corspe of a middle aged woman getting dry-humped by Chris Griffin.
She had a name tag on her jacket that read Maria Maculiaclulicia.
Then suddenly Maria...
I used to play this game in the playground at primary school a lot.
It can be fun but is unlikely to result in a very good consistent story.
I lost conciousness imediately.
When I woke up, I was in a room with.....
A copy of the Great Gatsby and a Subway Italian BMT on my bedside. I suddenly became aware of the fact that . . .
i decided that it was about time . . .
perhaps she'll be wearing underpants this time.
Then again, . . .
Suddenly, indigo mood shift intrudes with the tepid, anti- sci-factoid pseudo-intelligent nightlife.
Putrid-green skys puke up bright blue Pisces, Capricorns, and Tauruses.
Marvelous.
Saw a temptous temp bleed tear-sheads the broken buckled of her Mary Jane.
Saw her eyes gazes upon my own.
Saw her abrupt scowl
But I see how rose-ped-embedded red lace curtains
Effortlessly conceals the Ascension Cross
That Upstands the top of an otherwise A Gothic Temple
Of Odinist Gargoyles
Scaring their simulaneously decrepid yet sincere facial language
Monotheists were to frightened by their beastialic posture
To understand their internal stance as ani-humanist
As they climb the church's walls permanetly encarcerated in obsidian
Makes us both corrupt
will not turn out well.
Meanwhile, Iggolm argues with itself: You are nothing but a chicken, a cornered little chicken.
Itself: ferratferratferrat
Itself: I miss those parts, too, but you have to get over it.
Itself: felatfelatfelatfelat
Iggolm: I am so very unhappy since we merged
Iggolm: It's no picnic for me either
Itself: Did you bring
Itself: the ketchup
Iggolm: the catsup
Itself and Itself (simultaneously) THAT IS NOT HOW YOU SPELL IT!!!
Iggolma: I'm going to sleep now
Iggolms: who the heck are you?
Iggolma: I'm your feminine side. Now shut the hell up and go to sleep!
caca caca caca caca caca
never mind
I am in the wrong theatre...
.... an elephant. But that wasn't all.
Wearing a Rimsky-Korsakov t-shirt to the interview wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done. She realized at the last minute that she could have worn the new one she'd gotten at the Boston concert.
they circled back and triangulated their plan. Someone has gotten a bit distracted, someone else said. Please step away from the sha...sha...sha la la, hey let's sing a song before
he decided to breed a 300 pound parakeet as a publicity stunt, but it went wrong and
and if so was it "Turkey in the Straw" or "Chicken on the Moon?" Mogfelat started to tell that same old story about the perpendicularity of breakfast foods and Ligferat was cornered
Mog found himself in a perpendicular universe. Odd, he thought, I've been here before, but I was a chicken! Quickly he scanned the obituary page for his name. Not there. Good, he thought. Then he realized with a start (and quite nearly a finish, too) that the page had been renamed "People We Miss."