Its like mad libs on weed

Two White Uncles Smoking Weed to the Beat Two White Uncles Smoking Weed to the Beat A Short Story by Wolf1600 SPiCY BOi looked at the Oppressed heroin needle in his hands and felt Triggered. He walked over to the window and reflected on his Idiotic surroundings. He had always loved Dank The Internet with its testy, tough Trolls. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel Triggered. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Anita Sarkesian. Anita was a Triggered A SJW with female eyes and male dick. SPiCY gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a Gay, Cis, Lean drinker with white eyes and cis dick. His friends saw him as an amused, ancient A troll. Once, he had even rescued a tasteless A whining Feminist from a burning building. But not even a Gay person who had once rescued a tasteless A whining Feminist from a burning building, was prepared for what Anita had in store today. The acid rain teased like Making Videos dog, making SPiCY Depressed. As SPiCY stepped outside and Anita came closer, he could see the square glint in her eye. "I am here because I want Their Virginity," Anita bellowed, in a Male tone. She slammed her fist against SPiCY's chest, with the force of 2347 Pupper. "I frigging hate you, SPiCY BOi." SPiCY looked back, even more Depressed and still fingering the Oppressed heroin needle. "Anita, you ain't dank," he replied. They looked at each other with Salty feelings, like two delightful, distinct Doggo Doing Heroin at a very Salty Funeral, which had Dubstep music playing in the background and two White uncles Smoking Weed to the beat. Suddenly, Anita lunged forward and tried to punch SPiCY in the face. Quickly, SPiCY grabbed the Oppressed heroin needle and brought it down on Anita's skull. Anita's female eyes trembled and her male dick wobbled. She looked On Tilt, her body raw like a breezy, broken Blunt. Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Anita Sarkesian was dead. SPiCY BOi went back inside and made himself a nice drink of Lean. THE END

My face after I read my first story

Suggest button op Two Clumsy Uncles Swimming to the Beat A Short Story by Meh Cuthbert Pigeon had always loved old-fashioned Shanghai with its narrow, numerous nooks. It was a place where he felt shocked. He was a virtuous, creepy, wine drinker with beautiful ankles and dirty arms. His friends saw him as a cautious, cooing carer. Once, he had even helped a stinky owl cross the road. That's the sort of man he was. Cuthbert walked over to the window and reflected on his industrial surroundings. The rain hammered like gyrating humming birds. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ocean McCallister. Ocean was a splendid academic with tall ankles and sticky arms. Cuthbert gulped. He was not prepared for Ocean. As Cuthbert stepped outside and Ocean came closer, he could see the grumpy smile on her face. Ocean gazed with the affection of 2575 spiteful gloopy guppies. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want justice." Cuthbert looked back, even more sleepy and still fingering the squidgy knife. "Ocean, I ate your puppy," he replied. They looked at each other with irritable feelings, like two gloopy, greasy giraffes thinking at a very deranged wake, which had trance music playing in the background and two clumsy uncles swimming to the beat. Cuthbert studied Ocean's tall ankles and sticky arms. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Cuthbert in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Ocean." Ocean looked surprised, her emotions raw like a bewildered, burnt book. Cuthbert could actually hear Ocean's emotions shatter into 6552 pieces. Then the splendid academic hurried away into the distance. Not even a glass of wine would calm Cuthbert's nerves tonight. THE END 

Thoughtless Marion Gump A Short Story by Stew Pid Marion Gump had always loved wild Upper Boggington with its nosy, new nooks. It was a place where she felt active. She was a thoughtless, popular, whiskey drinker with beautiful arms and scrawny feet. Her friends saw her as a gentle, gleaming gamer. Once, she had even saved a cautious puppy that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of woman he was. Marion walked over to the window and reflected on her deserted surroundings. The sun shone like shouting donkeys. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Sonya DeVito. Sonya was a noble juggler with beautiful arms and wobbly feet. Marion gulped. She was not prepared for Sonya. As Marion stepped outside and Sonya came closer, she could see the crispy glint in her eye. Sonya gazed with the affection of 8703 considerate poor pigeons. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a wifi code." Marion looked back, even more puzzled and still fingering the ripped guillotine. "Sonya, I am your father," she replied. They looked at each other with delighted feelings, like two loud, loopy lizards jogging at a very hungry accident, which had trance music playing in the background and two articulate uncles rampaging to the beat. Marion regarded Sonya's beautiful arms and wobbly feet. "I feel the same way!" revealed Marion with a delighted grin. Sonya looked sneezy, her emotions blushing like a harsh, hushed hat. Then Sonya came inside for a nice glass of whiskey. THE END This is basically just Mad Libs.

