Three Word Story Compilation Compilation...
For your viewing pleasure, I've compiled a compilation of compilations...
One day LazyBastard murdered DarkSerge accidentally for making things that do nothing to LiquidManZero that he keeps posting on this ancient board that Lazy still digs. Final Fantasy number Ninety-Four brings me a donut-filled donut filled with two people posting like monkeys in those black and clear metal plastic wooden glass things that make me so hot that I take my shirt off and eat a donut underwater, with cats and that little perverted midget, TruWizdom tickling my every fancy. I love you Lazy|Bastard so just kill you with my shotgun full of cream puffs and ice cream Hex Bits that made me get the munchies. After I get liposuction, I split it up 50/50, make some soap with TheDonut and cheap fried chicken unless, of course, you're completely broke and need to bribe someone - then you're screwed. Especially if TruWizdom gets a really really happy expression on his face in a perverted family restaurant called Fawk N' Feed. I went there, got drunk, raped, and fed. The next thing I did was wear bra's and panties on my face and under my wig I stole from LazyBastard. He killed the owner of GSHIB0 that got rather lazy and didn't bother to notice his own death. That Chocobo Greens Beer got me so very much wasted and stuff. In reference to pants, it leaves me without saying goodbye to myself again, in reverse, though an infinite stupidity. Nocturnal RAM hackers that are alcoholics are double the having hangover fun except that most lazy game hackers don't even have Tickle Me Elmos or anything squishy. Holy shit, this makes some sense kind of like caffienated cereal does. And now it's seven pages long and those little crunchy edible things aren't quite as hangover malted flavored and it's over.
Well, it looks like another one has escaped from the mighty hand held gaming platform of four dimensional hackorific evil l33tness to wreak some drunkeness upon RPGod. That's expected, but it doesn't work until we all are hackorific hexbits fiends, willing to write bad games with NYPD's help (before killing him) in an effort to fight Evil bad game laws of questionable usefullness. That was just drunken perverted babble of RPGod fashion, without the pissing and moaning, underneath a cloudy sky threatening to go from bad to bright absinthe green and cause mild drunkeness. So we blatantly lie to not drunk people not cognizant of things RPGod said the day before the universe ended. All this happened because GSHI failed to mention the destructive NYPD effect in Quantum Physics or with nachos. Please don't sue about moogle usage because dude, we aren't so hackorific. In - overdue - closing, very drunkenly we eat our own spam, vienna sausages, mountain oysters, and really cheap beer until everything starts yet another time.
Oh, my darling, I never wanted our child to eat my nachos, but Whoops. So damn it all to hell and whatnot, RPGod's not drunk, RPGod's not drunk, just keep telling yourself that repeatedly like a mantra that came on American Idol. What the fuck just ran through our bowl of nachos? Whatever it was, it was ugly, and can't be very well made, dude. The Chinese have no nachos, which explains Shang Resource id # 8, the nacho simulator for NES. A good way to eat nachos is underwater, but without breathing cheese, there's really no reason. Some idiot once said "One of these days, Bang! Boom! straight up a whale's integumentary system, like RPGod's foul-smelling excuse for a beer substitute." So exactly why does a chocobo eat with its face, instead of a kind of elongated, not remotely genital appendage of immensely small size? Well, that should end all questions, so please just get us drunk.
Well, son of an inhuman thing, please just let some bastard do the evil things nobody else would. If you don't, TheDonut will eat one person per Sony game system. Mathematically, this means nothing in particular, aside from the complicated formula involving...they were doing just a few more beer rounds...something totally different came out of Munk's donut hole, and spit a chocobo to barbecue, who tried to steal Edgar's stash, which contained one pound 'Grade S', which weighed over half nothing. This meant that Edgar had been awake for two minutes, playing with a really big and new RPG called "Who Shot A Hole In RPGod's Left Hairy Nut In South Central, East Of Where The Western Part Is Really North Sometimes?" Whenever we do whatever we say whatever we wanna do, it seemed too big to fit in TheDonut's pants. He started to tug on something there, and all of the candy fell in RPGod's mouth. He then chewed drunkenly until one second after starting, at which point he just stopped. DarkSerge suddenly walks with a funny midgit, who juggles three jobs because his wife wastes cash on the internet, buying beer for the mailman; that fuck. Well, it happened again: we forgot that bastards are lazy, so they fuck very little. Thus Viagra was needed, but with a lot of caffeine.
Damn! Just last night I drank a keg of root beer and some fried chicken tried to kill Darkserge again. He thought about how drunk off rootbeer he'd gotten; that was really cheap, but didn't feel any good. So why not just chug some booze, kill some chickens, tip some cows, fall over and breaks his hand in present tense. Later that night, he goes to jerk the weasel, which killed many things that LiquidManZero didn't like anyway, so he decided that he didn't need the holy knife, and his root started rotting like an adult diaper. Someone got stabbed. In other news, LiquidManZero got hit with a large plastic beer bottle, in a place that's no good for a kid with a fish in his mouth, and fell over. So long, and watch your step...don't let the midgets with smelly feet ear rape me. I'll give you hardcore porn, and an old pile of TruWizdom's teeth; if you don't, I'll eat my words. Robert was some random noise I made with my armpit last Sunday, during urinating into the deepest corners of...of a forest...forest of stuttering trees in a horrible drinking binge involving Giant Killer, a drunken bastard whose nickname masks very little of his feelings toward being bastardly. Let's pretend that he got shot by everyone at once. It was messy! Then a giant corporation bought out a larger one, using machines designed specifically for the drinking of strange bodily secretions called "something out of RPGod's stomach". So what this did...211 malt liquor...umm, right. So, this makes no sense whatsoever. Man, that guy ate himself whole, without flipping himself inside in. So goodnight; have some fish, you filthy bastard.
It's too bad we're missing several old ones...some nice work nonetheless...
I may be lazy, but I can...zzzZZZzzzZZZzzzZZZ...
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