Editing Round 32 Three Word Story
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== Part One == | == Part One == | ||
| − | + | ```"Conte de trois mots"``` | |
| − | Our story begins, as most stories do, with a simple French speaking poet known as the 'loup de guerre' in wealthy circles. In other circles, he was known as the great canard boiteux. Often, whilst canning vegetables in the moonlight with Old Greg he would recite Molière's Don Juan wearing nothing but gloves and mask to do the task. "Three words, fool!" Compter est difficile those three that's how we play. | + | :Our story begins, as most stories do, with a simple French speaking poet known as the 'loup de guerre' in wealthy circles. In other circles, he was known as the great canard boiteux. Often, whilst canning vegetables in the moonlight with Old Greg he would recite Molière's Don Juan wearing nothing but gloves and mask to do the task. "Three words, fool!" Compter est difficile those three that's how we play. |
The poet ran through the graveyard wearing a silly rainbow wig and singing loudly: Que Sera Sera what will I do without my brave Spartan soldiers. Suddenly, a wild Kevin Spacey appeared and rudely requested a spank on the troll's ass while smashing the large purple jelly through a jagged outline of the Pope, carved into the shape of another Pope. However the condom broke a white substance shot out from the side of the tear, hitting his buddy who died instantly from the smell of rotten eggs and green ham, Sam Malone the bartender. Well, that escalated into quite the cocktail. If only gloryhole moments would come more often than black friday. | The poet ran through the graveyard wearing a silly rainbow wig and singing loudly: Que Sera Sera what will I do without my brave Spartan soldiers. Suddenly, a wild Kevin Spacey appeared and rudely requested a spank on the troll's ass while smashing the large purple jelly through a jagged outline of the Pope, carved into the shape of another Pope. However the condom broke a white substance shot out from the side of the tear, hitting his buddy who died instantly from the smell of rotten eggs and green ham, Sam Malone the bartender. Well, that escalated into quite the cocktail. If only gloryhole moments would come more often than black friday. | ||
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== Part Two == | == Part Two == | ||
| − | + | ```"A story is a story is a story"``` | |
One upon a THE END. FIN. Endings, are beginnings that are ending. Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end. Has to be in the fridge. Which once held her prisoner for days while Kamino cried because his fridge was full of dead neglected yamaguccis. A funeral was not possible, because the fridge broke then Kamino cried a whole river of Kamino's tears which became a boiling river of judgement. "This is madness!" says the angry, clearly drunken hobo? No, hobgoblin can't be drunk on love but drunk on gems given by the all seeing eye but is blinded by the painful solar flare from lack of grammar. Grammar is overrated. Solar flares HATE cold fridges because icekins are overpowered thanks to freons! Fortunately, Ice King James, was a respected professor of theoretical rectal cryogenics utilizing fridges. | One upon a THE END. FIN. Endings, are beginnings that are ending. Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end. Has to be in the fridge. Which once held her prisoner for days while Kamino cried because his fridge was full of dead neglected yamaguccis. A funeral was not possible, because the fridge broke then Kamino cried a whole river of Kamino's tears which became a boiling river of judgement. "This is madness!" says the angry, clearly drunken hobo? No, hobgoblin can't be drunk on love but drunk on gems given by the all seeing eye but is blinded by the painful solar flare from lack of grammar. Grammar is overrated. Solar flares HATE cold fridges because icekins are overpowered thanks to freons! Fortunately, Ice King James, was a respected professor of theoretical rectal cryogenics utilizing fridges. | ||
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== Part ThReE == | == Part ThReE == | ||
| − | + | ```"Rule of Three (Part Three of the Three Word Story)"``` | |
You Are Sick shouted the midwife at the father of the mother of Koopa's clown, and then attacked the uncle of Santa's elf, Tito. You forgot to cast Plague on your mother, Trebek and for that you must eat this sandwich, made from the juicy pickled titties of a pregnant sloth which toss salads. Every. Single. Day. Then drink this human bean juice brewed from orphans. Orphans are people too. Don't believe the media, they will sell you mushrooms disguised as genuine hard proof that the earth is flat, or hollow inside. Also that birds are in fact holograms and also flat But not as emotionally damaging as learning that Santa is a fake and wears crocs while smashing your mom's analogy of milf hedonism and constant dirty euphemisms like: Santa can stuff my stocking full with his enormous, throbbing, glistening, wrapping paper tube ho ho ho! | You Are Sick shouted the midwife at the father of the mother of Koopa's clown, and then attacked the uncle of Santa's elf, Tito. You forgot to cast Plague on your mother, Trebek and for that you must eat this sandwich, made from the juicy pickled titties of a pregnant sloth which toss salads. Every. Single. Day. Then drink this human bean juice brewed from orphans. Orphans are people too. Don't believe the media, they will sell you mushrooms disguised as genuine hard proof that the earth is flat, or hollow inside. Also that birds are in fact holograms and also flat But not as emotionally damaging as learning that Santa is a fake and wears crocs while smashing your mom's analogy of milf hedonism and constant dirty euphemisms like: Santa can stuff my stocking full with his enormous, throbbing, glistening, wrapping paper tube ho ho ho! | ||
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== Part Four == | == Part Four == | ||
| − | + | ```"Fantastic (part) Four!"``` | |
Nowadays, we remember like the North but the south forgot, which is why the west headed east for the best feast of charred corpses and salty tears. The best recipe for a good pasta is completely unknowable if your cognition is above average. So Einstein invented Italians so that Arabs would never feel alone when eating wet celery and looking in their neighbors’ mailboxes for some delectable Kevin’s chilli recipe leftovers. If they taste anything like rat burgers with Ivetza’s secret sauce then no one would stop eating like a messy cyborg pig with asthma. Coincidentally this was a huge coinciding incident with two things happening simultaneously by coincidence. Meanwhile, Ivetza accidentally won the round. | Nowadays, we remember like the North but the south forgot, which is why the west headed east for the best feast of charred corpses and salty tears. The best recipe for a good pasta is completely unknowable if your cognition is above average. So Einstein invented Italians so that Arabs would never feel alone when eating wet celery and looking in their neighbors’ mailboxes for some delectable Kevin’s chilli recipe leftovers. If they taste anything like rat burgers with Ivetza’s secret sauce then no one would stop eating like a messy cyborg pig with asthma. Coincidentally this was a huge coinciding incident with two things happening simultaneously by coincidence. Meanwhile, Ivetza accidentally won the round. | ||
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== Part Five == | == Part Five == | ||
| − | + | ```"FIIIIIIIVE GOOOOOOOLD RIIIIIINGS (but still only three words)"``` | |
“Merry Christmas!” hollered the filthy animal “I’ll give you” he confusingly continued “To the count…” he paused tantalizingly in the hands of Robert Wadlow “Of five… magic” “mutant marauders might” “make many mistakes”. Indeed they did, the first being that silly thing between the legs of a cockatoo colloquially known as a tiny egg. Meanwhile, over in Florence Pugh’s dungeon, a five pages essay was reduced to ruins and despair by the loss of the virgin Mary’s newborn child named Felipe Grundy. Who was a devout atheist baby those days? | “Merry Christmas!” hollered the filthy animal “I’ll give you” he confusingly continued “To the count…” he paused tantalizingly in the hands of Robert Wadlow “Of five… magic” “mutant marauders might” “make many mistakes”. Indeed they did, the first being that silly thing between the legs of a cockatoo colloquially known as a tiny egg. Meanwhile, over in Florence Pugh’s dungeon, a five pages essay was reduced to ruins and despair by the loss of the virgin Mary’s newborn child named Felipe Grundy. Who was a devout atheist baby those days? | ||