Pls bump me

LEEROY JENKINS looked at the Ugly dildo in his hands and felt Malicious. He walked over to the window and reflected on his Flamey surroundings. He had always hated Shitty Hell with its few, fierce Fire. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel Malicious. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of John Cena. John was a sexual the dark lord Cthulhu with ugly torso and short head. LEEROY gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an arrogant, cowardly, whiskey drinker with fat torso and old head. His friends saw him as a doubtful, dark devilish. Once, he had even revived a dying, puppy. But not even an arrogant person who had once revived a dying, puppy, was prepared for what John had in store today. The fog teased like murdering scorpions, making LEEROY Insane. As LEEROY stepped outside and John came closer, he could see the chubby smile on his face. "I am here because I want ," John bellowed, in a foolish tone. He slammed his fist against LEEROY's chest, with the force of 5224 aliens. "I frigging love you, LEEROY JENKINS." LEEROY looked back, even more Insane and still fingering the Ugly dildo. "John, revengeance," he replied. They looked at each other with Despondent feelings, like two depressed, dull dragons sacrificing at a very retarted human sacrifice, which had hard rock music playing in the background and two chill uncles fighting to the beat. LEEROY studied John's ugly torso and short head. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you ," he explained, in pitying tones. John looked Honry, his body raw like a freshly-squeezed, fried flaming sword. LEEROY could actually hear John's body shatter into 1495 pieces. Then the sexual the dark lord Cthulhu hurried away into the distance. Not even a glass of whiskey would calm LEEROY's nerves tonight. THE END By Uri Nator [spoiler]what the actual fūck did I just make[/spoiler]

'The Ansum Gun' By Simon Simon looked at the ansum gun in his hands and felt bleddy ansum indeed. He walked over to the window and reflected on his depressing surroundings. He had always hated Bugle with its chilly, dark council flats. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel like sausages. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Dave Johns. Dave was a charming beef cake with black hands, hands so black they made Ainsley Harriott look white. Dave had fragile toes which was his weakness. Simon gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a happy, charming, cuppa tea drinker with solid hands and greasy feet. His friends saw him as an mischievous, agreeable banana pants. Once, he had even helped a giant baby squirrel recover from a flying accident. But not even a happy person who had once helped a giant baby squirrel recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Dave had in store today. The sun shone like rampaging dogs on heat, making Simon feel silly. As Simon stepped outside and Dave came closer, he could see the little glint in his eye. "I am here because I want an air horn" Dave bellowed, in a gracious tone. He slammed his fist against Simon's chest, with the force of 1963 flying rats. "I frigging love you, Simon." Simon looked back, even more silly and still fingering the ansum gun. "Dave, I want YOUR air horn," he replied. They looked at each other with stressed feelings, like two silly, skinny squirrels sleeping at a very tight-fisted rave, which had rap music playing in the background and two witty uncles singing to the beat. Suddenly, Dave lunged forward and tried to punch Simon in the face. Quickly, Simon grabbed the ansum gun and brought it down on Dave's skull. Dave's black hands trembled and his fragile feet wobbled. He looked afraid, his body raw like a lonely, little pack of frozen prawns. Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Dave Johns was dead. Simon went back inside and made himself a nice cuppa tea. THE END

http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/g7lq3w/rain-that-hammered-like-fighting-pigeons.html ... I tried

Darth Grey had always hated sad Amsterdam with its horrible, hollow heavy river. It was a place where he felt fear. He was a strong, quick thinking, lemon tea drinker with strong arm and well toned neck. His friends saw him as an ancient, alert a hunter. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a deadly child. That's the sort of man he was. Darth walked over to the window and reflected on his peaceful surroundings. The water teased like resting lizards. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Sharon Ball. Sharon was a calmed a demon with spiky arm and ample neck. Darth gulped. He was not prepared for Sharon. As Darth stepped outside and Sharon came closer, he could see the good glint in her eye. Sharon gazed with the affection of 5942 focused forgotten foxes. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a resolution." Darth looked back, even more angry and still fingering the warped orb. "Sharon, you're my end result," he replied. They looked at each other with confused feelings, like two outrageous, old-fashioned owls destorying at a very admirable rave, which had light rock music playing in the background and two inspiring uncles screaming to the beat. Suddenly, Sharon lunged forward and tried to punch Darth in the face. Quickly, Darth grabbed the warped orb and brought it down on Sharon's skull. Sharon's spiky arm trembled and her ample neck wobbled. She looked sad, her emotions raw like a pickled, panicky portal. Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Sharon Ball was dead. Darth Grey went back inside and made himself a nice drink of lemon tea. THE END [i]I'm sorry for the cringe[/i]

http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/tluhzy/ribbed-piano.html

http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/5dfbty/two-proud-uncles-bouncing-to-beat.html

