The World of Layonara
The Layonara Community => General Discussion => Topic started by: Doc-Holiday on October 21, 2005, 12:19:00 PM
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Masticate the frugal foreign monster! Obleque your mindful screen of ink pens, genuflect in the objectivity of the red dustpan and revel in its cold carpeted stickiness! Tomatoes have stolen my artifact and it shall dominate the moon!
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I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded briliant. :)
-Jester
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Flatulate upon the cup of my mind? I hear no squirrels in my paperclips...
Converse in the audibility of the aluminum sponge man?
SHOCK! The sound of my shoe has grown a door...
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Okay, chef brian...
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I handle no giblets to that personality...
Save for the radiant sizzling of his mental perferations
*runs through the door*
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I think we have just witnessed Doc going over the deep end.
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*pops out of toilet*
SWIRLING MASSES OF SUCULENT SOAP WADS FLUSH THE GROWING STONE!
Haste! Dilapidate the energy beavers and stamped the grass for ever striking leaves of dandy lion doom approach!
*dives back in*
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*Looks completely blank* Yeah...I agree...
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This man is a genius. Do you realize he just answered every question of life, the universe, and everything that man has ever asked!? Look closer, my friends, and see true brilliance at work!
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*a light bulb on the otherside of the room slowly untwists and falls the floor*
*doc squeezes out of the socket*
EXLAMATIONS! I have misplaced it and now it seeks further failings in the woodwork of our hair stylists. Damage my friends! We have darkend our gel sockets to the tingling of our sludge works in the fullness of the soggy baked goodness of the complaining cat that shines under our roofs. LOW! the flying fork of jubilation spanks the padded cell of my mind!
*jumps out near by window*
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I'll be frank with you. The lampshade of desiccation creeps fastidiously towards the ever peevish horizon to smother the intangible masses of virtual strawberries with its automotive dastardliness in withered club soda on the morrow?
*Nods.*
Woe.
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For sooth!
The doublely duplicitous maiden speaks truthfuly in lime water greens.
All who vibrate upon her steps shall gasp in her foresight.
A whole half of our enemy if partly known in the radiators of glue.
Fear the finding for the losing is lost to the sence of sight.
RUN!
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You're a gnome...no really you are arn't you?
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Was it something from the floating head-piece of the underground brickwall that fell from the moon -- This is something that never learned to fly, but can anyways. -- right? I know I feel indespicably halirous when the mouse falls from the floor; although it knows not whence it is falling, why it is streaking in purple mud while munching on all the unusually valuble crystals, which are for some reason completely worthless in this parademeinsional time gap in the stupendeously electroscopic world. Wherefore the universe is known by the number forty-two in the semi-international world of sentencing the books of the yesteryear to be preserved and read until the beginning of time has begun anew. Whereas the formula of success is failure; failure, success, and the mirror the candle; the candle the mirror. Not to mention ducks and geese will fly in the water after the penguins swim in the air, wich is not a concern of the military. This concludes that the ramblings of the "out-there" are actually "in-there" forasmuch as lightining is not electricity, but actaually an ion of the element not known as multicellular disjunction, making run-on sentences nonexistant.
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Doc: Fear the power of the bong! Or perhaps, lack of sleep.
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You fail to see the evil that squabbles before you
I speak of that which rusts your grains and causticates your madibles.
I verbalize...
THE TOASTER OVEN!
*runs and screams*
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*looks in the refridgerator* What is this? *hears something go off* Was that the Broom of the Undying Summer? *frowns* Whatever it was, I do not think it is on the plane of existance anymore. *steps inside the refridgerator door, and falls from the electrical socket on the celing in the garage while looking at a barrel of exploding sodium* Oh my... *watches the exploded barrel respawn* I wonder why the glasses case wants to destroy the lawn mower... *sees a microwave tower next to the broken windows of the aluminium door. frowns, then reaches into the upper left pocket on his jacket* Where did my continuum corrector go; did it fall through this hole? *reaches through his pocket; notices the hole leads somewhere, and begins to feel around* I won't find it this way... *touches the timer in the hologram of the sprinkler system controls, pulling a spool of magnesium from the chest in the attic. Then walks to the car door, reaching into the key-hole to get scissors and matches. Dives into the upper left jacket pocket.* Now that I'm in the freezer... *Threads one eighth of the spool of magnesium along the base of the freezer door; cuts it; and lights it* What was I looking for? I do not think it is in here... *leaves the freezer through the ice despenser, and closes the refridgerator door* Now -- *hears something else explode in the garage* Stupid transmission... *goes down the drain in the kitchen sink*
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MOCKERY!
Your sandy socks will weep in the fortitude of your glass blown ship, and all that oozes in your pudding will dry at the sight of your plastic carbon. Rubberize your will and sear your templates with burning pidgeons and drive your noodles away.
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ugh, another Malkavian...
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Who said Jim Morrison was dead....
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GAH! I hate Jim Morrison....
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miltonyorkcastle - 10/21/2005 5:44 PM
GAH! I hate Jim Morrison....
*gasps* How can you say that!?! Heresy! ;)
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lonnarin - 10/22/2005 12:35 AM
ugh, another Malkavian...
I loved that game... specially on the part that my character actually dated that other Malkavian girl. *grins*
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Nay, Resitute the front posterior bull wagon. Lucid then becomes a west blown poisonous, ergo a vermillion sunset at dawn. Blind sky feet watching a muder of billygoats slink over the nostil of existentialism.
Pontificate downward toward the plumbing; carbonated bellydancers imbibe a collusion of pantomime.
Africa is seldom borrowed by tepid confections, alas the pentultimate water balloon.
-Edwin Basegut
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Forsooth! watch the unimaginable discus-thrower consume the purple handkerchief, which will warp him into an unknown continuum of chaos; wherefore the handkerchief will become unimaginable and consume the purple discus-thrower, who will find himslef unusually calm in the times of chaos thereafter.
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you guys should be preachers. All you have to do is say that, and people'll line up for your cause lol
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My hovercraft is full of eels
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Wherefore I feel like babbling a run-on sentence, which causes me to create unusually unimaginable figures in the overusing of multiple words in unusually complex combinations; creating hard to understand circles of many dumbfounded fractals considered intelligent.