this is story.

[Plarkreluke Banloboh]

for a large

[triachus]

book filled with sea shanties

[beerwolf]

and salty thrusts

[J3FF3R00]

of a paraplegic gerbil's pelvis

[triachus]

.

 

Therefore, Fruit Calculus bought a

[BCM]

new dimension to

[spratters]

the ever changing effects of

[Zephyr_Nova]

the 4th dimension on our

[Guest the anonymous forumite]

mega troon subforum

[Soloman Tump]

where the titties thread exists.

[beerwolf]

and gay cock

[Ivan Ooze]

ruptured remains in doggy bagg

[beerwolf]

floating in puddles

[Goiter Sanchez]

of forgotten piss.

[beerwolf]

roasted moose scrotum

[Goiter Sanchez]

was his maiden name.

[beerwolf]

big hairy wart

[BCM]

was his indian name.

[triachus]

He went on a mission

 

(the story so far! ->)

 

Watmm was very sad and depressed because three words hurt their feelings. Now watmm will be without tits or asses forever because JR can't appreciate them titties "new rules, cunts!" because tits are jr's nagging phobia and give him nightmares of being stuck in a giant titty.

 

There is not story or is there? Yep, there is. It goes like this...

 

In a world where sweaty balls drift up stream there r bitches everywhere, three tittied women dream about being pleased all day by the very best vanilla ice cream who kill for beans, spleens, and cocks - they suck feverishly, ferociously, unabashedly at the teat In the heat on the beat and then everyone died. Corpses, then fucked up beats and innocence, viciously martyred as was prophecied by the elder scrolls. The Argonian scrotum wrinkle gazette Big booby Tit Machine was malfunctioning, and flesh is weak and wholly delicious so instead, metal unlike the fleshlight didn't provide satisfaction, that messy implement, resuming its journey into rectal territories beyond your wildest squats. Richard James, wet, quilled chasms felt quite good, so much so, he came in Cytherean arcs which watmm rated a jazzband facepalm fart with boner index of 90101 as certified by Shannon Doherty famous for her statewide sandwich competition. Masonic Boom waited. The lights were made of cheddar cheese. A yonder light twinkled, sprinkled, tinkled. Like a rapidly descending dong, a donkey dong in the face of a blatant accusation like skrillex being avantgarde. I just lolled. As did I.

 

We, the people of the WATMM hereby declare that each Thursday, from about tea time into morning hours, all members MUSTgrab their ankles and sing thusly: "I'm a little salad greens with many interesting tentacles, curry powder and a slight hint of a certain element that could under certain circumstances be cheese". Afterwards you may, if Fox Mulder will take the brawny girl called Susan and impale her subconscious mind, where by "mind" I mean a bubble of underwear with pink antennae and sirch's raging haemorrhoids which smell rather like the plaid subforum.

 

I can't emphasize the wrong syl-lab-le enough. So let's emphasize my other quality: My extroverted coprophilia. I particularly enjoy [REDACTED] with an old lady and the succulent smell of farts caustically burning my UGH NOSE TO TINGLE in the dingle which clingeth to the hairs of several large manbears. The verbal limitation of imitation information, rhyming as masturbation, of scrotum oscillation while hearing The Temptations. Enough about myself! perchance I eat da poopoo some other time. How about fried fart cheese [thrashbear] on your bagel, no?

 

"We shant be having that. However, nougat seems to be delectable", Alice replied. Mad Hatter laid his dick on the platter and frightened everyone. "Max 5 words!", Alice moaned. But the nougat flowed onto the kalashnikov by Tweedledum's side; many large erections followed suit, upsetting the tea table and inducing mass ectopic pregnancies within six months after growth-hormone was administered. The beast became a serious follower of Jainism but forgot to flush out the keys to his skoda octavia. Lets drive to brazil, via grantham while openly pleasuring a small rodent.

 

We listened to Cmdr 'Pussy2Good' on repeat for days. "Did I say 'shant'? I meant 'shart'," mused WIlliam. Suddenly, Will.I.am grabbed a hold of Will Smith and stuck his willy into her will she willingly wrote for a couple of blue cheese specialists. "I'd rather specialize Alison Brie", ejaculated Brian Blessed while sneezing. Often, Brian liked to insert his beard into fetid bags of freshly roasted bat faeces. "A plastic cup", thought BCM randomly. One cup contains myriad Briegasms. The other, a small red mushroom. "Cum and mushroom smell alike!" Yelped Blessed senselessly.

