singing polar bears, who have huge problems with their green and purple apples and bananas, which taste like mystical pieces of exotic palm trees.
Well. It is about time someone drew forth their absurd and uncomprenehsible warwagon, since it was very recently not capable to lemon filling in nice juicy limes! It was so froggy like, that a frog actually had to wear glasses to recognise the distinguishing feature of the noticable penguins, that were just normal and singing rudely at, while listening to, Mag's brother, singing Steve Miller Band at the Queen's procrastinating servants, who decided not to dress in frillie while crucifying a 'Sacrificialvirgin' onto pentagrams.
The trick is to not let a single drop go unnoticed, when you're painting a portrait of the brave mistresses husband. Her husband, coincidentally happened to like drinking tequila and playing Banjo while it was illegal, but when it showed up, things were murderous and turned a little Kitty into a very, VERY attractive girl named Oscuro_Sol. She was so pretty, that she had to kill all of my other prettier ex-girlfriends, but they weren't vulnerable to Osc's mighty and vast high pitched wails, with which their mighty and terrible pants just started to catch fire. -And they cried-
Then suddenly started to implode.
Where did all the spammers get to, when there was flowers up the dime and exclusiveness at the old frontier, where an enormous teacup was overflowed with information about Adahn's personal problems, which was strange, even for a wanker like CM, who recently killed some kittens. The reason I don't imagine that, is because of my weak nerves mangled in the maelstrom where chaos merges with lucidity.
It's always awkward that someone quotes a location.
How thine magical booty reflects the sunlight in the glorious daylight, is something I can only ignore. But shadows fall upon thee who ignores the aforementioned eye caressing and instead gives money to charities to get retribution.
I can't expect Grimar to explain weapon of doom abilities, since he said OMG without his trusty rusty ox cart, which ran Oozit over in a bloody puddle, smeared across Mag's dancing brother.
"Now that's kinky", said an innocent drunk and exhausted music fanatic named Itty Bitty Kitty. Itty Bitty Kitty ran around the telephone pole, until I grabbed her and said sternly:
"No, kitty, you'll hurt yourself by getting dizzy, running around the poll."
The kitty then screamed so horribly, I jumped and exclaimed:
"KITTY! Why are you screaming?"
And Kitty replied by biting and screaming some more, so I pet her gently, but to no avail. Suddenly, Kitty's arch-enemy Mr. Beagle puppy said:
"Kitty, you shouldn't be screaming. It's bad for your throat and strange flappy thingies."
Kitty glared down at Mr Beagle , swishing her tail irritably. She then pounces on puppy and rips him apart with her super razor sharp claws and teeth. But Mr Beagle ran away with the kitty's wallet with her latched, which was filled with lemon pie stuff, dripping all over rabid monkeys with pinecone houses and Yamaha alto saxes. Mr. Beagle puppy once owned a fish but ate a very small wallet that belonged to the kitty. This caused the kitty to get incredibally unhappy and very angry at Mr. Beagle puppy.
So ends the great life of the Bubbleheads at Stonehenge. Under stone altars and piles they lived and crawled in tunnels.
"Live in peace and love", said the old spammers who lived in an old shipwreck in the Great Davey Jones Locker, which was filled with glorious amounts of incredibally abundant pieces of slightly mutated leftover chicken from last night's rockin' spam fest, that ended abruptly due to circumstances of early bedtimes.
The mods grouped together against the evil spammers named Goatsy Malone and this guy who did naughty things, because of his immaturity.
My puppy once knew the way into my secret, magical tunnel but now it's called the Tunnel. The Tunnel is five miles long and the puppy soon figured out exactly why Magrus was totally lost in the Tunnel, but Itty Bitty Kitty found him in the Tunnel and then started to quickly remove whats inside it, -for the Tunnel's filled with sticky lubricant similar to baby oil and baby shampoo- when then slipped and fell and broke it's ankle on a pointy rock which contained a big bomb.
Soon a diamond, for Wile E. Coyote to trick the Itty Bitty Kitty into coming closer, so Coyote could eat the kitten and the puppy, ran to help, but got hit by Mr. Coyote with an anvil on his tail.
SUDDENLY, out of nowhere Itty Bitty Kitty stole Coyote's Red can o'spam, because she dearly wanted some of her fur balls. I dunno why but that's very strange indeed.
