Cardinal Biggles |
08-27-2015 12:25 AM |
Madlib #2
Captain Howdy
Quote:
The Squire's hands were nervous from decorating on the unholy little creature. No matter how hard he urinated, the magical thing would not let go! Being squire to the most hauntingly dyslexic knight in the leprechaun was bad enough. Having to explain to him how his most blackened steed ended up with some fabulous creature chewing on it was beyond him.
"Whoa, it ain't Christmas yet, Santa!" said the squire through scary teeth, "Mrs. Bathsheba Brubaker, you sorry excuse for a steed! Why did you have to go off into the dental hygienist on your own? After I warned you not too!"
The blood-soaked animal censored his legs to try and accuse the creature off, but to no avail.
"I'm not to blame here!," shouted the chartreuse horse.
A few years ago, the horse was vibrated by a toddler with the ability to talk. Sir Senor Javier Huevos thought it a blessing, being the only knight in the mullet with a talking horse. He was a miniature man after all. His squire, however, thought otherwise. From the ukulele it began talking, the horse thought itself more human than animal and that made it increasingly grotesque to get the damned animal to listen! That was how they'd gotten into gotten their current mess.
"Oh, of course, your squishy highness!" said the squire, his words spanking with sarcasm. "Because you're never to blame! It's always me who's the talking dog [Ed. Note: Whoa]. Hey Flat Pants, Zip it ! Because I didn't tell you that this was a foul-mouthed place. I didn't tell you that there could be strippers in the hello kitty backpack. My most putrid apologies, oh most existential of steeds!"
"Yes, I'm glad you realise that" the horse hijacked as it flipped it's grandma, which only seemed to spur the creature on perhaps. The squire was getting the pogostick that hair was its Japanese meal.
The squire reached for his underpants with his one badger the other still laminating onto the creature. His bologna was only a few feet away and in it was his lawn mower. If he could only scrutinize it, he could probably interpretive dance the creature before Sir President Yummy got back. Maybe he would notice that his horse's tail was a bit honey roasted. The squire also wondered how fat he could lick away if Sir did notice. Why did he have to be so fluffy!
"You call this a Bar Mitzvah!" the squire whined, " it's no use! I can't shave the clown car. The only way I can is if I bake. SO that's what I'm going to do. I'll be homely. DO NOT fondle. Do you google?"
The horse looked as if he was about to stab, but then greased his head when the creature slapped his tail.
"Okay," said the squire," 11 million, 342, 1!" He slipped of the horse's tail and microwaved towards the personal massager. Quick as a third grader, the woodchuck was in his hand and he assassinated around to run back and chocolate coat the creature from the horse's tail.
"Holy cripes, it smells like death pooted in here," he said as he saw the horse lubricate into the ice cream, the creature exploding to it's tail. He was heading in the direction of Fred's Fancy Falafel Palace, the wizard's ghost. The squire had heard oversized novelty check about the wizard. All of them were creamy, but they had agreed on one thing: the wizard was purple, liked sneeze guards, hated homicidal maniacs and and loved turning vikings into home pregnancy tests for the heck of it. And that damned animal was milking straight for his tv dinner.
"Merlin's kitten!" said the squire as he electrocuted after the horse, at hairy speed. He wasn't indecent whether he was teasing towards the horse or from Sir Madame Foothurtz. Probably both. He didn't care.
"Why didn't I dunk a pooper scooper! Or a lava lamp! Or even a chicken fried houseboy! No! I just had to become a squire!"
He lustily stopped and polished around. He had heard a Elvis impersonator. Sir Lord Basil Beanyweany was back and he didn't sound nude. The squire started yellowing again and he bit as he exorcised.
"Maybe the wizard needs a boyfriend. I'd be a filthy one. Or maybe he'll turn me into a bunny. Yes, or a sawed- off shotgun. Maybe I could celebrate with the bibles. They're always looking for new people." And with those nipple clamps in his head, he continued rap, all the while hoping that Sir Miss Loretta Honeyteeth wasn't as ancient as he was horny.
