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and THAT'S when i shouted 'jenga.'

post #1 of 8
Thread Starter 
"Joanna Gregory's abridged production of Grease was a disappointing mess of poor choreography, unsynchronized melodies, and forgotten lines; also, my neutered chihuahua orgasms with a stuffed Donald Duck more convincingly than Danny Zuko was portrayed by your son, Joey DiMarco, whom you should drop off at Chuck E. Cheese's at 2 p.m. for Ronald's birthday party. In conclusion, goodbye."
post #2 of 8
What the fuck?

Jon.
post #3 of 8
Quote:
Originally Posted by imageWIS
What the fuck?

Jon.

Jon, relax and take a toke of that joint Ken's avatar is passing you. Then all will be revealed.
post #4 of 8
Quote:
Originally Posted by Nantucket Red
Jon, relax and take a toke of that joint Ken's avatar is passing you. Then all will be revealed.

Yeah...no. People have to A) get off the drugs, B) at least post something half-assed on the forum. It doesn't have to be full-assed, but we already have one no-ass idiot (John April) and that's one too many.

Jon.
post #5 of 8
Did anyone gasp when Tucker Carlson dropped his clippy bow tie into his upside down bunny-shaped cake, after buying his Yugo, which was apparently made in the country known as Morroco whereupon a commodious being emerged, shouting Fuk! and dropped dead--like a Raymond Carver happy moment. And that is why, children, Babbitts never make a good cake for they run past eve and adam from swerve of shore to bend of bay brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howard Stern.
post #6 of 8
the sun of summer is not just shining down on us; it is among us, following us from sandy bloomed beaches into air conditional church restrooms in seats of urban delight. it is in such places where a boy, barely sixteen, can take a holy bible into the toilet for comfort reading.

all goes well for awhile: no one dallies around the cramped boys' restroom in the basement - it may be chilled to a springtime cool, but the summer sewer water mixes with restroom defecation to produce a fertile fragrance. so, our hypothetical boy does not get caught - no one intrudes on the seasonal confluence of tissue, sunken trousers, a boy, and the holy book.

but after some time, say, a month or two from whence this make believe situation began, there happens to be an elder gentleman waiting outside the bathroom stalls with a red soap bucket. he is the neighbourhood cleaner/plumber - a member of the church. reports have trickled in that certain numbers are appearing in the boys' painted white bathroom stalls. satan's numbers, scribbled with a black sharpie.

zounds! our boy sees cream suds dripping, and trailing, closer. he can hear the iron walls flaking from the older man's grunts and wholesome sweat falling with the soap; the book trembles on his growing thighs whose young hairs are erecting; there are only six stalls, he's getting closer, ever closer, by the breath - no!

the boy opens to the end of the book on his lap and copies the number before cleaning up.
post #7 of 8
Jello is actually a wild animal in nature. They inhabit a remote country in south america. They are hunted, however it is not with guns. You see, bullets pass straight through jello. The only effective weapon against this strange breed is a gun shaped cookie. One throws the cookie at the animal and prays it hits it. If contact is made, the creature begins to dissolve, and is collected by game hunters and sold to the gelatin companys. Through a process unknown even by me, the liguid is transformed into a powder. That is why jello is not eaten by some vegetarians. Thank god I don't smoke pot anymore.
post #8 of 8
Press 1 for Chocolate, 2 for Peanut Butter.

Press 1 for Chocolate, 2 for Peanut Butter.
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