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I Got A Third Lot Of Twenty One Words

Started by TJ, October 06, 2005, 11:38:15 AM

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dot

"I understand you need an ex or cyst" he said
"yes" answered slim
"my prior girlfriend had boils, she'd be perfect"

Jemble Fred

"Wow, you dated a Prior? Did he wear his cassock for you in bed?"

Boris laughed at this remark for an

Neville Chamberlain

instant, then realised he didn't understand what it meant. He ran his sausage fingers through his tousled shock of blond hair.

butnut

Inspector Slim was now baffled. He was running low on booze and things seemed to be out of control. Where was

Neville Chamberlain

the sense in life? Why was he talking to an insane, bare-chested Liverpudlian exorcist in the company of Boris Johnson?

Tre

Was his confusion simply caused by the fact that he hadn't eaten his Sheddies this morning? Or was there some conceited

Jemble Fred

bastard up in a cloud, pulling his strings? He gazed up accusingly, and fired off a warning shot.

An angel plummeted

Tre

to the ground, wailing the immortal words;

"You. You... Boris. Give me back my hat. I never said you could have

Mediocre Rich

it, or my wings.  Right now which one of you is slim? Yes, well I have been sent here by God

Jemble Fred

–"

Before the winged cunt could speak another word, Slim fired off a non-warning shot, blowing out the angel's brains and proving

Tre

that just cause red bull gives you wings, it doesn't give you immortality. As the angle's blood drenched, now slightly dishevelled

dot


dot

relieved slim with hot handed nimble forced guilt, "if god has no compasion, I want a new kitchen", taking off shoes

George

, he tied them together.

Overwhelmingly Remorseful surges welled up.

LOL

BANG!

The numb bullet vaporized his boiling brains.

Slim Died instantly.

Tre

It was thought by most, that this would be the end. But sitting in the corner was Ian the Exorcist, still

George

aghast at life, let alone death.

Ian found his bearings and discovered the letter that laid beside the prone, bloated corpse

sam and janet evening

was a W, "Hmm this must stand for something" he surmised. Suddenly inspired he played 'God Save the Queen' on a

butnut

contrabass tuba.

Across the moor, a lone figure heard this mournful sound and removed his hands from his trousers. He knew

sam and janet evening

Susie like I knew Susie, and was well aware of the terrifying reaction she would have to this melody, he reached


Cerys

for his favourite cheesy snack, and sucked on it for a while, mournfully.  Susie would have understood.  She had always harboured

butnut

Quote from: "George"(picture)

I saw at least 3 versions of that post before that pic appeared. It was like looking through the sketchbook of a very demented artist...

Quoteharboured

his boat for him in the dock. But now it was time to get the old girl out and sail her

across  the great lake to her Mother's, who would be waiting, as always, with a piping hot

Cerys

cheesy snack.  She knew him so well.  He remembered fondly the day Susie had finally introduced him to her family - especially

Great Uncle Bob Mugabee, what with his  curious views on pocket money distribution. This was turning out to be a most memorable

Cerys

cheesy snack, the figure decided.  Certainly more memorable than his own name, which kept slipping his mind like some bizarre lubricated

bizarre. The evening turned out to be a roaring success, even his facial tattoos raised little more than a

Jemble Fred

quid.

Then everything stopped, as things do when a ghostly voice is heard from nowhere.

"I know where PLC is..." came

Neville Chamberlain

the ghostly voice of a small child over the tannoy system. "But you must answer the following question to find out..."

amp

Ian paused. That voice was familiar - childlike, yet... not. "Is that Jeanette Kranky?"

"Maybe..." came a meek reply. "Why, does it