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  #661  
Old 2nd May 2017, 12:55 PM
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Voltairine Voltairine is offline
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version
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What, indeed, is an atheist? He is one who destroys delusions which are harmful to humanity in order to lead men back to nature, to reality, to reason. Baron d'Holbach

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If we go back to the beginnings of things, we shall always find that ignorance and fear created the gods; that imagination, rapture and deception embellished them; that weakness worships them; that custom spares them; and that tyranny favours them in order to profit from the blindness of men. Baron d'Holbach
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  #662  
Old 2nd May 2017, 01:01 PM
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The Irreverent Mr Black The Irreverent Mr Black is offline
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version which previously adorned
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  #663  
Old 4th May 2017, 05:11 PM
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version which previously adorned Adonis, while hunting
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  #664  
Old 5th May 2017, 06:29 PM
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version which previously adorned Adonis, while hunting his absolute favourite
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What, indeed, is an atheist? He is one who destroys delusions which are harmful to humanity in order to lead men back to nature, to reality, to reason. Baron d'Holbach

_____

If we go back to the beginnings of things, we shall always find that ignorance and fear created the gods; that imagination, rapture and deception embellished them; that weakness worships them; that custom spares them; and that tyranny favours them in order to profit from the blindness of men. Baron d'Holbach
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  #665  
Old 11th September 2017, 06:36 PM
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version which previously adorned Adonis, while hunting his absolute favourite aphrodisiac.

Jupiter sat
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  #666  
Old 11th September 2017, 06:42 PM
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The Irreverent Mr Black The Irreverent Mr Black is offline
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version which previously adorned Adonis, while hunting his absolute favourite aphrodisiac.

Jupiter sat earnin' your anus
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  #667  
Old 11th September 2017, 10:24 PM
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Strato Strato is offline
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version which previously adorned Adonis, while hunting his absolute favourite aphrodisiac.

Jupiter sat earnin' your anus, degraded into perdition
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In The Blank Slate Steven Pinker negates the credo .
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  #668  
Old 11th September 2017, 10:27 PM
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The Irreverent Mr Black The Irreverent Mr Black is offline
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version which previously adorned Adonis, while hunting his absolute favourite aphrodisiac.

Jupiter sat earnin' your anus, degraded into perdition by earthy venereal
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  #669  
Old 12th September 2017, 08:06 PM
Strato's Avatar
Strato Strato is offline
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Location: The Bellarine, Geelong.
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version which previously adorned Adonis, while hunting his absolute favourite aphrodisiac.

Jupiter sat earnin' your anus, degraded into perdition by earthy venereal trombone blowing economists
__________________
Life Sucks Then You Die - The Fools.
In The Blank Slate Steven Pinker negates the credo .
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  #670  
Old 26th September 2017, 05:18 PM
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two dogs two dogs is offline
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Default Re: Three word story

Quizzically, the demon known as Ratzinger, lifted his miniskirted assistant to the corporation of corrupt mud, her bishop's queen rooking the gullible of nights of porn, a stalemate of kings 'n' peasants, sharks 'n' fakirs, and whirling dervishes spinning two dogs. Kerberos was in RADIUS of saltatory CATS ACting badly while Cerberus was in three minds off Black Rock between Scylla and bar shy Cid, a dim male cephalopod sporting enormous hectocotyls.

Moving waves at the focus of sugar island, then waves at the Black Beauty of Sugar Island whose Black Sugar caused happy nightmares using a banana and some string cunningly woven to resemble soft vanilla scented studded flagellatory acolytes of some palsied dynastic misfit with cold chisel's "Best of" blasting away forever. Now the breakfast menu at Sweethearts made Jesus Christ horny as a moose, hot 'n' juicy, "I love Lucy". In the sky a malevolent ochre gumboot fluttered blissfully, like house bricks don't enjoy swimming among yellow matter custard which I forgot to remember me among the variegated pittosporums.

