| Post/Author/DateTime | Post |
|---|---|
| #1Ragnar_LodbrokJun 02, 2009 23:55:07 | The passage rushes the desperate attempt, while the hacking chicken fingers the danger. Pudding-thief, why am I a cube? Cubes are the devil! Vampires like bad eggs. Verily, my socks are green and orange. They smell like day-old bananas. Your welfare shies away. It is frightened of the pineapples. Pineapples are homes for macaws! (In case you hadn't guessed, this thread is for random, semi-coherent sentences.) |
| #2owls_and_more_owlsJun 02, 2009 23:59:05 | Zounds! Madagascar in the Tabloids! Wicker, when the walls fell. Disproportionate to Healthy Litigations. Albatross in the Salad days. Unbeknown to oricalcum goblets, the chair moves slower than DNA. |
| #3toastedamphibianJun 03, 2009 0:51:19 | Albatros in my salad, Disproportionate disapointment in the healthy litigation of my DNA, Madagacar in the tabloids, the chair moves, the wicker wall falls. |
| #4owls_and_more_owlsJun 03, 2009 1:40:36 | Albatros in my salad, Hey you stole mine TwT |
| #5toastedamphibianJun 03, 2009 1:45:29 | Hey, don't blame me if you inspire crappy-depressing-nonsensical poetry. |
| #6Ragnar_LodbrokJun 03, 2009 16:38:37 | Gerbils! The gerbils are coming! Hide your nutmeg! This divided sample services the fan. |
| #7terronusJun 03, 2009 16:45:05 | The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonner- ronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthur- nuk!) of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later on life down through all christian minstrelsy. The great fall of the offwall entailed at such short notice the pftjschute of Finnegan, erse solid man, that the humptyhillhead of humself prumptly sends an unquiring one well to the west in quest of his tumptytumtoes: and their upturnpikepointandplace is at the knock out in the park where oranges have been laid to rust upon the green since dev- linsfirst loved livvy. |
| #8Mad_JackJun 04, 2009 19:03:01 | Fail thee not to not not fail, as septuagenarians fie thee merrily - O, the aardvark calleth! Verily, I am a tiny tree, sparkling in equivocal ecstacy. Is that I was, that I am not now, nor never shall be - for God hath ate my television. O, Britania (P. Stevenson)! (thee who were my prom date.) |
| #9dirtyfrankJun 04, 2009 19:25:38 | Ain't got no meats on a journal fry. |
| #10ocarina_guyJun 05, 2009 23:31:42 | A duck upon thy head, Sir William! The spoon preaches the napkin's space hammer of time justice! Preheat the shirt to "cinnamon." |
| #11LadyNeferRaJun 05, 2009 23:45:44 | Blasted parallelograms haunt my every donut. |
| #12DralenanJun 06, 2009 2:40:02 | And the reason I say that is, because, I am a walnut. |