I declare: This should be the final update of the Four Word Story Game.
Every story needs an ending, and because someone (galenow) broke the rules, and posted twice in a row, this story has come to an end.
Enjoy:
Once upon a time, in a far off tea pot filled with highly acidic toxic waste, there lived a small and insecure white rabbit, who had three legs and lots of zits. He loved to eat eggs, sausage, and spam. He ate with his his mouth, however, he could not digest waffles, due to a plastic dick in the mouth. It was put there for a massive laugh, but there were none... and remained none until the cows came home, the fat lady sang in Acadian French, and with a Japaneses accent. The little bunny, however, wondered, as it plummeted through the teapot at point-blank range, if "someone, somewhere would save the whales and snails in the Ozark mountains?" Coincidentally, this coincided with banging heads against doors and mandatory drug testing, along with physical training, stampeding through the Vatican with an anti-vampire cannon, firing upon the clergy to get breath mints. However, the plastic attachment was not meant to be used so erotically. So, in the end, the tripod rabbit fainted, attracting a ravenous fox who had never seen such a discreditable piece of crappy old shit more notably found in the pants of a an extremely drunk clown.
Suddenly, a pirate ship filled to the brim, with not much room, due to copious amounts, and really, really, stacked piles of sugary sweets designed for teeth rotting and general cavity creation "TAFFY! Lots of it!" cried the young man! Then he ate until the bunny stepped in a cleverly hidden, yet hiding in plain sight from the big ass, on his little bit of teapot left in the dark, glowing refrigerator that softly hummed a/with a flourescent glow. While emitting radon gas and alpha grade radiation, with an immunity to red, red, wine...makes the ceramic teapot very difficult to steer. Perhaps if the bunny learnt anything, is that plastic does not digest well when soaked in tea, like a certain harbor. Write porn about harbor, which seriously offends the bind men in Japan who won the bronze spittoon of the crazy, cuboid, canvas catamaran crew, who are particularly famous for eating in darkness, with no soup spoons. "But, what is the deal with those damn women that weep spiders from every surmountable crevice?" This meant little to the three-legged, acne-prone bunny, who lived in teapots containing acidic toxic waste, along with bottomless pits of unregulated toxic feelings. Either way, he decided: "That's it! I'm gonna...find me a new evil looking doom thingy that is not constructed of pretty pink things in the bathroom toilet! It'll be made of round rubber balls and soft inner bits stored within the vacuum of space no one can hear you scream, 'OW!', and I didn't expect that to happen so, I peed my pants at such a violent... It felt so good, but... seriously, Vicar, isn't time for tea already?"
"Piss off!" said Vicar, hurting the bunny's feelings. Brandishing a carving knife, "Oh not again" she declared (the vicar's wife) walking away in disgust. The room was furnished in dark red mahogany. Blood stained the walls, with various urine stains with other bodily fluids. "But it is my destiny to follow through." "Thou Shalt Be Cleansed!" interrupted the psychotic vicar. "Chirp, Chirp, Chirp" sang the bunny in confusion. The wind whistled through his ears as he imagined being somewhere happier, despite his current predicament. Being loved by eight psychotic elderly granny packers, who work at a parallel universe ruled by a sexy bunny-earred attorney, who had a whip with lots of spikes, welsh rarebits and slimely eyes which are green.
"Help! I'm trapped" screamed something inside the whip. Two tiny turquoise tortoises appeared to help the pink rhinoceros from the alternate dimension of doom, whose hand just reached into the inter-stellar plane and found snakes living, saw the little goblin whore sucking an ogre's Sunday roast, when he bumped into a fishbowl containing evil floating cow. Eyes that were crossed across the bunnies nose, fish which eat humans with a bechamael sauce paired with Beaujolais Nouveau, and enjoyed a mint, an after-eight mint, actually, with some cognac which contained a mild hallucinogen derived from jellyfish torsos and bad German ale, which was fermented in a barrel of goat's cheese stuff with lots of internal organs that were rotting and festering in pineapple juice from the Tropic of Cancer (in the southern part). Anyway, the bunny felt that the current economic crisis needed to be dealt with by a really, really, big explosion of thermite. Inside, the bunny's little chocolate starfish was chopped up into five equal sized pieces, and distributed to only his most closest friends. Spoke softly, "In a large sombrero with corn and doing a jaunty waltz, with a hobo." As he surveyed the carnage he wrought, in despair, among the many dead teapots surrounding it's own teapot house. "Well, I didn't expect the Spanish inquisition to-" "NOBODY EXPECTS TH'SPANISH INQUISITION! Our chief weapons are... small washing-up trays, and my favorite color is turqoise, to be different and strange, and also very tight fitting with pert little pink buttocks!"
The bunny stared, dumbfounded, at the strange men who undulated softly, as tiny caterpillars wove around their perfectly ironed neck-ties. Then, Herr Flick entered, conducting another crappy plan to capture Rene, and find the painting of the beer and bratwurst still-life. Unfortunately, the pink bunny became hopping mad, so it tried the dark-side, and got lost in his teapot. Getting there was a difficult task, since everything was covered in pure, black darkness. A pin-hole of light, no bigger than a very hairy nasal hole used for snorting-up spaghetti. "It's the sauce" she coldly whispered. "You must use the force to open this lid." Honesty...was not the bunny's cup of tea, as a diagnosed pathological liar burst into the room. "The tension grew like undue kudzu in Kalamazoo, whatever that meant" thought the attorney yelling "OBJECTION!"
"OVERRULED!" shouted Judge Taylor. "Damn, I need more... monkey rib BBQ sauce to fill this large rounded polystyrene sphere, which hummed 'Die Fledermaus', poorly". Thirty seconds later, it start raining cats and frogs from the sky "Hop to It!!!" Bellowed the crazy, vicar's wife. "They be witchcraftin' tonight! Down on the downs! All by myself, don't stop now!"
The End.
E^D