 

"Call me Ishmael" said Joyrex, taking the mushroom rectally, and then orally, ignoring disapproving looks. So they said unto Joyshmael: Please to thank the taint please. The roarous applause deafened the blind monks who mistook the applause for a stampede of Autistic German Seamstresses in a bad mood.

 

Now, back to the back of the strange caves of Krathog. An old hermit purified himself in Lake Minnetonka exhorting baph to chatmm and he emptied his bowels in anguish crying desperately his wish to be relieved of his curry-induced diarrhea. That caught the attention of The Church Of Scientology. Suddenly Tom Cruise became sane. Lol j/k. He did yoyo tricks too close to Craig Anderson's face. Craig's reaction was like this: Chapter II: The Knurled Shaft of Ray Charles' Induratio Penis Plastica.[/center]

 

He set down his dildo collection and vowed to never release another Aphex album. "I'll stick to my Elton John pseudonym" he thought. And then the rain started. "How odd that the rain was purple and smelled of piss." Prince pranced purplely whilst blue and red lights glistened like tears in rain--cold November rain. He realized nothing lasts forever except The Simpsons. "Bart get out I'm piss" he cried into his spaghetti whilst drinking an fuckload of bees. Oprah lifted her grool-soaked nightie out of Calista Flockhart's gaping bathroom window. Then came the kool-ade man and his pitcher full-of boiled deer ovaries marinated in purple koolaid and crystal meth.

 

Then the mayor appeared, bedazzled with semen chocolate chips, jiggling his glorious tittyballs. "I hereby declare that IDM- Fuck fuck fuck wrong speech, where's my cards? Troon took them away from their mother." The teleprompter, faster than you can say 'Faster than you can say', said some stuff really fast. Meanwhile in LTM-forum, everyone was banned because of some weird banning virus. 'Minaj's ass was too big' was it's awkward virus name. It gave everyone a boner even the women and women-kids, who had been infected. The only cure was dressing up like Batman and harvesting Vespene Gas using only a bicycle pump. "You must construct additional pylons" said the Gereralissimo. "Now, three people must die." But who to kill? The Generalissimo glances in Sirch's direction who was busy massaging his own ego with fish oil. Sirch protested vehemently, "When Joyrex unfurled I was harvesting Yak's milk when I heard milk Yak's herd. But no Vespene. Sorry duder." "Homogenic was better anyway," interjected Homer the Homogenous Homophile.

 

Ain't it funny how White people always try to talk like this, while black. But can't best Black Dynamite. Anyway Sirch was confused so he grabbed an awl, awled gaargs pussy, unaware of gaarg's dentata defenses. Michael Strahan proceeded with his plan to punt the referee's buttocks from WAAAY down town. Said plan involved stealing a shipment of rehabilitated espionage llamas for covert operations OR SO WE THOUGHT. It's all a ruse concocted in the secrete to baffle the boffins from The Land of Puffins! Jefferoo jungled junglily as usagis banjo string perforated abusivegeorge's veiny hymen, making me wet, and he gushed all over and the perforated Hymen became slightly offended. Suddenly the hymen grew wings but didn't know what wings were. So it never flew. Fuck. That could have been the end.

 

Luckily, Meryl Streep chanced by. She was covered in hummus. Unluckily, she was then savagely mauled by a Bengal Tiger which had escaped from a nearby circus. It fellated her guts out. Real fucking nice. "Stop fucking Nice", France said. "I'm sorry - what?", said the tiger. "You don't know Nice? It's all about surprise sex.". Meryl and the hymen flew right above the field of Dreams (with Kevin Costner) exclaiming "If you make it into a statue of dry semen I will finally pupate and I will come." Reference completed. Costner ran from the cum but he kept making new wicker effigies of Daniel Day-Lewis auto-felatting himself while watching the ride prickface-esquely, as we all do. "I don't." said a narcoleptic man standing over the pit of terror, his anus exposed, into Meryl Streeps eyes, causing her spontaneous combustion to smell like Jenkem poured into boiling piss spread onto toast for Hardy.

 

 

CHAPTER THREE: The Slaughtering of Nine Arabian Penis-Monsters by The Pansexual Infidel Horde Led To The Inevitable Rise of A Syncretic Penis Worship Cult Leader? George Bush.

 

 

Meanwhile in Qatar...Quatarian volleyball players were devising new chess strategies when they discovered StephenG was posting too much and proceeded to destroy mercury. Then Morgan Freeman asked us politely to leave. With that dulcet tone. Then dispensed with politeness and shouted "GET OUT, GET THE FUCK OUT!!". Then anally fucked Jefferoo. Which was uncalled for. Just a skull fuck would do. In other news, white people are going to Nascar.

