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3 Word Story
Re: 3 Word Story
insignificance, such as
This is one of the great social functions of science - to free people of superstition. - Steven Weinberg
Re: 3 Word Story
There was once a baby girl who was born of a virgin man - the first!
Her name was Sarah Louise Palin F'tang F'tang Johnson or something similar. She was superhuman. Her legs could turn into wings. Her eyes could melt your heart but she had one weakness: she was very impulsive. She would often just decide to use those legs to devastating effect so she got a black belt and matching scarf in ecky thump. "The Goodies" were none too pleased but the baddies said; hang on a cotton pickin' minute or so, or else, I won't be responsible for any damage done to your body and belongings.
One fine day a robot came named John McCain who, besides being made of potatoes a conservative nutbar held together with duct tape and other similar nonsense, was understandably quite flabbergasted by her poor grasp of reality; in particular which was is bad sentence structure amongst other things although word order forbade him, he expired.
Meanwhile, just then chip makers from near Bridgetown, Barbados, were speeding along the beach recklessly driving a milk float. They said that if Hockey Moms were a little more cognisant of their Offspring's short comings they mightn't be quite so prone to preach abstinence, Mrs. Palin Johnson, peace be upon all chip makers. Ms Johnson chips away at the wedding cake of her Aunt Gladys, who had been a former pilot in the Swedish Latin American dance squadron, which previously performed high jinks and dirty tricks at theatres nation wide with great sucess.
Neighbour, Nellie Poobum, having eaten all the cake's icing and huge amounts of the marzipan followed by pints of virgin blood not to mention buckets of potatoes, made into chips, and fried in hot baby oil made from real rape seed oil and burned three times over a campfire, suddenly vomited and started levitating, her feet grew into yards and gardens and fields. Perhaps most surprisingly, her hair was a deep shade turquoise. Perhaps it wasn’t really here except in our sick fevered imaginations. Clearly, though, that completely untrue, because she often twittered, mostly about eternal fluffy pink unicorns but occasionally about matters of great insignificance, such as Paris Hilton and
other posh hotels.
Her name was Sarah Louise Palin F'tang F'tang Johnson or something similar. She was superhuman. Her legs could turn into wings. Her eyes could melt your heart but she had one weakness: she was very impulsive. She would often just decide to use those legs to devastating effect so she got a black belt and matching scarf in ecky thump. "The Goodies" were none too pleased but the baddies said; hang on a cotton pickin' minute or so, or else, I won't be responsible for any damage done to your body and belongings.
One fine day a robot came named John McCain who, besides being made of potatoes a conservative nutbar held together with duct tape and other similar nonsense, was understandably quite flabbergasted by her poor grasp of reality; in particular which was is bad sentence structure amongst other things although word order forbade him, he expired.
Meanwhile, just then chip makers from near Bridgetown, Barbados, were speeding along the beach recklessly driving a milk float. They said that if Hockey Moms were a little more cognisant of their Offspring's short comings they mightn't be quite so prone to preach abstinence, Mrs. Palin Johnson, peace be upon all chip makers. Ms Johnson chips away at the wedding cake of her Aunt Gladys, who had been a former pilot in the Swedish Latin American dance squadron, which previously performed high jinks and dirty tricks at theatres nation wide with great sucess.
Neighbour, Nellie Poobum, having eaten all the cake's icing and huge amounts of the marzipan followed by pints of virgin blood not to mention buckets of potatoes, made into chips, and fried in hot baby oil made from real rape seed oil and burned three times over a campfire, suddenly vomited and started levitating, her feet grew into yards and gardens and fields. Perhaps most surprisingly, her hair was a deep shade turquoise. Perhaps it wasn’t really here except in our sick fevered imaginations. Clearly, though, that completely untrue, because she often twittered, mostly about eternal fluffy pink unicorns but occasionally about matters of great insignificance, such as Paris Hilton and
other posh hotels.
Re: 3 Word Story
There was once a baby girl who was born of a virgin man - the first!
Her name was Sarah Louise Palin F'tang F'tang Johnson or something similar. She was superhuman. Her legs could turn into wings. Her eyes could melt your heart but she had one weakness: she was very impulsive. She would often just decide to use those legs to devastating effect so she got a black belt and matching scarf in ecky thump. "The Goodies" were none too pleased but the baddies said; hang on a cotton pickin' minute or so, or else, I won't be responsible for any damage done to your body and belongings.