Wasted words containing spent syllables by expendable characters regarding worthless texts, such as the "Three Word Story", farrago of flatulent feculent fun for failed philosophy flailers felicitously fingering furry fiends found felching philandering physiognomists phoning far-flung friends for futile fun, frequently fooling fundamentalists, sashaying towards rhinos while aardvarks tango to a rhumba in 3:4 time unlike Daphnis & Chloe or the Simpsons pets. Annoyingly loud Rundle Street Mall touts for jeebus, while corn loops, horny as bulls, fantasize fellating god, your sperm's in the nethermost freezing, where the swelling sounds of choirs, and organs, wheezing, belching and groaning, boner aching, dangling participles just hanging around umlauts with a cute accent and aggravated colonitis.

Life, love, and music, they are three nouns. Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls are Rock & Hudson (with a aitch) loved his Nabors Gym. No sperms in the pines heard the tree wise (Irish) monkeys wrenching their nuts and dried fruits, as Sultan Saladin, Meme of Malabar, Nabob of Negativism, Oligarch of Obscurantism, Pope of Paedophilia, Qu'ranic Queen, Dancing In The Dark dank dungeons of the dread Dodo docent, Deirdre Doolittle, whose deliciously deliquescent donuts dried out doing double duty during dubious, disturbing dung-distribution dances, designed delicately down dank, dirty dungeons.

Speaking of circular (Look! A bird!) de-railing methods applied mathematically focus elliptically shaped conic sections in non-euclidian topography with raisins in the preantepenultimate gedankenexperiment, wherein gestalten lumpenproletriat eat raisins in a missing oil-flask did beseach the aforementioned bird to wax lyrical, cawing in ways reminiscent of Albinoni's "Adagio" played under water on a Theremin built for two.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Archer, disguised as a tall, leopardskin-clad lapdancer, came off in the outside of a pantomime horse. "If only all... #$%**&^!! politicians were "Sorry", sorry, sorry!, and easily beaten until frothy, with hopeless frugality, then I awoke to a tall duck and handsome cab with operatic tenners to spend a penny before maidens pedalling furiously on tiny unicycles with fat bottomed girls rhapsodising about Bohemian heaven for everyone wearing bell-bottomed leather chin-straps in unexpected places on plaice.

Placatingly, plump, pleasant ptarmigans become de-rigeur when alliteration arises and benefits brobdingnagian bards' lilting lilliputian lyrics ululating unction up while wavering woefully, yet Yahoos yodelling scarily scatological sound-bites created complete cacophony disturbing dastardly ducks from foul fumblings, tremulously touching titillating lumps laid lasciviously 'mid mammiferous mounds encouraging erogenous excitement and arousing areolars, exciting ephemerally epiphanous vestigial vaginas.

Verily, and forsooth, it verified Anne Forsyth's three-pronged attack on the Trident on Neptune's Maserati Mistral, blown asunder when it dropped its bottom end on a potato while hanging curtains in the nuddy; it was muddy, Kev was ruddy, on his selection of virginal male he had no end to meet, being hung like the worthless varmint, hornswoggled by lollygagging.

Yes, the lollygaggeringisation neologism staggered many a neophyte linguist among cunning nymphs and mandrophonical Kharstufengelts, the ranK slugfest continued in errancy, like biblical texts and politician's promises to entrance lobsters and boggle bi-valves by osculating octopussies, squicking with squids in lime. If naughty nauseous nautiluses could cuddle cuttlefish then thespian theropods would welcome winkles, preferring poikilothermic polychaetes. "Que?" quoth Quasimodo; oo, sad quim swived in flagrante factoring sot-weed, the Maryland cook read horrid novels in squalid hovels behind the green bays, snookered by a red ball, the other being green, not easy discernible due to badly grammar.

Aaron, a G-string, fugued by recursion, barked at the incessant whinging of the abused oboes stringing out wasps in factory-fresh banks of clanging percussion onomatopoeically: "Blissssh! Blissssh!" over Okie plains. Haggard geek muso and retired decathlete, traded "the erectile arm", a nag unworthy of backing, swaybacked and spavined, for a sleek, salacious, sensuous, substitute, swollen sex-sossidge, strapped by sequined leather, tethered, then feathered, beveled, leveled, disheveled on a kevel. Aaaah, she sighed, laughing with languid lasciviousness, flirting flagitiously, fornicating fabulously, and missing her oil-flask with rubber studded tastelessness, undressing vivaciously while Xeno yawned zanily.

