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Strange very strange .......
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07-02-2001 10:02pm#1The Fallowing is the creation of me and a m8 of mine during a 3 hour geography leacture the leacture sucked but this is well weird so erm enjoy
Porridge chunky goodness kit-kat insert in crack addicts mouth spunky goodness gracious me!!!. From down there in the deep recesses of the holy dump lay a brand spanking new lada , free with 1.5 tokens from semtex.
It was a communist car with 15 steering wheels but only 2 seats designed for fat people who have no arms legs or self esteem. There is a bfg in the boot camp situated near old trafford. Sadly no petrol bombs available due to Jenny's leprosy. Which had evolved into a small dog named Pete the Pirate rabbit molester he didn't have a head but had 15 legs and therefore a communist dog. He happily drove us to the kettle which was guarded by 2 large green demonic rabbits and there friend Binty the doormat. Botrus Botrus Gally was making coffee monsters from children and Mexican drug barons toasters, enveloped by a large Mexican hat with a rebel flag on top just like Drola the communist dogs hat. Everyone began dancing around Botrus chanting "BOTRUS BOTRUS" and were as happy as a BOOM!BOOM!CRASH!WHALLOP!OOH my mop.
Boris Yelson appeared with a large candy floss slapped to his newly programmed bum. Borus sucked up the lada and vomited forth the proud town of Rectum-Ville which was filled with dwarfs called Fred Durst and Tipsy J. Hooley who immediately were eaten by the demonic rabbits and there rabid hot dogs of doom.
"Hi I'm Guybrush Threepwood", No the other one the astronaught with the broom.
"Erm I'm selling these fine leather jackets" said Boris as the leather jackets started to cry tears of sulphur which melted the ground to reveal a fair ground containing a large roller coaster made entirely from cheese and biscuits. A demonic skull named murry screamed " THE CHILDREN HAVE DISCOVERED THE THIRD EYE AND ARE FLOODING DOWN THE TYBAR" "I'm selling these fine leather jackets made from barrels.
Huck Finn and Jim appeared and discussed the morals of southern society...... the dead poets society notorious for their massive drug use and whoring."OH ME OH MY" screamed Murry as they drilled a burrito into his tapioca like brain.Out poped Manny Calaveria "I'll have a leather jacket".
Then the lucasArts lawyers began to amputate limbs at random from Gar and Eamonn for their copyright infringment. But they made there way to inky island on the backs of the demonic rabbits.
Meanwhile in the alien attack cottage Duke Nukem was enjoying a spiff and some jam.
And Dustin Hoffman came out of the kettle for wearing a balaclava, a G-string and a lamp post. Waving a M-16 and shouting to ALLAH.
MARSHA MARSHA MARSHA!!!!! This ****ed off the aliens who were having tea with the crew of the enterprise minister for Russia. Who drove to the kettle in a car with 15 steering wheels.Then something strange happened.....
The spout of the kettle began to spit Napalm dead and Terry's chocolate agent orange. Both hit the Sugar poof monster who ignited and burned down the town as Professor Wheat had predicted larger than usual Sugar poof revenge on the kettle, and he would've gotten away with it to if wasn't for those kids and that pesky dog. Who gave them indigestion. And as everyone knows dogs are laxatives.
Meanwhile Donuts lead his subs to Tesco. Who attempted to ravage the locals first born daughters and there furbies.
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.
Jim likes jam. See Jim run. Run Jim Run. Jim likes to run. Darth Vader saw him jump. No one expects the Spanish inquisition. It happens to all jumpers made from cotton candy like yelsons.
Boris began to spin at light speed as they all danced around. This caused a change in the earths gravity and as a result the moon landed off the coast of Margaret Tharcher who noticed it was made from cheese. Tony Blair ate his own face , don't know why just taught I'd mention it. This caused Bill Clinton to spin at the speed of light, take off and land long side the man on the moon aka Skippy the Kangaroo.
