THREE WORD STORY
Moderators: malletphreak, Hostrauser
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FluteOfTheNewWorld
- Grand PooBah
- Posts: 3431
- Joined: Wed Jul 12, 2006 7:16 pm
- Location: Alpha Quadrant
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barisaxroxmysox
- New Recruit
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Mon Dec 12, 2005 5:21 pm
- Location: Riverside
The story so far (dear goodness)
The band was eating hot dogs. An hour later, the phone rang while you were in the shower listening to your Ipod blasting jazz. It was your hibachi salesman, Ted. Ted wanted to say that your band hot dogs were made of flutes, clarinets, and highly toxic headcheese. I ate them. All your base instruments ended up belonging to us. Not to mention Han shot first at the tiny hairy wookie present. Then, a tiny flea jumped into my hot dog and unfortunately infested the band review with many diseased bags of kitty-litter for great justice. But it was Ryan who shouted “SON OF A kid billy goat!” Then he jumped over the candlestick into hog dog and around the relish and mustard. Soon after, everyone ate a cheeseburger made of cheese with a topping of lettuce and a mystery ingredient. Nonetheless this didn’t stop anyone from eating hot dogs because airplanes still crash quite often for great justice! Meanwhile back home under the cover of darkness a mysterious shape was lurking behind a tree, cigarette smoke wafting lazily into the chilly November air as the houses on Strawberry Lane were emitting the usual late-evening television glow of the latest fad reality program which was soon to vanish from human memory as all such inconsequential programs are wont to do. The mysterious shape then seemed to come to a abrupt decision, and the cigarette butt was hastily flung to the ground, and the shape was seen to scurry to the nearest bedroom window and peer within, where a teenager was engrossed in a session of evening web-surfing, oblivious to the presence outside which was watching him hungrily with crimson eyes, crouching and getting ready to eat a kielbasa smothered in all that is precious, sweet and tangy, just like oranges but not “orangey.” So the donkey skipped away towards the purple cats who were smoking for great justice. Then they decided that idiotic ferrets should play trumpet with their toes. Ryan’s hot dog exploded due to a sudden rise in his bun!
The band was eating hot dogs. An hour later, the phone rang while you were in the shower listening to your Ipod blasting jazz. It was your hibachi salesman, Ted. Ted wanted to say that your band hot dogs were made of flutes, clarinets, and highly toxic headcheese. I ate them. All your base instruments ended up belonging to us. Not to mention Han shot first at the tiny hairy wookie present. Then, a tiny flea jumped into my hot dog and unfortunately infested the band review with many diseased bags of kitty-litter for great justice. But it was Ryan who shouted “SON OF A kid billy goat!” Then he jumped over the candlestick into hog dog and around the relish and mustard. Soon after, everyone ate a cheeseburger made of cheese with a topping of lettuce and a mystery ingredient. Nonetheless this didn’t stop anyone from eating hot dogs because airplanes still crash quite often for great justice! Meanwhile back home under the cover of darkness a mysterious shape was lurking behind a tree, cigarette smoke wafting lazily into the chilly November air as the houses on Strawberry Lane were emitting the usual late-evening television glow of the latest fad reality program which was soon to vanish from human memory as all such inconsequential programs are wont to do. The mysterious shape then seemed to come to a abrupt decision, and the cigarette butt was hastily flung to the ground, and the shape was seen to scurry to the nearest bedroom window and peer within, where a teenager was engrossed in a session of evening web-surfing, oblivious to the presence outside which was watching him hungrily with crimson eyes, crouching and getting ready to eat a kielbasa smothered in all that is precious, sweet and tangy, just like oranges but not “orangey.” So the donkey skipped away towards the purple cats who were smoking for great justice. Then they decided that idiotic ferrets should play trumpet with their toes. Ryan’s hot dog exploded due to a sudden rise in his bun!
Riverside King Class of 2008