 

- Oh fuck yeah! -

 

Meanwhile on Saint Helena; the secret Buddhist 'Fight-Club' was about to commence with their annual potluck novelty "lucky-dip" tombola accompanied by throat singers doing covers of Fucked With A Knife by Cannibal Corpse. "FIVEWORDSMAX!", Shouted Johnny Rotten "fuck that" said Sid Vicious, then did a load of smack. Which was his only talent and why he is dead. "Tragedy strikes again" sang the Bee Gee. "Billy Crystal BCBG Billy Goat means nothing to me." Said Midge Ure. "Who?" Said Damon Albarn while smoking a hookah and telling crap stories of the literal fecal variety: "It was the poop of times... it was the pee-pee of times". The book was a bestseller in Nigeria. That's because it resonated with militant jihadists in the poo-poo. They call their life a spectacular ball-busting incorrect and confusing use of english. Now let's get this fucking thing back on track.

 

By the fuck! I say we all eat da poo-poo platter. "No" said platter haters. "Yes" said platter lovers.Things were about to get ugly. So Sarah Jessica Parker appeared in full saddle and stirrups on a gay humpback whale called Clarence Abdul Christian Rosenberg Rodriguez Rodriguez Rodriguez Rodriguez VI and Pope Gregory the 9th having been freshly invigorated by the cool breeze sweeping between the clefts of their manly buttocks. And those were wondrous days; In the days after they harvested shrimp, bathed in applesauce,

 

One day, Dr. Martin Ssempa left jefferoo's sentence unfinished, cuntishly, and sculpted busts of Powers Booth eating da poo-poo. "Stop saying that!" cried while furiously strangulating the sentence structure. (lol) "What the fuck"... said spratters when Wang fell off his Chinese bicycle right into Dong without pants on, upsetting the Chinese administration greatly. With great vengeance and furious anger, they shall avenge their fallen brother. "Those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers with more than three words and.... your peeeeeeeee----" squealed Sirch before clutching his chest and keeling over, stone dead. Although 5 words was acceptable. Then Sirch went to McDonalds, to search for zombie cures and smoked salvia with Ronald 'The Story Is Offically Broken' Mcdonald. A strange nickname, his.

 

Anyhoo, on the other side of the moon, Pink Floyd looked, saw spot run. They decided that this was a silly place. "Let's find a strange woman," said the ghost of Picasso. Picasso seduced a cactus with his "jerkin" dance skills. She blushed...farted... and envaginated an entire cantaloupe. Cactus, fruit, what's next? "Whiskey and wild women!" said the obese lady of night. Her pendulous tits caused Joyrex round his ankles, forcing him to actually read the previous sentence before posting. So Picasso was like: "Lavate, which is beneficial. Lol you guys!" he chortled. And he kept chortling, until his head fell off. The head rolled and rolled, until Rick y Gervais stopped it with his incredible mind powers in a socially awkward way that suggested Kim Il-Sung buy stock in Red Lobster. Which he did. Then Gervais looked at head and believe it or not he stopped being so smug. Then one day Karl Pilkington also looked at head, penises touched, and picasso's disembodied head lol'd at dem babylon bumbaclot raping jah's fullness of creashan and ting, seen?

 

And at this very moment, somewhere in space, he still sings of raindrops on roses and Mr Dobalina, Mr Bob Dobalina who, we all know as the single-most IDM man ever, as it is written in the FLS Bible written by Flying Lotus. Thom Yorke wanted so badly to be included but he'd already promised Fourtet to cut his hedge so had to miss out on the wonkiness of FlyLo's soggy space rocket effluence. "Yo Nigga, this is some quality shit." Said Thom's wonky eye. "This is it!" said his good eye. "I'm leaving!" said Gerard Depardieu... Now all I have to do is find my legs which were recently voted off the island. They were last seen hot-footing it towards Mr. Manimal, from YouTube, who promptly got convicted for being too well toned and defecating on Tom Cruise's feet. Cruise's scatological fetishes allowed him to eat... Da......na International's cleft.

 

Meanwhile; in a Berlin brothel, Ralph Macchio was plotting a terrible revenge. To people who never heard of him. He hated his goddamned bike. It was a shiny red tricycle that had a oyster compartment and a Peewee Herman helmet. He injected 2CB in butthole, just as my dream prophesized; a broken man's dream... of living next door to alice, for 24 years, completely nonconsecutively. "I love bitches" stated Putin, while he sat on the Ritz crackers he'd just bought. It was the only way to let dem crackers pay for the death of his favorite hamster and Pussy Riot.

