And that is cabbage!
Unless, of course, the briar patch is covered with honey and pancake syrup.
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And that is cabbage!
Unless, of course, the briar patch is covered with honey and pancake syrup.
Writin gn blotting paper of course!!!!!
But seriously, help me tranplant a self centered monkey!
If I was carrying a canoe with 4 wheels on my back, how many pancakes would it take to fill the empire state building if it had a pickle on the 3rd floor? I think 2 billion because pancakes smell good. liver fungus ate my nematode soup.
Yes....interesting
The Joker went to medical school
Swooping in from the abyss of time comes him with flaming black feathers. He is a god of decay, or so he appears to normal mortals. The sky is an endless spectrum of stars, a vast space that nothing could comprehend.
This particular god of decay descends all the way and rests upon the sidewalk, gazing at the vastly stretched road with blaring horns. The skyscrapers around protruded lights; the buildings shot lights, the cars emitted lights. Women with lit phones, men with lit faces. The world was lit—yet it was so dark.
The decay flew off, the wind searing his face as the tops of buildings passed by him. Each window of these skyscrapers was lit, and upon the top of each—behold, a light of red! Not just one, but a great multitude atop each rising antenna. The decay landed, overlooking the glimmering waters of the harbor. Laden across it rested a bridge of great size.
Enter the narrative of this decay, which the reader may mistake to be of neutral elation to the overall picture. In truth, it is not from a hell but simply of a vortex in which time aided. Naught is he even a god, but has utilized a technology stretched from human grasp. 10,000, these are the years since he entered the steel coils, yet even before that he died not.
It was but true that when one is void of death, even one chosen to be a most passionate lover, nay, the very sun of your life—they will die aside the rest. Naught is the existence of reunion; the bitter darkness of the city is yours heretofore, and thereafter.
FOOLS! The chicken and the dolphin dance in the shower, for they have watched the internet. As the tree sighs his last breath, the clouds start raining gummy bears from the sky. The people of the city Folopolopolis rejoice as the cheeseburgers sing gaily to the devil's daughter, who had been caught with Johnathan, the mortal boy from the outside world.
Johnathan had been preaching the words of Ronald McDonald, explaining that all big macs should be created juicier. The bananas had also been preaching about McDonald's too, but are thinking about converting to Glow in the dark sticks. The mountain trolls cast their sorrow upon the weak, eliminating the ugly puppies. The people of Folopolopolis mourn for DARTH VADER, who is apparently speaking L33T:
"|=00|_5! |-|4|\||) //\//\3 Y0(_)|2 |_454|\|93! |=0|2 1 |-|4\/3 Y0(_)|2 |O0|<3//\//\0|\|5, 4|\||) \\/\\/1|_|_ |\|07 |237(_)|2|\| 7|-|3//\//\ (_)|\||_355 7|-|3 \\/\\/00|<|<135 |_1(|< //\//\Y |=337!"
.....The gummy bears then eat the socks, and the people sing songs of praise.
“A lot changes with the passing of time, for this land was all but demolished,” A gust of wind lashed at his face, the waters cracking below. The city stood as vast and terrifying as the ocean’s deep. “It was us, us who delivered this land from sure fire, it was their sacrifice, and my punishment to live on. Yet who alive will speak of us more than rumor?
“I look, and behold! A lifetime of toil, of pain, and endless struggle was upon us. It was us who liberated and the reason these fair people live yet free. Where are we in their heart? The man, he was correct, for even my love’s great sacrifice… great cause… is lost in time.
“I saw but a few lines in theory, yet my friends, O lover of mine—dead and buried only to be afforded one twinge of attention! I would give up my life, my very soul to return thee to me, or me to thee!
Then he was in a different locale, for the stars and the worlds surrounded him. Before him one such world opened up, the earth, moaning deeply into the vast purple cosmos. Its moan could not be increased in its heinous terror.
“The times have needed not you, for you art dead! Corpses are your loved ones! What does it matter to us? For even if thou words art true, what does it change to us? Not one heart believes in you, thus not one influence have you made. If not one brain contains you, then you never existed at all.”
And then it dawned, no came—the ambient sound of the universe. It was terrifying, a feeling of intimidation that a human heart should not contain nor feel. Then the Earth, which spoke to him, was strewn a half lit sphere ahead. The great space surrounded from all sides, and darkness. Repus, the wraith of the times, was the one whom extended his hand to the earth.
No one believes we existed… then nothing we did happened… It maters not that the Earth would be all but gone without me, since I am remembered not, I never did it!
He became as a child, weeping and wishing for a fantasy that would come to sooth the realities. Have a princess or fairy to take it all away. Yet this was a reality—the slow pull from the earth, into the limitless seas of the void.
Will I meet the sun, my son? His mind cried. Will the bluebirds sing? What of my wife, my life? Will she smile for me?
There was no answer. There would never be an answer. He closed his eyes, drifting alone. And drift he went, for all of eternity.
Thankies. :B
There was a man. There was a daughter.