One fine day a robot came named John McCain who, besides being made of potatoes a conservative nutbar held together with duct tape and other similar nonsense, was understandably quite flabbergasted by her poor grasp of reality; in particular which was is bad sentence structure amongst other things although word order forbade him, he expired.
Meanwhile, just then chip makers from near Bridgetown, Barbados, were speeding along the beach recklessly driving a milk float. They said that if Hockey Moms were a little more cognisant of their Offspring's short comings they mightn't be quite so prone to preach abstinence, Mrs. Palin Johnson, peace be upon all chip makers. Ms Johnson chips away at the wedding cake of her Aunt Gladys, who had been a former pilot in the Swedish Latin American dance squadron, which previously performed high jinks and dirty tricks at theatres nation wide with great sucess.
Neighbour, Nellie Poobum, having eaten all the cake's icing and huge amounts of the marzipan followed by pints of virgin blood not to mention buckets of potatoes, made into chips, and fried in hot baby oil made from real rape seed oil and burned three times over a campfire, suddenly vomited and started levitating, her feet grew into yards and gardens and fields. Perhaps most surprisingly, her hair was a deep shade turquoise. Perhaps it wasn’t really here except in our sick fevered imaginations. Clearly, though, that completely untrue, because she often twittered, mostly about eternal fluffy pink unicorns but occasionally about matters of great insignificance, such as Paris Hilton and other posh hotels.
There always seems
Whenever I see that name I'm in tears. I hate to think what says about me.
Her name was Sarah Louise Palin F'tang F'tang Johnson or something similar. She was superhuman. Her legs could turn into wings. Her eyes could melt your heart but she had one weakness: she was very impulsive. She would often just decide to use those legs to devastating effect so she got a black belt and matching scarf in ecky thump. "The Goodies" were none too pleased but the baddies said; hang on a cotton pickin' minute or so, or else, I won't be responsible for any damage done to your body and belongings.
One fine day a robot came named John McCain who, besides being made of potatoes a conservative nutbar held together with duct tape and other similar nonsense, was understandably quite flabbergasted by her poor grasp of reality; in particular which was is bad sentence structure amongst other things although word order forbade him, he expired.
Meanwhile, just then chip makers from near Bridgetown, Barbados, were speeding along the beach recklessly driving a milk float. They said that if Hockey Moms were a little more cognisant of their Offspring's short comings they mightn't be quite so prone to preach abstinence, Mrs. Palin Johnson, peace be upon all chip makers. Ms Johnson chips away at the wedding cake of her Aunt Gladys, who had been a former pilot in the Swedish Latin American dance squadron, which previously performed high jinks and dirty tricks at theatres nation wide with great sucess.
Neighbour, Nellie Poobum, having eaten all the cake's icing and huge amounts of the marzipan followed by pints of virgin blood not to mention buckets of potatoes, made into chips, and fried in hot baby oil made from real rape seed oil and burned three times over a campfire, suddenly vomited and started levitating, her feet grew into yards and gardens and fields. Perhaps most surprisingly, her hair was a deep shade turquoise. Perhaps it wasn’t really here except in our sick fevered imaginations. Clearly, though, that completely untrue, because she often twittered, mostly about eternal fluffy pink unicorns but occasionally about matters of great insignificance, such as Paris Hilton and other posh hotels.
There always seems
Nellie Poobum
Whenever I see that name I'm in tears. I hate to think what says about me.
Re: 3 Word Story
to be unpleasant
Is that Smelly Nellie??Nellie Poobum
This is one of the great social functions of science - to free people of superstition. - Steven Weinberg
- Lifelinking
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- Joined: July 4th, 2007, 11:56 am
Re: 3 Word Story
repercussions arising from
(and her cousin, Nigel Fartwhistle)
(and her cousin, Nigel Fartwhistle)
"Who thinks the law has anything to do with justice? It's what we have because we can't have justice."
William McIlvanney
William McIlvanney
Re: 3 Word Story
luxury establishments, especially
- Lifelinking
- Posts: 3248
- Joined: July 4th, 2007, 11:56 am
Re: 3 Word Story
There was once a baby girl who was born of a virgin man - the first!
Her name was Sarah Louise Palin F'tang F'tang Johnson or something similar. She was superhuman. Her legs could turn into wings. Her eyes could melt your heart but she had one weakness: she was very impulsive. She would often just decide to use those legs to devastating effect so she got a black belt and matching scarf in ecky thump. "The Goodies" were none too pleased but the baddies said; hang on a cotton pickin' minute or so, or else, I won't be responsible for any damage done to your body and belongings.
