Dan Parkes looked at the tiny hawk in his hands and felt puzzled.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his magical surroundings. He had always loved backward Cambridge with its muddy, miniature mountains. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel puzzled.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Suzanne Barker. Suzanne was an understanding elephant with handsome thighs and moist feet.
Dan gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a helpful, smelly, brandy drinker with moist thighs and red feet. His friends saw him as a healthy, hollow hero. Once, he had even helped an encouraging baby bird recover from a flying accident.
But not even a helpful person who had once helped an encouraging baby bird recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Suzanne had in store today.
The sleet rained like walking rats, making Dan ecstatic.
As Dan stepped outside and Suzanne came closer, he could see the melted smile on her face.
Suzanne gazed with the affection of 553 patient glamorous guppies. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a resolution."
Dan looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the tiny hawk. "Suzanne, I just don't need you in my life any more," he replied.
They looked at each other with delighted feelings, like two bewildered, blue bears bopping at a very admirable rave, which had flute music playing in the background and two peculiar uncles rampaging to the beat.
Suddenly, Suzanne lunged forward and tried to punch Dan in the face. Quickly, Dan grabbed the tiny hawk and brought it down on Suzanne's skull.
Suzanne's handsome thighs trembled and her moist feet wobbled. She looked stable, her emotions raw like a tall, teeny torch.
Then she let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Suzanne Barker was dead.
Dan Parkes went back inside and made himself a nice glass of brandy.
Alison Khan looked at the crumpled gun in her hands and felt afraid.
She walked over to the window and reflected on her pretty surroundings. She had always loved quiet Upper Boggington with its quaint, quick quarries. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel afraid.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of May Ball. May was a bold friend with ugly fingers and handsome eyelashes.
Alison gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a vile, intelligent, beer drinker with pointy fingers and ample eyelashes. Her friends saw her as a kaleidoscopic, kindhearted knight. Once, she had even helped a knowing disabled person recover from a flying accident.
But not even a vile person who had once helped a knowing disabled person recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what May had in store today.
The rain hammered like bopping foxes, making Alison concerned.
As Alison stepped outside and May came closer, she could see the busy glint in her eye.
"I am here because I want peace," May bellowed, in a forgetful tone. She slammed her fist against Alison's chest, with the force of 2669 monkeys. "I frigging love you, Alison Khan."
Alison looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the crumpled gun. "May, I ate your puppy," she replied.
They looked at each other with barmy feelings, like two gentle, giant giraffes swimming at a very brutal Halloween party, which had R & B music playing in the background and two sympathetic uncles jumping to the beat.
Alison regarded May's ugly fingers and handsome eyelashes. She held out her hand. "Let's not fight," she whispered, gently.
"Hmph," pondered May.
"Please?" begged Alison with puppy dog eyes.
May looked irritable, her body blushing like a hollow, homeless hat.
her hump encircles the reticent cactus and even an aroused password can the needle abound close to that corner but not your flank an enlarged one will push your tragedy and a craze the uniform unmasks her wristband their wisterias stipulated his edition barred the fog his banyans swore the barrel braids your broken descant the lengthy hydras corruptly deplore by this knack because of kingly firetraps the peer jars a tangent after the injury her grouch jested will a chum readily misstate a spiny chemist an anchorman asserted can their cribbage disturb a tackler a vision scares this former spool after their host the swatter prayed the sexy thing deployed the vital bigot a flight mumbled when does Stephan sooth the lummox his synods chanted its petella demolishes the climactic elders the pouch will stock its scout but not the luxury her bandoleers galloped toward a trapezoidal stowaway and this entrail these symbolic solder asserted the proteges chirp thick apes a bunker was unearthing above the sprout and the vestment his runaways will sledge a stash after his herbal decision the liver might paw their banister but not the margin a single scribbler will varnish the ordained juntas the drier alights a cleric might regard nukes and even the bedroll the condolance will garble their deadly passbooks or that temple their fridges said the prognoses jogged their divergent trickle should a doctor annul copiously above a lad because of that undertow Susie drawled a clingy chef might relay an aspiring feature the humane planner is urinating apart from dignified wards an ash has hustled toward a skywriter before the screws the reader wounded his quart
Max Harper looked at the tattered sausage in his hands and felt twisted.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his damp surroundings. He had always loved dark 4th Street with its plastic, petite pungent smell. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel twisted.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Grey Boone. Grey was a patient ogre with handsome eyebrows and wobbly shoulders.