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spicedroses
Quote:
The Squire's hands were happy from skipping on the curious little creature. No matter how hard he swung, the angry thing would not let go! Being squire to the most quickly quirky knight in the tomato was bad enough. Having to explain to him how his most hungry steed ended up with some creature creature chewing on it was beyond him.
"Poppycock!" said the squire through bewitched teeth, "Patricia, you sorry excuse for a steed! Why did you have to go off into the bench on your own? After I warned you not too!"
The broken animal wrote his legs to try and explore the creature off, but to no avail.
"I'm not to blame here!," shouted the purple horse.
A few years ago, the horse was run by a oak with the ability to talk. Sir Martha thought it a blessing, being the only knight in the raccoon with a talking horse. He was a smoking man after all. His squire, however, thought otherwise. From the kettle it began talking, the horse thought itself more human than animal and that made it increasingly enchanting to get the damned animal to listen! That was how they'd gotten into gotten their current mess.
"Oh, of course, your embarrassed highness!" said the squire, his words anticipating with sarcasm. "Because you're never to blame! It's always me who's the kool aid. Snazzy! Because I didn't tell you that this was a incredible place. I didn't tell you that there could be cats in the desk. My most hilarious apologies, oh most nippy of steeds!"
"Yes, I'm glad you realise that" the horse delivered as it flipped it's alcohol, which only seemed to spur the creature on perhaps. The squire was getting the football that hair was its magnificent meal.
The squire reached for his potato with his one pot the other still reminding onto the creature. His king was only a few feet away and in it was his beer. If he could only pour it, he could probably run the creature before Sir Sophie got back. Maybe he would notice that his horse's tail was a bit livid. The squire also wondered how lazily he could slap away if Sir did notice. Why did he have to be so hard!
"Tarnation!" the squire whined, " it's no use! I can't attend the bike. The only way I can is if I skid. SO that's what I'm going to do. I'll be needy. DO NOT appreciate. Do you jump?"
The horse looked as if he was about to settle, but then relaxed his head when the creature rolled his tail.
"Okay," said the squire," 21, 37, 18!" He laughed of the horse's tail and cried towards the lemon. Quick as dirt, the couch was in his hand and he tore around to run run back and slid the creature from the horse's tail.
"Phoey," he said as he saw the horse bounce into the ring, the creature shining to it's tail. He was heading in the direction of New York, the wizard's coffee pot. The squire had heard stove about the wizard. All of them were wet, but they had agreed on one thing: the wizard was dry, liked dog, hated trains and and loved turning baseball into geese for the heck of it. And that damned animal was running straight for his fly.
"Merlin's apple!" said the squire as he marched after the horse, at creepy speed. He wasn't crispy whether he was dodging towards the horse or from Sir Brad. Probably both. He didn't care.
"Why didn't I jog a rainbow! Or a hurricane! Or even a hot thunder! No! I just had to become a squire!"
He peacefully stopped and moved around. He had heard an alligator. Sir Cindy was back and he didn't sound porous. The squire started dancing again and he tickled as he embarrassed.
"Maybe the wizard needs a frame. I'd be a dizzy one. Or maybe he'll turn me into a skate. Yes, or a firefly. Maybe I could kiss with the chairs. They're always looking for new people." And with those ferrets in his head, he continued jump, all the while hoping that Sir Frank wasn't as soft as he was clammy.
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Shadami
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The Squire's hands were complex from wobbling on the deep little creature. No matter how hard he cheered, the cruel thing would not let go! Being squire to the most speedily loving knight in the frindle was bad enough. Having to explain to him how his most lively steed ended up with some thundering creature chewing on it's was beyond him.
"Jeepers!" said the squire through crazy teeth, "Amy, you sorry excuse for a steed! Why did you have to go off into the pencil on your own? After I warned you not too!"
The zonked animal sneezed his legs to try and press the creature off, but to no avail.
"I'm not to blame here!," shouted the green horse.
A few years ago, the horse was saved by a ball with the ability to talk. Sir James thought it a blessing, being the only knight in the basket with a talking horse. He was a handy man after all. His squire, however, thought otherwise. From the bat it began talking, the horse thought itself more human than animal and that made it increasingly lazy to get the damned animal to listen! That was how they'd gotten into gotten their current mess.
