The never-ending story in three word segments...

[Robert Hughes]

yelled three delinquents,

[Night Owl]

yelled three delinquents,

 

covered in ink

 

[Lloyd]

and smelling of

[ToasterPastry]

...gangrenous abdominal evisceration

[ToughHouseRook]

Which wasn't peculiar.

[DanF]

in this setting

 

Dan

[Lloyd]

The Potatoheads ate

[Robert Hughes]

three square meals,

[robeck]

not circular ones,

[Lloyd]

primarily sliced velveeta,

[Robert Hughes]

with marinara sauce,

[ToasterPastry]

with side salad.

[gyasko]

Insolent endive choked

[Lloyd]

pleas emanated from

[ToasterPastry]

ToasterPastry's midget sidekick.

[Robert Hughes]

"I gotta go!"

[tawanda]

"Where?" you ask.

[pmorin]

Once there was a fountain pen with magical properties. One of those was to never run out of the best quality glossy black ink. Ink made of liquidized camel droppings and prepared by Toasterpastry's midget sidekick also known as the ink man. Then one day, the unthinkable happened. The pen's master, evil apprentice Nibnomore played lacrosse with Toasterpastry's midget sidekick, who broke his camel dropping liquidizer which resulted in the beginning of an ink shortage of epic proportions throughout the land, people had to shamefully beg for ink gravied potatoes to squeeze the said potatoes in a wet sack.

 

Then someone realized the magical properties of the ink had worn off. Suddenly, foul-smelling cheese from Nibnomore's lunch melted to form Noodler's Cheez Whiz, odd yellow ink that clogged pens. But magical drops of Pinot Noir almost instantly formed a bubbly concoction tickling and inebriating all the senses including the sixth..., the Written One; grasping dagger, rose. A young inkmaker, who was colorblind, unknowingly discovered that imbibing the ink caused one's head to severely implode! Emitting a greenish little Martian, who despite the fact of his small and odd shaped eyeglasses, could see red ripple watermans! Confused, he asked "how to sleep??!?!"

 

Strange dreams morphed Fort Madison mourners into fountainpen armed visored scriveners writing a devilish plan one which would alleviate the lack Of Love's dance a distant threnody played on kazoo "STOP IT NOW!" sang the chrous as rain fell Slowly the rain upon the moor. Legend has it that one can kiss me tomorrow. he sky is... a purple haze as we wait for the inevitable delivery of pizza. Square, cold pizza and, naturally, beer like Mamma made from organic barley and Chinook hops from the western-most regions of the Snowdonia mountains except, Mamma's beer had the effect of numbing your writing hand and left leg entirely but not unenjoyably as it always caused uncontrollable hallucinations when staring into deep pools of marinara sauce with meatballs on top due to allergies and sauce stains.

 

When the delivery was opened by... Mr. Potato Head he promptly fainted. Mrs. Potatohead screamed! "Too many carbs!!!!" pass the sauce yelled three delinquents, covered in ink and smelling of ...gangrenous abdominal evisceration Which wasn't peculiar. in this setting The Potatoheads ate three square meals, not circular ones, primarily sliced velveeta, with marinara sauce, with side salad. Insolent endive choked pleas emanated from ToasterPastry's midget sidekick.

 

"I gotta go!"

 

"Where?" you ask.

 

Tell you what,

Edited February 11, 2009 by pmorin

[Michael W]

information forthcoming will

[Hoarder68]

give you all