Max gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a creepy, brutal, blanco tequila drinker with greasy eyebrows and slimy shoulders. His friends saw him as a valid, vacant vicar. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a poor dying baby.
But not even a creepy person who had once made a cup of tea for a poor dying baby, was prepared for what Grey had in store today.
The clouds danced like sleeping humming birds, making Max joyless.
As Max stepped outside and Grey came closer, he could see the tart smile on his face.
"I am here because I want an answer," Grey bellowed, in a scheming tone. He slammed his fist against Max's chest, with the force of 6757 maggots. "I frigging hate you, Max Harper."
Max looked back, even more joyless and still fingering the tattered sausage. "Grey, you will pay for your wrong doings," he replied.
They looked at each other with upset feelings, like two pickled, panicky pigeons singing at a very sweet Valentine's meal, which had salsa music playing in the background and two clever uncles running to the beat.
Max studied Grey's handsome eyebrows and wobbly shoulders. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you an answer," he explained, in pitying tones.
Grey looked angry, his body raw like a keen, kaleidoscopic kettle.
Max could actually hear Grey's body shatter into 7024 pieces. Then the patient ogre hurried away into the distance.
Not even a drink of blanco tequila would calm Max's nerves tonight. THE END
There's a noble new girl in Exeter and she has everybody talking. Stunningly stunning and devastatingly short, all the boys want her. However, That Super Rad Girl has a secret - she's a greedy vampire.
@JonT is a popular, tall boy who enjoys golf. He becomes fascinated by That Super Rad Girl who can stop rocks with her bare hands. He doesn't understand why she's so standoffish.
His best friend, a delightful giant called Irk, helps Jon begin to piece together the puzzle. Together, they discover the ultimate weapon - the pink, giant sword.
When bodies start turning up all over Exeter, Jon begins to fear the worst. The giant urges her to report That Super Rad Girl to the police and he knows he should, so what's stopping him?
He may resist That Super Rad Girl's bite, but can he resist her charms?
@looseneck Sam wasn't sure if she had seen the apple move on it's own or if her exhausted brain had played a trick on her. She had been awake for the last forty eight hours trying to sort through the massive stack of papers that had been left for her. She sat in the middle of her kitchen floor with her legs crossed in front of her; a mess of papers encircling her. She stared at the red, polished fruit hoping that she wasn't starting to go insane. She wanted the fruit to move so she could take her mind off of the work in front of her, but in her heart she knew that fruit couldn't come alive and distract her. She also knew that if the fruit did move, she would have a hell of a time trying to figure out why. "I need to get out of here for a while" she thought. She carefully uncrossed her legs and used her hands to prop herself up, making sure not to disturb any of the piles she had worked so hard to create. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. She was tired, but still at a point where she could stay awake for a while longer. She tiptoed past the table and into the dining room. She briefly paused at the window to assess the weather. It looked hot. The kind of summer time hot that took your breath away when you stepped outside of an air conditioned dwelling. As Sam was about to move from the window, she heard a knock at the back door. This was problematic for two reasons; first, in order to answer the back door, she had to tiptoe back through the kitchen hoping that, when she opened the door, no sudden summer breeze would disturb her work. Second, the only person that would knock on her back door was Clyde. Clyde was supposed to be out of town for another two months. "Could he be trying to surprise me?" she asked herself. At the thought, her heart was pumping with excitement. "I'll be right there!" Sam joyfully called. She quickly, yet delicately, danced across the kitchen floor and stood in front of the door. "I must look like a horrible mess..." she thought as she ran her fingers through her hair. "I hope he doesn't say anything about it." She stood on her tiptoes and pulled the checkered curtain back to get a peek of who was knocking. Suddenly her expression changed from joy to sheer horror. It wasn't Clyde. It wasn't anyone she wanted to see ever again. Her hands began to tremble as she reached for the brass knob. She knew she shouldn't open it, but she didn't have a choice.
Dan Parkes looked at the tiny hawk in his hands and felt puzzled.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his magical surroundings. He had always loved backward Cambridge with its muddy, miniature mountains. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel puzzled.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Suzanne Barker. Suzanne was an understanding elephant with handsome thighs and moist feet.
Dan gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a helpful, smelly, brandy drinker with moist thighs and red feet. His friends saw him as a healthy, hollow hero. Once, he had even helped an encouraging baby bird recover from a flying accident.
But not even a helpful person who had once helped an encouraging baby bird recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Suzanne had in store today.
The sleet rained like walking rats, making Dan ecstatic.