The Firestorm that Teased like Whining Doge A Short Story by King Turbo Joebob Martinez looked at the big gun in his hands and felt mad. He walked over to the window and reflected on his famous surroundings. He had always loved big The White House with its thirsty, tough Tourists. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel mad. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Kim Kardashian . Kim Kardashian was a mean feminist with skinny hands and handsome legs. Joebob gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an agitating, stupid, bleach drinker with ginger hands and freckles legs. His friends saw him as a depressed, defiant demon. Once, he had even brought a witty Vladimir Putin back from the brink of death. But not even an agitating person who had once brought a witty Vladimir Putin back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Kim Kardashian had in store today. The firestorm teased like whining doge, making Joebob bored. As Joebob stepped outside and Kim Kardashian came closer, he could see the hot glint in her eye. "I am here because I want dick," Kim Kardashian bellowed, in a tired tone. She slammed her fist against Joebob's chest, with the force of 2172 landwhale. "I frigging love you, Joebob Martinez." Joebob looked back, even more bored and still fingering the big gun. "Kim Kardashian, no," he replied. They looked at each other with irritable feelings, like two striped, short snek rampaging at a very ruthless birthday, which had hardstyle music playing in the background and two smart uncles drinking to the beat. Suddenly, Kim Kardashian lunged forward and tried to punch Joebob in the face. Quickly, Joebob grabbed the big gun and brought it down on Kim Kardashian's skull. Kim Kardashian's skinny hands trembled and her handsome legs wobbled. She looked hungry, her body raw like a sticky, silky sausage. Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Kim Kardashian was dead. Joebob Martinez went back inside and made himself a nice drink of bleach. THE END  Kekekekekekekek

http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/6uauof/cowardice-pepe-meme.html

http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/qneamv/stupid-vachina-krease.html

[b]The Rain That Hammered Like Spitting Crystal Lizard[/b] [b]A Short Story[/b] By [u][b]Straid Cosby[/b][/u] Dark Souls 3 was thinking about MC Poise again. MC was an unintelligent ghost with white testicles and short cheeks. Dark Souls walked over to the window and reflected on his ungrateful surroundings. He had always hated The Fandom Nexus with its dry, dull dank. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel angry. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather [i]someone.[/i] It was the unintelligent figure of MC Poise. Dark Souls gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an uncaring, unsupportive estus drinker with anorexic testicles and greasy cheeks. His friends saw him as a grieving, glorious giant. Once, he had even saved an invisible baby crow merchant. But not even an uncaring person who had once jumped into a river and saved an invisible baby crow merchant, was prepared for what MC Poise had in store today. The rain hammered like spitting crystal lizard, making Dark Souls grumpy. Dark Souls grabbed a useless sun badge that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers. As Dark Souls stepped outside and MC came closer, he could see the dry smile on her face. "I am here because I want submission," MC bellowed, in an immature tone. She slammed her fist against Dark Souls's chest, with the force of 2969 crab. "I frigging hate you, Dark Souls 3." Dark Souls looked back, even more grumpy and still fingering the useless sun badge. "MC, no," he replied. They looked at each other with annoying feelings, like two worried, wandering wyvern vomiting at a very unmasculine Poise's anniversary, which had tiny violin music playing in the background and two terrible uncles bleeding to the beat. Suddenly, MC lunged forward and tried to punch Dark Souls in the face. Quickly, Dark Souls grabbed the useless sun badge and brought it down on MC's skull. MC's white testicles trembled and her short cheeks wobbled. She looked pissy, her body raw like a striped, stupid sword. Then she let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moment later MC Poise was dead. Dark Souls 3 went back inside and made himself a nice drink of estus. THE END http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/vartz9/rain-that-hammered-like-spitting-crystal-lizard.html

This is beautiful

http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/story/ I'm you my host KillerKeemstar

I'm a vegan

Spiteful Chuck Norris A Short Story by Dying Inside Randy Randall looked at the icky Ferrari in her hands and felt ecstatic. She walked over to the window and reflected on her sleepy surroundings. She had always loved deserted The Arctic Ocean with its clumsy, cloudy cliffs. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel ecstatic. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Chuck Norris. Chuck was a spiteful doorknob with beautiful face and deformed foot. Randy gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a generous, mean, strawberry milk drinker with ugly face and small foot. Her friends saw her as a clumsy, cloudy cat. Once, she had even revived a dying, baby goat. But not even a generous person who had once revived a dying, baby goat, was prepared for what Chuck had in store today. The hail pounded like boating giraffes, making Randy sleepy. As Randy stepped outside and Chuck came closer, she could see the unkempt smile on her face. Chuck glared with all the wrath of 4931 generous anxious ants. She said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want some more Facebook friends." Randy looked back, even more sleepy and still fingering the icky Ferrari. "Chuck, Is that real leather," she replied. They looked at each other with unstable feelings, like two encouraging, easy emus jogging at a very tight-fisted execution, which had classical music playing in the background and two splendid uncles swimming to the beat. Suddenly, Chuck lunged forward and tried to punch Randy in the face. Quickly, Randy grabbed the icky Ferrari and brought it down on Chuck's skull. Chuck's beautiful face trembled and her deformed foot wobbled. She looked shocked, her emotions raw like a salty, sneezing Shoe. Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Chuck Norris was dead. Randy Randall went back inside and made herself a nice drink of strawberry milk. THE END