 

 

 

CHAPTER III: The Exceptionally Solid Bowel Movement.

 

It was a crew dem Rasta 2-step and ting, mwa ombrayla jam BOOYAKKA in your punani.

 

 

 

Chapter IV: Thom Yorke's Wonky Eye Went To McDonalds Where He Ordered a Generous Serve of Nicki Minaj's Ass With Side Helpings of Courtney Love's Tits.

 

Ronald McDonald said to Thom, "It is Burial who knocked up Grimace, no?". Then they fucked, passionately. Their baby was named Wonky Clown and soon developed severe coulrophobia, allergies to environmental blogpost whinings, lots and lots of aids, and shit like dat. Despite his shit like dat, Wonky Clown was not amused with the turn of events leading up to ThomRon's divorce. They split because he refused to accept Interac for sex. So Wonky Clown went on journey to Reedham and fucked Squarepusher's mom over on a high risk investment in a forthcoming Ronaldpusher collaboration organised by Baselogic Productions. and released on 7" vinyl "Periods Never Really End Sentances". Spelling errors forced the vinyl's deletion, but Ceephax came to the rescue! He tattooed Wonky's penis with an old knitting needle. It was a picture of a monkeys vagina.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5: Wading Through The Piles of Paperwork Stacked Up on His Desk, The Drag Queen Realized That Nothing Was Easy When It Came To Making Mountains of Blood and Excrement From a Family of Porcupines.

 

"My name is Bloodscrement Mountain," said the baguette. Papa Porcupine, AKA "The Baguette Bandit", was drafted in to avenge the death of Mr. Roy, the Toxic Boy of Constantinople. It all happened within five minutes of Your Mums Abortion; a decent restaurant with an unfortunate name. Slated by "TimeOut" but loved by the cast of Cheers. Ironically, nobody knows your name and they're never glad you took that trip to Milwaukee drunk, high and wearing pink lingerie. A volcano inexplicably erupts over Neo-Philadelphia. Will Smith looked to the sky and said: "Whose Boysenberry Flan is this?". It was cooked to perfection none other than 17 minutes beforehand. He scoffed it down and had a furious wank.

 

Vital premature ejaculation emancipation proclamation desensitization insemination ruined story thread. Some members of the team seemed to be causing problems fabricating child pornography. "Lol lol lol" said the man with the goat. He then opened a can of worms by demanding a mauve, right-angled car washing machine on same-day delivery to Broxbourne county council; but he also literally opened up a letter envelop. Saying: "Bull Wallet soon". Obel laughed heartily on the outside, but inside, because a can-opener is inside him, he was in considerable discomfort. Yet he managed to have a wank and collect the semen for four years, before he could be re-elected as a clown tripping rootin' tootin' increasing-post-count and rewriting '1984' in Tagalog. Tagalog that a Filipino ladyboy obviously wrote with liposuctioned fat and a carrot.

 

"Whos cheese is this?" asked Megan Fox's pet dwarf, Jermy The Bean Man. Just kidding; that didn't happen. It was actually Susan Sarandon's vagina monster with lasers that shoot peas.

 

Wonky Clown returned because glunk said so. But this time he was to ream yonder. Yonder was like: "Wonky, dude, his pagan mask fell off man, put the fucking thing back over his face!". Burrowing feverishly savagely thuggishly ruggishly truly madly deeply— "You guys are really bad at this", thought Wonky. Yonder was like: "Wonky, dude, stop teaching fruit Calculus!" Thus, Fruit Calculus remained mentorless, and generally disenchanted with his sexuality. Even though his large thighs spoke of mysterious lust for a large book filled with sea shanties and salty thrusts of a paraplegic gerbil's pelvis. Therefore, Fruit Calculus bought a new dimension to the ever changing effects of the 4th dimension on our mega troon subforum where the titties thread exists. And gay cock.

 

Ruptured remains in doggy bagg, floating in puddles of forgotten piss. Roasted Moose Scrotum was his maiden name. Big Hairy Wart, was his Indian name. He went on a mission

 

 

[Blir]

on a horse with

[Ivan Ooze]

3 or 5 malignant tumours

[Goiter Sanchez]

Each tumour had a story;

[delet...]

It has been suggested that the flow of the story has derailed. If this decision is particularly jarring to some, the thread may be reopened.

[delet...]

After some input, it has been considered on balance, that people want the thread re-opened. However, if meritless and directionless "roasted moose scrotum" style additions to the story reappear with the same frequency, this conjunction of the planets may fall out of alignment.

[Guest Sprigg]

each tumour had a name.