One day, the kitty wanted Maggy's vodka, but wasn't around, so she just snuck up close to the innocent guy with vodka and ripped his vodka from his very hands. Kitty then had some blue raspberry vodka, then got drunk due to circumstances of my creating.
It says in a loud voice that Allah must have spanked Fas to have such a pleased grin all the time. So, Mr. puppy was mad at Itty Bitty Kitty, because Oscuro was sniffling all night, but stopped because she had vodka and enjoyed it while getting drunk at a wedding and then ran and ran, until suddenly, out of Maggy's long Tunnel came a great force, so powerful it knocked her out of her shoes.
Then all the spam ceased, because all were away from SYM and sleeping soundly, until, all of the sudden, someone broke wind violently, when beer was found to be an exquisite way of living life.
Not only that, but all of the action went to the big Beagle puppy and evil plotter Oscuro and together they plotted and plotted, until the moon came up. Finally, under the bright sun, beagle puppy then ran after his ambitions to pounce on the one called Itty Bitty Kitty and the one called Jojo the clown. Little did they know, that once Oscuro said to me, in a creepy birthday suit: "I'm in a bad mood today." I asked "Why Osc? Why bad? Take your momma to a movie only on sundays, because Sundays are special or something."
It says in a really big book, that the puppy runs around and around and therefore destroyed this by forces which the big book said so in.
Let's end this circle running mess, or the world's going to go beyond nonsensical and stuff.
This topic is starting to hurt my wrists but stealing is hurting my wrists and I have really tight handcuffs, courtesy of DW. My wrists REALLY hurt but it's a shame I stole someone's vodka. I'm very sorry. We can make nothing because I'm a naughty theif.
"Wah," I say. Then, I giggle and slap Maggy and that hurts, but I had no heart and then hugged Maggy and got spanked. But I don't mind at all because Maggy appears to be drunk and never sober. Only occasionally and rarely will Maggy be sober and spank everyone in the dungeoun down under where kangaroos dwelt in Australia. Australia and Down-Under is great fun but the same stuff every day again.
Ranch life is dirty and can be very hard on the people of Halifax; A place that many lobsters have visited for new methods of escape from deviant playwrights, because who knows what diabolical machinations will attack you with guava halves.
It's too bad plums are not like everyone says, but are gloriously purple-ish in colour. But evil potatoes can be so exuberant, that they sometimes even ask: "Why are baboons so strangely mystifying?" And the answer to that, my godless infidels, is really disappointing, because it doesn't involve hitting people like lime loving englishmen. "I also find englishmen extremly erotic", said limey today. Limey was also smart but desperate.
Then, one day, someone said to consume copious amounts for the benefit of degenerate porpoises that travel in bright pink submarines, that go against the very meaning of Paul McCartney. Sir Paul was recently debating about the merits of the swimming porpoises and how to sing like a dying Alberta goose. "Geese usually fly south for winter, but north in time for tea", said the Lime, "in the coke!", while eating a monkey's tail with whipped cream.
Completely sour and decomposed, Maxi returned to his little hidey-hole in San Margarita. The town was quickly saturated with margarita olives and art-deco sculptures by a guy called 'Leo'. This artist actually had a phobia. He feared needles. Leo really, really feared needles. "Needles are yucky", he exclaimed whenever he saw one.
Tomatoes wearing raincoats would also frighten Penn and Teller, but that's a different story, seeing as an army, hearing like a deaf man, looking like a carcass: Too nasty to even comprehend the details of this enormous baton, which we just described in the last nights cold, dark and spent alone, unless you had company, ofcourse.
Stories were once told until mankind realized they caused cancer. When that was getting old they quickly switched over to styrofoam/microwave issues.
Chihuahuas in microwaves can cause serious nausia, heartburn, upset-stomach, and life-threatening vomiting. Ik discovered this while putting a bit of thought into a box.
(almost maximum characters! )
But then the cheese in my teeth was irritating the hair on my overly-large feet, which were just too darn smelly and were also purple, due to the constant drinking.
Suddenly, out of the orange plumb, came a force that consumed every bit of food that the farmers harvested last week.
As time went and came back, a lot of "quality time" was wasted, because of lurid examples of singing polar bears, who have huge problems with their green and purple apples and bananas, which taste like mystical pieces of exotic palm trees.