For some odd reason the guy next to us was copying out notes
.
Strange ain't it.
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<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">
Then something strange happened.....
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Nicely placed, that...
Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted. -Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968)0 -
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<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Originally posted by Bard:
is it genius? Is it complete boll0cks?
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I dont think it really needs to be pointed out that was rhetoric. I daresay the text in question was not however. Charming attempt<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">
From dictionary.com:
rhet·o·ric (rtr-k)
n. Abbr. rhet.
The art or study of using language effectively and persuasively.
A treatise or book discussing this art.
Skill in using language effectively and persuasively.
A style of speaking or writing, especially the language of a particular subject: fiery political rhetoric.
Language that is elaborate, pretentious, insincere, or intellectually vacuous: His offers of compromise were mere rhetoric.
Verbal communication; discourse.
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One day, Owlman was VERY gently skipping through the fields of corn out his back garden. Today was a very special day for Owlman. Today was the 15th anniversary. Suddenly, Boy Vupline rang him on his Owlphone...
"Great banana's!", shouted Boy Vulpine. He always got excited on a Monday. This being the first Monday of the week he was especially incontinent, what with the events of the past few days and all. Owlman casually gave his reply. "AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGH, MY TITS!!!", he screamed with joy and slammed the phone into his mouth, as per usual. With that an unholy sound came from the bagel-bush in Owlman's garden. He went over to have a closer look....
As peered cautiously into the bagel-bush, he was horrified to find his arch-nemesis, "Prof. Haemophiliac", furiously masturbating with reckless abandon, baptising Owlman's germaniums by squirting silver strands of scrotal secretions everywhere. This was Owlman's chance. He could do but one thing at this junction...
With great poise and skill, he deftly grabbed "Prof. Haemophiliac" by the banjo and catapulted him into the thorniest daisy he could see. There was a sharp painful "SNAP!" as the Prof's banjo saw that it had put down a matching card. "Mrs. Baker" was on the card engaging in an auto-sodomic ritual involving Owlman who looked very sheepish all of a sudden. Then, suddenly, from out of nowhere......
...the carnival arrived. Owlman squealed with glee, like a tiny retarded girl, and clapped his hands together enthusiastically. In fact, he was SO distracted, that he didn't realised the Prof. limping away into the twilight. He also didn't realise that 4 days had passed, and that he was ridden with urine, faeces, vomit and blood, and was near-exhaustion due to lack of sleep, food and drink. The bones and muscles in his thighs and calfs were rendered completley useless, just hanging from his hips like rotten meat, and also he had gone completely blind as his cornea had contracted vicious infections from his being wide-eyed for 96 hours.
But all of this time, Manowl had been hiding away in the storeroom of HMV on Grafton St. plotting his revenge on Owlman and his family who years ago, had brutally had a party and not invited him. Despite the fact that they had only once met at an Irish match in Lansdowne Rd. Well "met" as in he saw their pasty gay faces from across the South stand where Jack Charlton was once caught hitting a sign with his fibula. Manowl had been living in that storeroom for 2 years now and was getting hungry as they had run out of "How Bizarre" by OMC cds, which had formed his staple diet since it came out back in the Cretaceous Era. But what Manowl REALLY loved to do was.....
...to journey to McAllisters Garage early on a Friday morning. There, he would meet up with his secret object of his affection, Amandra. He loved Amandra, because he couldn't forget that sexy strut she put on just for him. "10 Silk Cut Purple, babycakes..." he whisked. "Manowl!" a voice screeched at him from behind. He knew that voice. He felt whispy facial hair rub against the back of his neck. He knew THAT, also. He also knew that strange smell, a concotion of oxtail soup and TCP. It could only be one person. It was current girlfriend: Nuala Hoops....