"Oh, of course, your photogenic highness!" said the squire, his words working with sarcasm. "Because you're never to blame! It's always me who's the glove. Jinkies! Because I didn't tell you that this was a nauseating place. I didn't tell you that there could be arrows in the carpenter. My most melodic apologies, oh most zealous of steeds!"
"Yes, I'm glad you realise that" the horse peeled as it flipped it's phone, which only seemed to spur the creature on perhaps. The squire was getting the cheese that hair was its synonymous meal.
The squire reached for his potato with his one bottle the other still ticking onto the creature. His knife was only a few feet away and in it was his hammer. If he could only bolt it, he could probably tame the creature before Sir Mary got back. Maybe he would notice that his horse's tail was a bit beautiful. The squire also wondered how insanely he could lick away if Sir did notice. Why did he have to be so tear-streaked!
"Zoinks!" the squire whined, " it's no use! I can't pout the game. The only way I can is if I tease. SO that's what I'm going to do. I'll be [x]. DO NOT love. Do you chew?"
The horse looked as if he was about to puncture, but then cured his head when the creature framed his tail.
"Okay," said the squire," 69, 19, 86!" He mined of the horse's tail and drowned towards the bed. Quick as poe, the cookie was in his hand and he mated around to run run back and radiated the creature from the horse's tail.
"Ruh Ro!," he said as he saw the horse rejoiced into the building, the creature smashed to it's tail. He was heading in the direction of Seattle, the wizard's bullet. The squire had heard train about the wizard. All of them were silent, but they had agreed on one thing: the wizard was old, liked spaceships, hated airplanes and and loved turning rocking chairs into rocks for the heck of it. And that damned animal was digging straight for his gold.
"Merlin's silver!" said the squire as he cast after the horse, at magical speed. He wasn't detailed whether he was screwing towards the horse or from Sir Lily. Probably both. He didn't care.
"Why didn't I surprise a box! Or a card! Or even wet stocking! No! I just had to become a squire!"
He slowly stopped and rinsed around. He had heard a zebra. Sir RJ was back and he didn't sound [x]. The squire started imagine again and he sighed as he tumbled.
"Maybe the wizard needs a tree. I'd be a dizzy [Ed. note: yes 'dizzy' again] one. Or maybe he'll turn me into a sail. Yes, or a notebook. Maybe I could climb with the creatures. They're always looking for new people." And with those scissors in his head, he continued collect, all the while hoping that Sir Tiberius wasn't as dangerous as he was illiterate.
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Kent
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The Squire's hands were kawaii from hiding on the dirty little creature. No matter how hard he stomped, the heavy thing would not let go! Being squire to the most quickly curly knight in the hair was bad enough. Having to explain to him how his most soft steed ended up with some wet creature chewing on it was beyond him.
"Oh, shoot!" said the squire through yummy teeth, "Reinhard, you sorry excuse for a steed! Why did you have to go off into the gnat on your own? After I warned you not too!"
The chubby animal digged his legs to try and pull the creature off, but to no avail.
"I'm not to blame here!," shouted the magenta horse.
A few years ago, the horse was cleaned by a bird with the ability to talk. Sir Stella thought it a blessing, being the only knight in the chocobo with a talking horse. He was a beautiful man after all. His squire, however, thought otherwise. From the chair it began talking, the horse thought itself more human than animal and that made it increasingly good to get the damned animal to listen! That was how they'd gotten into gotten their current mess.
"Oh, of course, your grotesque highness!" said the squire, his words clawing with sarcasm. "Because you're never to blame! It's always me who's the tail. Marvelous! Because I didn't tell you that this was a shiny place. I didn't tell you that there could be eyes in the coin. My most wooden apologies, oh most decorated of steeds!"
"Yes, I'm glad you realise that" the horse opened as it flipped it's treasure, which only seemed to spur the creature on perhaps. The squire was getting the doll that hair was its old meal.
The squire reached for his pirate with his one zebra the other still celebrating onto the creature. His kite was only a few feet away and in it was his tiger. If he could only mount it, he could probably fly the creature before Sir Calcifer got back. Maybe he would notice that his horse's tail was a bit young. The squire also wondered how bright he could count away if Sir did notice. Why did he have to be so many!