One fine day a robot came named John McCain who, besides being made of potatoes a conservative nutbar held together with duct tape and other similar nonsense, was understandably quite flabbergasted by her poor grasp of reality; in particular which was is bad sentence structure amongst other things although word order forbade him, he expired.
Meanwhile, just then chip makers from near Bridgetown, Barbados, were speeding along the beach recklessly driving a milk float. They said that if Hockey Moms were a little more cognisant of their Offspring's short comings they mightn't be quite so prone to preach abstinence, Mrs. Palin Johnson, peace be upon all chip makers. Ms Johnson chips away at the wedding cake of her Aunt Gladys, who had been a former pilot in the Swedish Latin American dance squadron, which previously performed high jinks and dirty tricks at theatres nation wide with great success.
Neighbour, Nellie Poobum, having eaten all the cake's icing and huge amounts of the marzipan followed by pints of virgin blood not to mention buckets of potatoes, made into chips, and fried in hot baby oil made from real rape seed oil and burned three times over a campfire, suddenly vomited and started levitating, her feet grew into yards and gardens and fields. Perhaps most surprisingly, her hair was a deep shade turquoise. Perhaps it wasn’t really here except in our sick fevered imaginations. Clearly, though, that’s completely untrue, because she often twittered, mostly about eternal fluffy pink unicorns but occasionally about matters of great insignificance, such as Paris Hilton and other posh hotels.
There always seems to be unpleasant repercussions arising from luxury establishments, especially those with mirrored
Her name was Sarah Louise Palin F'tang F'tang Johnson or something similar. She was superhuman. Her legs could turn into wings. Her eyes could melt your heart but she had one weakness: she was very impulsive. She would often just decide to use those legs to devastating effect so she got a black belt and matching scarf in ecky thump. "The Goodies" were none too pleased but the baddies said; hang on a cotton pickin' minute or so, or else, I won't be responsible for any damage done to your body and belongings.
One fine day a robot came named John McCain who, besides being made of potatoes a conservative nutbar held together with duct tape and other similar nonsense, was understandably quite flabbergasted by her poor grasp of reality; in particular which was is bad sentence structure amongst other things although word order forbade him, he expired.
Meanwhile, just then chip makers from near Bridgetown, Barbados, were speeding along the beach recklessly driving a milk float. They said that if Hockey Moms were a little more cognisant of their Offspring's short comings they mightn't be quite so prone to preach abstinence, Mrs. Palin Johnson, peace be upon all chip makers. Ms Johnson chips away at the wedding cake of her Aunt Gladys, who had been a former pilot in the Swedish Latin American dance squadron, which previously performed high jinks and dirty tricks at theatres nation wide with great success.
Neighbour, Nellie Poobum, having eaten all the cake's icing and huge amounts of the marzipan followed by pints of virgin blood not to mention buckets of potatoes, made into chips, and fried in hot baby oil made from real rape seed oil and burned three times over a campfire, suddenly vomited and started levitating, her feet grew into yards and gardens and fields. Perhaps most surprisingly, her hair was a deep shade turquoise. Perhaps it wasn’t really here except in our sick fevered imaginations. Clearly, though, that’s completely untrue, because she often twittered, mostly about eternal fluffy pink unicorns but occasionally about matters of great insignificance, such as Paris Hilton and other posh hotels.
There always seems to be unpleasant repercussions arising from luxury establishments, especially those with mirrored
"Who thinks the law has anything to do with justice? It's what we have because we can't have justice."
William McIlvanney
William McIlvanney
Re: 3 Word Story
bowling alleys which
This is one of the great social functions of science - to free people of superstition. - Steven Weinberg
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- Joined: July 4th, 2007, 11:56 am
Re: 3 Word Story
are frequented by
"Who thinks the law has anything to do with justice? It's what we have because we can't have justice."
William McIlvanney
William McIlvanney
Re: 3 Word Story
narcissistic bowlers, wearing
- Lifelinking
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- Joined: July 4th, 2007, 11:56 am
Re: 3 Word Story
A Guatemalan contortionist
"Who thinks the law has anything to do with justice? It's what we have because we can't have justice."
William McIlvanney
William McIlvanney
Re: 3 Word Story
There was once a baby girl who was born of a virgin man - the first!
Her name was Sarah Louise Palin F'tang F'tang Johnson or something similar. She was superhuman. Her legs could turn into wings. Her eyes could melt your heart but she had one weakness: she was very impulsive. She would often just decide to use those legs to devastating effect so she got a black belt and matching scarf in ecky thump. "The Goodies" were none too pleased but the baddies said; hang on a cotton pickin' minute or so, or else, I won't be responsible for any damage done to your body and belongings.
