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LJP07

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Our story thus far...<some edits>

 

 

Today I will stop writing now, unless I go to the library. Marginal possibilities exist for my new home made DVD. Got some strippers to have some deep philosophical intercourses about post padding.

 

That doesn't flow, like liquid lead...more like mercury, spun into parabolas on green twigs. Now, if only my new pig had money inside his big fat woolen sweater, which ended up being woven from cosmic dust, including the atoms in your average supernova. However, I wouldn't want to be over on Pluto where the fluffly bunnies died from exposure to the unexpected cold airless void.

 

Then, suddenly, a squadron of aliens hijacked my aircraft. We saw a giant mother ship flying towards his ugly heavily armed hippopotomus with an AK-47, ready to cram fish, heavily toothed and poisonous into it's cavernous maw. Sated, it released cigarettes and chocolate milk dangerously close to breaking the rules (which is quite exhilerating)

 

Oh no, give me a loaded semi-automatic so I can shoot the alien in the foot before they kidnap the beautiful blonde and give her a medical examination and a big hybrid alien baby.

 

Then, before the hairball disolved into vomit, she swallowed until she could recover her exposed foolishness and return to outer space by way of the special bulging silver fast rotating flying saucer ship... that happened to travel to Orion before crashing and landing on a cold gray asteroid... on which was the very famous outpost number nine and three quarters, manned by Elvis and John Kennedy and Captain Kirk, along with a new dictator named the faithful stone.

 

Unfortunately, the faithful stone used standard punctuation to express his desire for the control of the American Presidential Offices and also the United Intergalactic Federation for freeing captive captives captivated by the captivating players of the new world order of sigmus prime two.

 

What ever happened to that priest with the big blonde afro who had a thing for spinning hulahoop and choir boys? He was imprisoned in a giant merry go round belonging to an old british dwarf who happened to be cooking a medium-rare fillet mignon with mushroom sauce over hot charcoal stove that was really very hot.

 

Then the sky began to turn into one big plasma toroid by pending relevant data. The sky looked as if the sun had just released a massive record! It was called Stellar Hits by Other Islands. It was a huge big long definition of life and and the universe and the reasons for honorificabilitudinitatibus of humans. I'm not sure if honorificabilitudinitatibus means anything at all.

 

Nonetheless, facetiousness predominated the circus, which had oversized vocabularies which manifested in multitudinous clowns who undoubtedly had the worst intentions. They wanted to squirt little flowers that sprayed triamminetriaquacobalt(III)chloride with pixie dust that was specially selected from blue cornish fairies who worked in Santa's toy shop before it exploded.

 

For decades they had done what George Orwell said would be the Buckminster Fuller plan, but George Orwell suddenly farted loudly... which stunned all into quiet submission.

 

Finally, the aliens decided to replace cows with people until all the cows could do accurate trignometric variance, which was more than most people. Millenia later, cows had learned calculus, but were unable to masturbate. Sadly, some committed suicide, because they couldn't get themselves off, which definitely sucks.

 

Speaking of sucking, there was this bald politician once who loved when someone got a plunger and used it on his girlfriend.

 

 

 

 

 

Wow, we really are quite a group... :phones:

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