Nuala Hoops caught him by the scruff of his pubes and tossed him into "The cigarette room". Once there he saw that there was a huge little fairy poised for a babality on Jesus. Manowl quickly journeyed to the land of enormous ****s where he found himself, literally. Amandra, aka Amandra, grabbed his tiny statuette of Owlman that he had been using for Voodoo and sexual purposes and left it lying under her uterus for 2 days. Until now Manowl had never thought of Amandra this way, that was until he saw her pubescent........
......gait. She had always had an awkward demeanour, but latley Manowl had been getting suspicious of Amdandra. That ambling strut of hers was lasting far too long for simple osteoporosis. "There must be something else to it..." he thought. Later that evening, whilst basking in post-coital glory(as it were), Manowl slyly lifted up the duvet to take a glance at Amandra's love handles. He noticed a tiny little button that said "DO NOT PRESS". In the interest of a good storyline, he chose to ignore this order. He pressed the button. Amandra cracked and fizzled and he noticed that a kind of chassis opened from the crack of her ass, reavealing a secret compartment with lots of handy things in it such as tape measure, a hairbrush, and a pair of really good scissors. Oh, and the pointy part of the vacuum cleaner too. But by far the most interesting object that lay in the bewildered bowels was....
The original copy of "The Hairdresser's Bible". This was much the same as the more popular "Holy Bible" except in it, Jesus was an aspiring young ballerina who dreamed of being on "Countdown". In the end he dies of a heroin overdose after becoming addicted to New-Age music in France. Manowl saw this as his chance to make it big in the soft cheese industry and set about formulating plans for his next gruesome attack on the Mare of Europe. Elsewhere, Owlman had forgotten the whole point of his existence and ceased existing. "I'm glad that's over!", he said after returning from holidays in Greece. Out of nowhere, a Ukrainian postman produced a bunch of flowers and handed them to Amandra who quickly devoured the lot. Nuala Hoops noticed this and felt green with envy. Green let out a scream, but envy was turned on being used like a cheap feeling tool. As if it could get any more ridiculous, there was an electric..............
...currant. "Ow!" screamed Nuala Hoops, bewildered as to how such a precarious dried fruit had concealed itself amidst its fraternal sultanas and raisins, deep in the milk-bowels of her early-evening Alpen. She also wondered why it didn't discharge as soon as she poured the milk in. And also, why Alpen didn't taste like Alpen anymore, and more like corroded steel bolts and reconstituted gills. Oh well, it sure beat munching through weeks of those old chinese newspapers. "I'll never buy Alpen and Kwik-Fit again!" she vowed dangerously. With that, a hat. And that was that. Soon after communists had taken over Mr. Molloys "secret" office and replaced all the furniture with sunbeds, Mr. Molloy crept out of his "secret" hiding place, which was in the toilet, quivering like a rotting, dangling appendage in a thunderstorm, and began taping lark's quills to his head. Then he rushed down to the breakfast table and screamed: "Who wants to have breakfast at Edger Allen Poes house?". Then he realised that his family hadn't lived in his house for nigh on 5 years now, and with this, Mr. Molloy began sobbing, weeping and occasionally conjuring too, as he skipped joyously up towards the bathroom again. But on his way upstairs, he noticed just how....
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alright the next piece :
....much those Angolan mercenaries who were camped under the stairs had grown. How nutricious deep-pile carpet must seem, he thought, but he was awoken from his ether-driven stupor by the ringing of the bells he had attached the the fat ankles of his pet pig Maire. She was a wily old devil and he needed to be able to hear her as she tried to rob his smokes when the lights went out. It was a darkness you found only in the depths of a cold water aquarium on a bad Tuesday in May, but then Owlman was quite aware of the fact that Elvis Presly was no giraffe. A gold plated roundsaw came in very during tense times like these and Owlman was no toothfairy and besides Manowl had already eaten the rest of the toast. Owlman's goose was cooked, and he knew it. Just as was he was about to go down in a ball of flames, he and Nuala Hoops had a staring contest, and it was then that he realised there was only one thing for it... but the question was could he actually afford liposuction. He quickly untied......0 -
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