Well. It is about time someone drew forth their absurd and uncomprenehsible warwagon, since it was very recently not capable to lemon filling in nice juicy limes! It was so froggy like, that a frog actually had to wear glasses to recognise the distinguishing feature of the noticable penguins, that were just normal and singing rudely at, while listening to, Mag's brother, singing Steve Miller Band at the Queen's procrastinating servants, who decided not to dress in frillie while crucifying a 'Sacrificialvirgin' onto pentagrams.
The trick is to not let a single drop go unnoticed, when you're painting a portrait of the brave mistresses husband. Her husband, coincidentally happened to like drinking tequila and playing Banjo while it was illegal, but when it showed up, things were murderous and turned a little Kitty into a very, VERY attractive girl named Oscuro_Sol. She was so pretty, that she had to kill all of my other prettier ex-girlfriends, but they weren't vulnerable to Osc's mighty and vast high pitched wails, with which their mighty and terrible pants just started to catch fire. -And they cried-
Then suddenly started to implode.
Where did all the spammers get to, when there was flowers up the dime and exclusiveness at the old frontier, where an enormous teacup was overflowed with information about Adahn's personal problems, which was strange, even for a wanker like CM, who recently killed some kittens. The reason I don't imagine that, is because of my weak nerves mangled in the maelstrom where chaos merges with lucidity.
It's always awkward that someone quotes a location.
How thine magical booty reflects the sunlight in the glorious daylight, is something I can only ignore. But shadows fall upon thee who ignores the aforementioned eye caressing and instead gives money to charities to get retribution.
I can't expect Grimar to explain weapon of doom abilities, since he said OMG without his trusty rusty ox cart, which ran Oozit over in a bloody puddle, smeared across Mag's dancing brother.
"Now that's kinky", said an innocent drunk and exhausted music fanatic named Itty Bitty Kitty. Itty Bitty Kitty ran around the telephone pole, until I grabbed her and said sternly:
"No, kitty, you'll hurt yourself by getting dizzy, running around the poll."
The kitty then screamed so horribly, I jumped and exclaimed:
"KITTY! Why are you screaming?"
And Kitty replied by biting and screaming some more, so I pet her gently, but to no avail. Suddenly, Kitty's arch-enemy Mr. Beagle puppy said:
"Kitty, you shouldn't be screaming. It's bad for your throat and strange flappy thingies."
Kitty glared down at Mr Beagle , swishing her tail irritably. She then pounces on puppy and rips him apart with her super razor sharp claws and teeth. But Mr Beagle ran away with the kitty's wallet with her latched, which was filled with lemon pie stuff, dripping all over rabid monkeys with pinecone houses and Yamaha alto saxes. Mr. Beagle puppy once owned a fish but ate a very small wallet that belonged to the kitty. This caused the kitty to get incredibally unhappy and very angry at Mr. Beagle puppy.
So ends the great life of the Bubbleheads at Stonehenge. Under stone altars and piles they lived and crawled in tunnels.
"Live in peace and love", said the old spammers who lived in an old shipwreck in the Great Davey Jones Locker, which was filled with glorious amounts of incredibally abundant pieces of slightly mutated leftover chicken from last night's rockin' spam fest, that ended abruptly due to circumstances of early bedtimes.
The mods grouped together against the evil spammers named Goatsy Malone and this guy who did naughty things, because of his immaturity.
My puppy once knew the way into my secret, magical tunnel but now it's called the Tunnel. The Tunnel is five miles long and the puppy soon figured out exactly why Magrus was totally lost in the Tunnel, but Itty Bitty Kitty found him in the Tunnel and then started to quickly remove whats inside it, -for the Tunnel's filled with sticky lubricant similar to baby oil and baby shampoo- when then slipped and fell and broke it's ankle on a pointy rock which contained a big bomb.
Soon a diamond, for Wile E. Coyote to trick the Itty Bitty Kitty into coming closer, so Coyote could eat the kitten and the puppy, ran to help, but got hit by Mr. Coyote with an anvil on his tail.
SUDDENLY, out of nowhere Itty Bitty Kitty stole Coyote's Red can o'spam, because she dearly wanted some of her fur balls. I dunno why but that's very strange indeed.
One day, the kitty wanted Maggy's vodka, but wasn't around, so she just snuck up close to the innocent guy with vodka and ripped his vodka from his very hands. Kitty then had some blue raspberry vodka, then got drunk due to circumstances of my creating.