Enter onto the final floor, over the vast spectacle that is a city. Night—oh so dark it is, yet life holds many dark nights! Exposed before the eyes of men between three starry lights, casting shadows not captured. Eyes, so many damn eyes, noses, mouths, brains! Yet had he any reason to fret? None! This is the world stage, the news of history books! For a moment, picture her, a ninth grader of petty lusts. No? How about she whose beauty has fled her? What of He who procrastinates and writes? Rebuke such thoughts! This is the world stage! A stronger immunity than most is bestowed upon this man.
Until he leaves, that is. Alone, the phone rings. “Hello?” he begins. He receives the news.
(Has this thread died or what?)
One, two, three, CHIMINICHIDOOM!
TORONTOGOSH!
Han Solo en tiglo carbon!
Way back when I was older, I used to have a pet stove. I'd take that monstrosity of an oven wherever I went; I always had fresh-baked cookies. Until one day, it got hit by a car. Killed three people, and smashed my pet stove into pieces. No more would it's glowing eyes look back at me from hip height, round with adoration, no more would its gaping maw emit tasty pastries and meals, hot and fresh, no more would it come running when I called, "Kenmore!" I was alone in the world.
But then I heard about this new invention: socks. So I started to wonder; would socks make good pets? Maybe I could breed them, and sell them! So I got a pair of pink frilly ones, and a pair of white tube socks, and I bred them. Man, I was selling socks right and left, inside and out. I was up to my ears in sock lint, and no matter how many I sold, they just kept reproducing. So I had to sell them off. I sold them to some guy named Wilson, and he came up with a way to breed them in different colors and everything. I hear they're dong well these days, the guy got rich off of them.
Anyway, where's my supper? I'm getting hungry.
Help! My mouth is on fire!!!
I believe these tuberculoses means I have cough.
http://onnintendo.com/Posts/2006_07/87/2/00001.pnghttp://dsmedia.gamespy.com/ds/image/...7102907364.jpghttp://files.nintendic.com/nintendo-...on/hmdsss1.jpghttp://a248.e.akamai.net/f/248/5462/...7810_nds_8.jpghttp://www.gamer.nl/images/content/M...179534_2_2.jpg
http://www.pocketgamer.co.uk/FCKEdit...rvest-moon.jpg
http://img256.echo.cx/img256/289/tendodokuta1qg.jpghttp://www.ntsc-uk.com/reviews/nds/HarvestMoonDS/02.jpg
O_O
Here goes...first time trying this.
So this one time the cat came up from the basement. He wouldn't have been shot, but Van Gogh didn't have his tea time, and you know what happens then. Then this knife shot from the ceiling because my closet just got cleaned out. I did a reality check after someone tried to talk to me. I figured I dyed my hair and forgot about it. His upper lip was all hairy, seeing as the DVD player had a quarter stuck in it. I signed the mortgage papers but that didn't help things. In fact, the faith healer choked on a popcorn kernel. The cat got rabies after I used spellcheck. I really needed that healer. I told the bear to do the suicide slide, but he didn't have two balls yet so he had to stay back until someone hit him. The pickle surprise on my sandwich tasted nasty, like static. Subsequently my tongue burned off and the potatoes froze. David Hasselhoff hit my head with a frying pan. It hurt as bad as when I had to sign those mortgage papers. eventually the scars healed but I still have to find Ursa Major. I must go now-- the purple elephants have begun the ritual.
the banana dances... he dances like bears build rocket ships...
the meaning of his dance is the equivalent of a nasty stare to the groin! oooh, the sting of it! beware the reason, for the brick in the purse shall not forget!
it is all that we are!
and all that you aren't.
Alright, *Hands Pirate a box of crazed weasels*
When The Crystal Sang ~ Duck, Super
Why, oh, why must the naked vulture dance? His rubber socks warm the flapjack crocodile, and yet, where is the passion? When a pirate jumps on his mother, or a policeman houses his parrot, can they not just pay the photographer and sway with their bleating taxidermy? Let your laughing vampire dance with the nail-crafter, and, I beg you, do not ignore the fishermen of late. Of course, they know, far too well, the feeling of cold fur and wet eyes against their alveoli. And when the fateful day comes, whence the tree of justice shoots the black dog of combustion with one foaming bullet, we will all wish we had listened to to lowly stationairy salesman and eaten the carrots for him, not cast them into the abyss, over the cliff in Lynton Meadows. Shrivelled thumbs are the sign of a cough and coughing induces the emu's peck. When the peck occurs, we know that our lips will listen to the call of the judge, and ask your neighbour for the saucer. But at the end of the day, when it's all over, we will be thankful for the green bacon and only dread the next time the crystal sings.
Super Duck, that was awesome!
Where does water get off, being so obnoxiously wet? thought the beleaguered wildcat as he sought alimony from the widower's wife. Of course, everyone worth a pound of fried squid knows that 7-Up is bad for your couch. But did that stop the unhurried advance of the marching piano tutors, complete with little red bows and miniature radial tires? "No, not at all!" shouted the astronaut into the depths of the shallows of the Thames river. After all, only thrice in a lifetime does one sequester the North Star to call upon the greatness that is not Kevin Bacon. Hey, did somebody mention bacon...?
Cheese off your earlobe, sally.