As Dan stepped outside and Suzanne came closer, he could see the melted smile on her face.
Suzanne gazed with the affection of 553 patient glamorous guppies. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a resolution."
Dan looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the tiny hawk. "Suzanne, I just don't need you in my life any more," he replied.
They looked at each other with delighted feelings, like two bewildered, blue bears bopping at a very admirable rave, which had flute music playing in the background and two peculiar uncles rampaging to the beat.
Suddenly, Suzanne lunged forward and tried to punch Dan in the face. Quickly, Dan grabbed the tiny hawk and brought it down on Suzanne's skull.
Suzanne's handsome thighs trembled and her moist feet wobbled. She looked stable, her emotions raw like a tall, teeny torch.
Then she let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Suzanne Barker was dead.
Dan Parkes went back inside and made himself a nice glass of brandy.
I hope you read every word of this computer generated and vaguely insane story
@Lotsofgoats it was terrifying -- WHAT HAPPENED TO THE HAWK?!
@katylava it made the ultimate sacrifice (۲ಥ_ಥ)
@Lotsofgoats Where's the site that generated this? I loved it!
@Teripie http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/story/
@Lotsofgoats @katylava
@Lotsofgoats My thighs got moist when Dan fingered the hawk
@Lotsofgoats It's Mad Libs online! Gotta play this next time we have a few beers.
I think more madness is called for here...
Definitely.
@2many2no ok
Alison Khan looked at the crumpled gun in her hands and felt afraid.
She walked over to the window and reflected on her pretty surroundings. She had always loved quiet Upper Boggington with its quaint, quick quarries. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel afraid.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of May Ball. May was a bold friend with ugly fingers and handsome eyelashes.
Alison gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a vile, intelligent, beer drinker with pointy fingers and ample eyelashes. Her friends saw her as a kaleidoscopic, kindhearted knight. Once, she had even helped a knowing disabled person recover from a flying accident.
But not even a vile person who had once helped a knowing disabled person recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what May had in store today.
The rain hammered like bopping foxes, making Alison concerned.
As Alison stepped outside and May came closer, she could see the busy glint in her eye.
"I am here because I want peace," May bellowed, in a forgetful tone. She slammed her fist against Alison's chest, with the force of 2669 monkeys. "I frigging love you, Alison Khan."
Alison looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the crumpled gun. "May, I ate your puppy," she replied.
They looked at each other with barmy feelings, like two gentle, giant giraffes swimming at a very brutal Halloween party, which had R & B music playing in the background and two sympathetic uncles jumping to the beat.
Alison regarded May's ugly fingers and handsome eyelashes. She held out her hand. "Let's not fight," she whispered, gently.
"Hmph," pondered May.
"Please?" begged Alison with puppy dog eyes.
May looked irritable, her body blushing like a hollow, homeless hat.
Then May came inside for a nice drink of beer.
pretty sure Allison Khan is dead after being punched in the chest with the force of 2669 monkeys, RIP
her hump encircles the reticent cactus and even an aroused password
can the needle abound close to that corner but not your flank
an enlarged one will push your tragedy and a craze
the uniform unmasks her wristband
their wisterias stipulated his edition barred the fog
his banyans swore the barrel braids your broken descant
the lengthy hydras corruptly deplore by this knack because of kingly firetraps
the peer jars a tangent after the injury
her grouch jested will a chum readily misstate a spiny chemist
an anchorman asserted can their cribbage disturb a tackler
a vision scares this former spool after their host
the swatter prayed the sexy thing deployed the vital bigot
a flight mumbled when does Stephan sooth the lummox
his synods chanted its petella demolishes the climactic elders
the pouch will stock its scout but not the luxury
her bandoleers galloped toward a trapezoidal stowaway and this entrail
these symbolic solder asserted the proteges chirp thick apes
a bunker was unearthing above the sprout and the vestment
his runaways will sledge a stash after his herbal decision
the liver might paw their banister but not the margin
a single scribbler will varnish the ordained juntas
the drier alights
a cleric might regard nukes and even the bedroll
the condolance will garble their deadly passbooks or that temple
their fridges said the prognoses jogged their divergent trickle
should a doctor annul copiously above a lad because of that undertow
Susie drawled a clingy chef might relay an aspiring feature
the humane planner is urinating apart from dignified wards
an ash has hustled toward a skywriter before the screws
the reader wounded his quart
I should have known you guys would do this to me.