Zulu youths in photo booths mugged and gurned their plasticine like gums, waxing lycrally, intentionally misspelling tory, a moss piano and wheelie bin laden with trash and self indulgence, not self-awareness. It was overstuffed, filled with gas, and orange juice. Frozen, Peter stared at the footbag just for kicks while the bin contrarily stared back, musing on experience but baffled nonetheless.

Phoning a friend, asking a team-mate named Kev-the-rev, the over-excited jack-in-a-box eagerly ate chicken-in-a-basket at Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio gogogoch being closed to lexically challenged America's cup yachts by Bob Miller, while Commodores buttoned badges, engineered to shiny, polished opels.

Cliffs and ridges, rolling with stones wired for sound got no satisfaction under the boardwalk, walking the dog a moonlight mile, around and around the last time. Mother's little helper rode wild horses on Ruby Tuesday, like a rainbow not fading away, too late to start me up The Khyber. Carry on another land where emotional rescue of James, Jacques Cousteau glowing from diving Bikini Atoll gurgled La Marseillaise, singing "Here, Rover" whenever opportunity presented a curious insight presented by Jenny, while Peter raced Phil's split pin around Cotter Dam with castellated nuts out of sheer joy.

Division of Peter's bass hook added multiple negative numbers, integral to his repeated attempts to resurrect this three-day stale pail of pale ale on sale causing whales to wail and lob-tail, to no avail for the bale, e'en though kale as a sail, doomed to fail like shale rails in male gaols speaking in gael, as icy gales swept hale aardvarks abruptly across adrift aeroplankton, afraid agreeable aediles approach anger after announcing accounting absolutely agitated aliens.

Buoyed by buxom blonde Bavarian bassists, Cypriot cellists challenged cerebrally cauterised chiropractors claiming concinnous connections channeled c/o clairvoyant mediums, large and smallgoods-fancying plainsmen, and tiny teddies were messily eaten stir-fried with chilli, butterscotch, and goo. Lies were told, egos were stroked, muffins were baked until their crusts turned into cats of exquisite beauty. Rich and rare, poor and fair, the muffins were a disaster.

Meanwhile, Peter was busily attempting to upend an auspicious looking hand-carved antique he had bought from a suspicious dealer with small testicles. The antique was a nut-cracker with impressive credentials hand-carved from humpback baleen using unusable backing hemp hewn by hunchbacks both malodorous and ambrosial. Depicted upon the hairy back hoe driver's licence an embossed relief of a midget, wrestling with an obnoxious looking elephant, reminded Peter that he was robbed of his fluffy green Hippopotamus toy that his uncle had made love to. Peter always thought slowly and with steadily increasing monotonic sounds that resinated deep within his prepubescent brain.

Nevertheless, as noted by the enigmatic Hitchens, atheism tHence itching, but nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow. Full songs, composed by a polished musician, the beeswax softening the humming sound of squeaking leatherette microphones phallicly collapsing into an obscene gargoyle of Fisher, Hamill and Ford.

The Prefect bent the imperfect ruler of the prefecture perpendicular to the ponderous penguin pendulously begarbed in fetching silken tights adorned by cosmetic devices. The penguin spoke, softly, and with three small aubergines tied to the end of his fascinating, bejewelled, pulsating, and shiny new - though somewhat dishevelled - reproduction of the original Venusian version which previously adorned Adonis, while hunting his absolute favourite aphrodisiac.

Jupiter sat earnin' your anus, degraded into perdition by earthy venereal trombone blowing economist, marring, you know,
__________________
"Ridicule is the only weapon which can be used against unintelligible propositions. Ideas must be distinct before reason can act upon them; ..."

"
Beer, if drunk with moderation, softens the temper, cheers the spirit and promotes health."
Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826)

"Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it."

Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
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