Rambleskoozy
But, I don't know what else to type here. Hell, I don't even know if you check this thing. Though, you do have myspace, apparently.
I have about 9500 characters left, so you get a story.
*tab* The pepperidge was late. He was always late. Bastard could never be on time, even if his kid's life depended on it. The bacteria were getting nervous, and the carbonates just couldn't wait any longer.
Just as the cylinder turned, The pepperidge walked through the door. Covered in pillows and mammograms, he lunged at the gun, and ended up taking a raspberry bullet in the sternum.
Oozing, nay, spraying peppermint everywhere, The pepperidge crawled towards his gingerbread son, tied to the chair. Pepperidge slipped his son a note, which read:
You have a twin sister - Easter.
And then pepperidge promptly died.
Being that the Bossington had gotten what he wanted (the mammograms), and feeling especially cheery after seeing so much pepperidge, he decided to let the gingerbread boy go. This would prove to be his undoing.
Outside, and 1500 miles away, Gary Oldman stood at the precipice of an antique dealers, holding a cat.
Oldman is inconsequential. It's the cat that matters. Mr. Fluffypants had convinced Oldman to take him to this antique dealer's, Yousterday's Columns, so that he might find an artifact of great importance.
Gibb, as he had taken to being named, had been looking for his sister for almost 14 years before he found her. As a head in a jar in an alley between 31st street and Lincoln. Feeling mildly defeated, but not overly distraught, he brought his sister to an arpeggiator and had her head sewn onto an elephant, along with a synthesizer.
They did not get along.
10000 characters is too many for this story, and I think our plot is only up to about 7 so far. Maybe 9. But Spangland must prevail, and so we trudge ever onward.
The jackalope, loyal servant to the Bossington, had finally cookied up the plans to world domination, and they required a massterant. Sadly a massterant had not been seen, or even written about, in nearly 800 years.
Mr. Fluffypants burst through the door. Uzi in hand, and wearing the skins of three different hollywood actors, he ravaged Bossington's hideout. Collecting the blood and gore into a syrup container, he finally had enough raw material to make his masterpiece - Fullfington Nosferatu Grendel Taco The Nineteenth. The previous Grendel Taco models had lacked that wonderful odor of peppermint. And also strawberries.
Returning to his lair in the sewers, Fluffypants brought all his alligator henchmen to the foyer, and presented his creation. It was a hideous abomination of human, squirrel, and tank parts. 3107 END.
I have about 9500 characters left, so you get a story.
*tab* The pepperidge was late. He was always late. Bastard could never be on time, even if his kid's life depended on it. The bacteria were getting nervous, and the carbonates just couldn't wait any longer.
Just as the cylinder turned, The pepperidge walked through the door. Covered in pillows and mammograms, he lunged at the gun, and ended up taking a raspberry bullet in the sternum.
Oozing, nay, spraying peppermint everywhere, The pepperidge crawled towards his gingerbread son, tied to the chair. Pepperidge slipped his son a note, which read:
You have a twin sister - Easter.
And then pepperidge promptly died.
Being that the Bossington had gotten what he wanted (the mammograms), and feeling especially cheery after seeing so much pepperidge, he decided to let the gingerbread boy go. This would prove to be his undoing.
Outside, and 1500 miles away, Gary Oldman stood at the precipice of an antique dealers, holding a cat.
Oldman is inconsequential. It's the cat that matters. Mr. Fluffypants had convinced Oldman to take him to this antique dealer's, Yousterday's Columns, so that he might find an artifact of great importance.
Gibb, as he had taken to being named, had been looking for his sister for almost 14 years before he found her. As a head in a jar in an alley between 31st street and Lincoln. Feeling mildly defeated, but not overly distraught, he brought his sister to an arpeggiator and had her head sewn onto an elephant, along with a synthesizer.
They did not get along.
10000 characters is too many for this story, and I think our plot is only up to about 7 so far. Maybe 9. But Spangland must prevail, and so we trudge ever onward.
The jackalope, loyal servant to the Bossington, had finally cookied up the plans to world domination, and they required a massterant. Sadly a massterant had not been seen, or even written about, in nearly 800 years.
Mr. Fluffypants burst through the door. Uzi in hand, and wearing the skins of three different hollywood actors, he ravaged Bossington's hideout. Collecting the blood and gore into a syrup container, he finally had enough raw material to make his masterpiece - Fullfington Nosferatu Grendel Taco The Nineteenth. The previous Grendel Taco models had lacked that wonderful odor of peppermint. And also strawberries.
Returning to his lair in the sewers, Fluffypants brought all his alligator henchmen to the foyer, and presented his creation. It was a hideous abomination of human, squirrel, and tank parts. 3107 END.