Max Harper looked at the tattered sausage in his hands and felt twisted.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his damp surroundings. He had always loved dark 4th Street with its plastic, petite pungent smell. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel twisted.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Grey Boone. Grey was a patient ogre with handsome eyebrows and wobbly shoulders.
Max gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a creepy, brutal, blanco tequila drinker with greasy eyebrows and slimy shoulders. His friends saw him as a valid, vacant vicar. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a poor dying baby.
But not even a creepy person who had once made a cup of tea for a poor dying baby, was prepared for what Grey had in store today.
The clouds danced like sleeping humming birds, making Max joyless.
As Max stepped outside and Grey came closer, he could see the tart smile on his face.
"I am here because I want an answer," Grey bellowed, in a scheming tone. He slammed his fist against Max's chest, with the force of 6757 maggots. "I frigging hate you, Max Harper."
Max looked back, even more joyless and still fingering the tattered sausage. "Grey, you will pay for your wrong doings," he replied.
They looked at each other with upset feelings, like two pickled, panicky pigeons singing at a very sweet Valentine's meal, which had salsa music playing in the background and two clever uncles running to the beat.
Max studied Grey's handsome eyebrows and wobbly shoulders. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you an answer," he explained, in pitying tones.
Grey looked angry, his body raw like a keen, kaleidoscopic kettle.
Max could actually hear Grey's body shatter into 7024 pieces. Then the patient ogre hurried away into the distance.
Not even a drink of blanco tequila would calm Max's nerves tonight.
THE END
@baseba4551 Sounds like a dream I had last week.
There's a noble new girl in Exeter and she has everybody talking. Stunningly stunning and devastatingly short, all the boys want her. However, That Super Rad Girl has a secret - she's a greedy vampire.
@JonT is a popular, tall boy who enjoys golf. He becomes fascinated by That Super Rad Girl who can stop rocks with her bare hands. He doesn't understand why she's so standoffish.
His best friend, a delightful giant called Irk, helps Jon begin to piece together the puzzle. Together, they discover the ultimate weapon - the pink, giant sword.
When bodies start turning up all over Exeter, Jon begins to fear the worst. The giant urges her to report That Super Rad Girl to the police and he knows he should, so what's stopping him?
He may resist That Super Rad Girl's bite, but can he resist her charms?
Will he be caught hopping with the vampire?
(fyi there are more generators like this horrid young adult vampire one a level up from the previous link, http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/)
@Lotsofgoats Meh Mad Libs - me likey!
@looseneck
Sam wasn't sure if she had seen the apple move on it's own or if her exhausted brain had played a trick on her. She had been awake for the last forty eight hours trying to sort through the massive stack of papers that had been left for her. She sat in the middle of her kitchen floor with her legs crossed in front of her; a mess of papers encircling her.
She stared at the red, polished fruit hoping that she wasn't starting to go insane. She wanted the fruit to move so she could take her mind off of the work in front of her, but in her heart she knew that fruit couldn't come alive and distract her. She also knew that if the fruit did move, she would have a hell of a time trying to figure out why.
"I need to get out of here for a while" she thought.
She carefully uncrossed her legs and used her hands to prop herself up, making sure not to disturb any of the piles she had worked so hard to create. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. She was tired, but still at a point where she could stay awake for a while longer.
She tiptoed past the table and into the dining room. She briefly paused at the window to assess the weather. It looked hot. The kind of summer time hot that took your breath away when you stepped outside of an air conditioned dwelling.
As Sam was about to move from the window, she heard a knock at the back door. This was problematic for two reasons; first, in order to answer the back door, she had to tiptoe back through the kitchen hoping that, when she opened the door, no sudden summer breeze would disturb her work. Second, the only person that would knock on her back door was Clyde. Clyde was supposed to be out of town for another two months.
"Could he be trying to surprise me?" she asked herself. At the thought, her heart was pumping with excitement.
"I'll be right there!" Sam joyfully called.
She quickly, yet delicately, danced across the kitchen floor and stood in front of the door.
"I must look like a horrible mess..." she thought as she ran her fingers through her hair. "I hope he doesn't say anything about it."
She stood on her tiptoes and pulled the checkered curtain back to get a peek of who was knocking.
Suddenly her expression changed from joy to sheer horror.
It wasn't Clyde. It wasn't anyone she wanted to see ever again.
Her hands began to tremble as she reached for the brass knob. She knew she shouldn't open it, but she didn't have a choice.
@Willijs3 Finally a story that flows. My head was exploding from all the handsome eyebrows.
The nice thing about these "accept" threads is they are all mercifully short. Not a whole lot of comments to wade through.