It says in a loud voice that Allah must have spanked Fas to have such a pleased grin all the time. So, Mr. puppy was mad at Itty Bitty Kitty, because Oscuro was sniffling all night, but stopped because she had vodka and enjoyed it while getting drunk at a wedding and then ran and ran, until suddenly, out of Maggy's long Tunnel came a great force, so powerful it knocked her out of her shoes.
Then all the spam ceased, because all were away from SYM and sleeping soundly, until, all of the sudden, someone broke wind violently, when beer was found to be an exquisite way of living life.
Not only that, but all of the action went to the big Beagle puppy and evil plotter Oscuro and together they plotted and plotted, until the moon came up. Finally, under the bright sun, beagle puppy then ran after his ambitions to pounce on the one called Itty Bitty Kitty and the one called Jojo the clown. Little did they know, that once Oscuro said to me, in a creepy birthday suit: "I'm in a bad mood today." I asked "Why Osc? Why bad? Take your momma to a movie only on sundays, because Sundays are special or something."
It says in a really big book, that the puppy runs around and around and therefore destroyed this by forces which the big book said so in.
Let's end this circle running mess, or the world's going to go beyond nonsensical and stuff.
This topic is starting to hurt my wrists but stealing is hurting my wrists and I have really tight handcuffs, courtesy of DW. My wrists REALLY hurt but it's a shame I stole someone's vodka. I'm very sorry. We can make nothing because I'm a naughty theif.
"Wah," I say. Then, I giggle and slap Maggy and that hurts, but I had no heart and then hugged Maggy and got spanked. But I don't mind at all because Maggy appears to be drunk and never sober. Only occasionally and rarely will Maggy be sober and spank everyone in the dungeoun down under where kangaroos dwelt in Australia. Australia and Down-Under is great fun but the same stuff every day again.
Ranch life is dirty and can be very hard on the people of Halifax; A place that many lobsters have visited for new methods of escape from deviant playwrights, because who knows what diabolical machinations will attack you with guava halves.
It's too bad plums are not like everyone says, but are gloriously purple-ish in colour. But evil potatoes can be so exuberant, that they sometimes even ask: "Why are baboons so strangely mystifying?" And the answer to that, my godless infidels, is really disappointing, because it doesn't involve hitting people like lime loving englishmen. "I also find englishmen extremly erotic", said limey today. Limey was also smart but desperate.
Then, one day, someone said to consume copious amounts for the benefit of degenerate porpoises that travel in bright pink submarines, that go against the very meaning of Paul McCartney. Sir Paul was recently debating about the merits of the swimming porpoises and how to sing like a dying Alberta goose. "Geese usually fly south for winter, but north in time for tea", said the Lime, "in the coke!", while eating a monkey's tail with whipped cream.
Completely sour and decomposed, Maxi returned to his little hidey-hole in San Margarita. The town was quickly saturated with margarita olives and art-deco sculptures by a guy called 'Leo'. This artist actually had a phobia. He feared needles. Leo really, really feared needles. "Needles are yucky", he exclaimed whenever he saw one.
Tomatoes wearing raincoats would also frighten Penn and Teller, but that's a different story, seeing as an army, hearing like a deaf man, looking like a carcass: Too nasty to even comprehend the details of this enormous baton, which we just described in the last nights cold, dark and spent alone, unless you had company, ofcourse.
Stories were once told until mankind realized they caused cancer. When that was getting old they quickly switched over to styrofoam/microwave issues.
Chihuahuas in microwaves can cause serious nausia, heartburn, upset-stomach, and life-threatening vomiting. Ik discovered this while putting a bit of thought into a box.
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)[size=-1]An optimist is a badly informed pessimist.[/size]
For once, I can actually say I participated enough to make that possible. Thank you Ikky for putting all of that nonsense together.
"You can do whatever you want to me."
"Oh, so I can crate you and hide you in the warehouse at the end of Raiders?"
"So funny, kiss me funny boy!" / *Sprays mace* " I know, I know, bad for the ozone"
"Oh, so I can crate you and hide you in the warehouse at the end of Raiders?"
"So funny, kiss me funny boy!" / *Sprays mace* " I know, I know, bad for the ozone"
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Oscuro_Sol
- Posts: 4475
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