Let's write a story....

[ihatepop]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded

ihatepop

[G.W.K]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by

G.W.K

[valor]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas

[G.W.K]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John

G.W.K

[jlh]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took

[G.W.K]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his

G.W.K

[blinded_by_the_power]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive

[valor]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head

[G.W.K]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and

G.W.K

[jlh]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook

[G.W.K]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it

G.W.K

[kony]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility

[G.W.K]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards

G.W.K

[jlh]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the

[kony]

altar

[m1469]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar.  Then

[ihatepop]

bats

ihatepop

[jlh]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar.  Then bats from

[pinoypianist]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar.  Then bats from outer
 
 

[ihatepop]

space

ihatepop

[mycrabface]

pulled

[jlh]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar.  Then bats from outer space pulled into

[mycrabface]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar.  Then bats from outer space pulled into the

[ihatepop]

vortex

ihatepop

[chopianist123]

thus

[jlh]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar.  Then bats from outer space pulled into the vortex, thus inhibiting

[ihatepop]

the

ihatepop

[G.W.K]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar. Then bats from outer space pulled into the vortex, thus inhibiting the previously

G.W.K

[G.W.K]

No one going to continue the story? LOL

G.W.K

[jlh]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar. Then bats from outer space pulled into the vortex, thus inhibiting the previously shrill

[G.W.K]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar. Then bats from outer space pulled into the vortex, thus inhibiting the previously shrill inhabitants

G.W.K

[chopianist123]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar. Then bats from outer space pulled into the vortex, thus inhibiting the previously shrill inhabitants from

[G.W.K]

On arrival inside the remaining ruins of her ventilated, internal masses surrounded by ninjas, John took his massive head and shook it with agility towards the altar. Then bats from outer space pulled into the vortex, thus inhibiting the previously shrill inhabitants from the

G.W.K

[gasplamey]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique

[liszt-and-the-galops]

Well that's a hell of a necropost... and no Courier either?
lol, I already read through this thread a while ago when I was looking at what threads on ABP had the most replies. Gave me a ton of good laughs.
Anyways, I suppose I'm willing to continue this story...


Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in

[gasplamey]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in the

no Courier either?

The Courier New font is used to convey a sense of moderate unseriousness, which this thread has enough of already.

[liszt-and-the-galops]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in the most

[gasplamey]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in the most luxuriant

[liszt-and-the-galops]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in the most luxuriant, methodically

[gasplamey]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in the most luxuriant, methodically Violinistic

[gasplamey]

Is no one going to continue the story?

[liszt-and-the-galops]

Is no one going to continue the story?

Good timing lol, I thought I was the one who'd responded last XD.

Next word: anomaly

[gasplamey]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in the most luxuriant, methodically violinistic anomaly in

Good timing lol, I thought I was the one who'd responded last XD.

HA.

[liszt-and-the-galops]

HA.

What's so funny?

Next word: (the*) great

*"the" doesn't count as a word.

Also, not sure why we haven't fixed it yet, but "lemonpie s" should be "lemonpie showgirls..." XD

[gasplamey]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie showgirls. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in the most luxuriant, methodically violinistic anomaly in The Great Gatsby.

What's so funny?

That that was the reason that the therad died for a month and a half.

Next word: (the*) great

*"the" doesn't count as a word.

According to what?

Also, not sure why we haven't fixed it yet, but "lemonpie s" should be "lemonpie showgirls..." XD

Noted and fixed.


Also nice setup for the Gatsby reference. Paganini in Gatsby wasn't something I would have thought of.🤣

[liszt-and-the-galops]

According to what?
Also nice setup for the Gatsby reference. Paganini in Gatsby wasn't something I would have thought of.🤣[/font]

According to everyone who's added something since around page 3? I also think someone brought it up at one point but I can't find the quote.
Also, when I wrote "the great" I was expecting something like "annals," not for you to make F. Scott Fitzgerald fanfiction lmfao.

Next word: (The Great Gatsby)'s procedurally

TGG should be italicized.

[gasplamey]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie showgirls. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in the most luxuriant, methodically violinistic anomaly in The Great Gatsby's procedurally autobiographical

Also, when I wrote "the great" I was expecting something like "annals," not for you to make F. Scott Fitzgerald fanfiction lmfao.

Seriously?
Also now that you've said "F. Scott. Fitzgerald fanfiction" I'm running with that. Gatsby is now a procedural autobiography that something.

[liszt-and-the-galops]

time-travel


F_ck it lmao.

[gasplamey]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie showgirls. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura technique in the most luxuriant, methodically violinistic anomaly in The Great Gatsby's procedurally autobiographical time-travel adventure.


Using a hyphen there is definitely cheating but that line is hysterical so I'll allow it.

[pjslp17]

And they all lived happily ever after.  THE END