One fine day a robot came named John McCain who, besides being made of potatoes a conservative nutbar held together with duct tape and other similar nonsense, was understandably quite flabbergasted by her poor grasp of reality; in particular which was is bad sentence structure amongst other things although word order forbade him, he expired.
Meanwhile, just then chip makers from near Bridgetown, Barbados, were speeding along the beach recklessly driving a milk float. They said that if Hockey Moms were a little more cognisant of their Offspring's short comings they mightn't be quite so prone to preach abstinence, Mrs. Palin Johnson, peace be upon all chip makers. Ms Johnson chips away at the wedding cake of her Aunt Gladys, who had been a former pilot in the Swedish Latin American dance squadron, which previously performed high jinks and dirty tricks at theatres nation wide with great success.
Neighbour, Nellie Poobum, having eaten all the cake's icing and huge amounts of the marzipan followed by pints of virgin blood not to mention buckets of potatoes, made into chips, and fried in hot baby oil made from real rape seed oil and burned three times over a campfire, suddenly vomited and started levitating, her feet grew into yards and gardens and fields. Perhaps most surprisingly, her hair was a deep shade turquoise. Perhaps it wasn’t really here except in our sick fevered imaginations. Clearly, though, that’s completely untrue, because she often twittered, mostly about eternal fluffy pink unicorns but occasionally about matters of great insignificance, such as Paris Hilton and other posh hotels.
There always seems to be unpleasant repercussions arising from luxury establishments, especially those with mirrored bowling alleys which are frequented by narcissistic bowlers, wearing mirrored sunglasses and Jimmy Choo shoes. A Guatemalan contortionist once famously said,
Her name was Sarah Louise Palin F'tang F'tang Johnson or something similar. She was superhuman. Her legs could turn into wings. Her eyes could melt your heart but she had one weakness: she was very impulsive. She would often just decide to use those legs to devastating effect so she got a black belt and matching scarf in ecky thump. "The Goodies" were none too pleased but the baddies said; hang on a cotton pickin' minute or so, or else, I won't be responsible for any damage done to your body and belongings.
One fine day a robot came named John McCain who, besides being made of potatoes a conservative nutbar held together with duct tape and other similar nonsense, was understandably quite flabbergasted by her poor grasp of reality; in particular which was is bad sentence structure amongst other things although word order forbade him, he expired.
Meanwhile, just then chip makers from near Bridgetown, Barbados, were speeding along the beach recklessly driving a milk float. They said that if Hockey Moms were a little more cognisant of their Offspring's short comings they mightn't be quite so prone to preach abstinence, Mrs. Palin Johnson, peace be upon all chip makers. Ms Johnson chips away at the wedding cake of her Aunt Gladys, who had been a former pilot in the Swedish Latin American dance squadron, which previously performed high jinks and dirty tricks at theatres nation wide with great success.
Neighbour, Nellie Poobum, having eaten all the cake's icing and huge amounts of the marzipan followed by pints of virgin blood not to mention buckets of potatoes, made into chips, and fried in hot baby oil made from real rape seed oil and burned three times over a campfire, suddenly vomited and started levitating, her feet grew into yards and gardens and fields. Perhaps most surprisingly, her hair was a deep shade turquoise. Perhaps it wasn’t really here except in our sick fevered imaginations. Clearly, though, that’s completely untrue, because she often twittered, mostly about eternal fluffy pink unicorns but occasionally about matters of great insignificance, such as Paris Hilton and other posh hotels.
There always seems to be unpleasant repercussions arising from luxury establishments, especially those with mirrored bowling alleys which are frequented by narcissistic bowlers, wearing mirrored sunglasses and Jimmy Choo shoes. A Guatemalan contortionist once famously said,
- Emma Woolgatherer
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Re: 3 Word Story
"Never put your
Re: 3 Word Story
foot in your
This is one of the great social functions of science - to free people of superstition. - Steven Weinberg
- Lifelinking
- Posts: 3248
- Joined: July 4th, 2007, 11:56 am
Re: 3 Word Story
ear, while the
"Who thinks the law has anything to do with justice? It's what we have because we can't have justice."
William McIlvanney
William McIlvanney
Re: 3 Word Story
mirrors are dirty.
- SoldierForTruth
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Re: 3 Word Story
But please lick
"Loyalty to tradition is not enough. You've got to keep asking yourself: What if I'm wrong?"
-Daniel C. Dennett
-Daniel C. Dennett