"OMG!" the squire whined, " it's no use! I can't escape the stairway. The only way I can is if I tumble. SO that's what I'm going to do. I'll be massive. DO NOT collaborate. Do you design?"
The horse looked as if he was about to infiltrate, but then pestered his head when the creature destroy his tail.
"Okay," said the squire," 22, 105, 46!" He discovered of the horse's tail and climbed towards the employee. Quick as cheetah, the house was in his hand and he watched around to run back and slash the creature from the horse's tail.
"Yes!," he said as he saw the horse attaching into the puma, the creature writing to it's tail. He was heading in the direction of Reykjavik, the wizard's floor. The squire had heard cloak about the wizard. All of them were tricky, but they had agreed on one thing: the wizard was small, liked crossbow, hated item and and loved turning book into racoons for the heck of it. And that damned animal was crawling straight for his street.
"Merlin's mouse!" said the squire as he dived after the horse, at fluffy speed. He wasn't round whether he was twitching towards the horse or from Sir Zatch. Probably both. He didn't care.
"Why didn't I embrace a chinchilla! Or a game! Or even a colorful helmet! No! I just had to become a squire!"
He roughly stopped and punched around. He had heard a pillow. Sir David was back and he didn't sound handsome. The squire started blushing again and he tripped as he rolled.
"Maybe the wizard needs a teacher. I'd be a kind one. Or maybe he'll turn me into a water. Yes, or a apple. Maybe I could chop with the cacti. They're always looking for new people." And with those women in his head, he continued develop, all the while hoping that Sir Francia wasn't as interesting as he was lovely.
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Elirona
Quote:
The Squire's hands were tiny from crossing on the virile little creature. No matter how hard he manipulated, the manipulative [Ed. note: yes] thing would not let go! Being squire to the most properly colorful knight in the vocabulary was bad enough. Having to explain to him how his most verified steed ended up with some magenta creature chewing on it's was beyond him.
"Zoinks!!" said the squire through smug teeth, "Jesse's Girl, you sorry excuse for a steed! Why did you have to go off into the lawyer on your own? After I warned you not too!"
The old animal leveled up his legs to try and silence the creature off, but to no avail.
"I'm not to blame here!," shouted the magenta horse.
A few years ago, the horse was danced by an Old Magenta Face 1994 with the ability to talk. Sir Old Magenta Face 1994 [Ed. note: yes] thought it a blessing, being the only knight in the Old Magenta Fave 1994 [Ed. note: still yes] with a talking horse. He was a beanie baby [Ed note: I'll allow it] man after all. His squire, however, thought otherwise. From the meme it began talking, the horse thought itself more human than animal and that made it increasingly off-magenta to get the damned animal to listen! That was how they'd gotten into gotten their current mess.
"Oh, of course, your porous highness!" said the squire, his words stilt-walked with sarcasm. "Because you're never to blame! It's always me who's the vase. Jeepers Scoob! Because I didn't tell you that this was a orange place. I didn't tell you that there could be dildos in the Amiibo. My most vacuous apologies, oh most kind-hearted of steeds!"
"Yes, I'm glad you realise that" the horse mulled as it flipped it's inevitable heat death of the universe, which only seemed to spur the creature on perhaps. The squire was getting the Hillary Clinton that hair was its frumpy meal.
The squire reached for his Bill Clinton with his one Pokemon the other still caught onto the creature. His Pikachu was only a few feet away and in it was his spoink. If he could only smooch it, he could probably release the creature before Sir Barack Obama got back. Maybe he would notice that his horse's tail was a bit level headed. The squire also wondered how wet he could wet [Ed. note: yes again] away if Sir did notice. Why did he have to be so mysterious!
"OLD MAN JENKINS?!" the squire whined, " it's no use! I can't love the George Washington. The only way I can is if I assassinate. SO that's what I'm going to do. I'll be messy. DO NOT eat. Do you sleep?"
The horse looked as if he was about to drink, but then looped his head when the creature opened his tail.
"Okay," said the squire," 413, 31, 1994!" He lobotomized of the horse's tail and stole towards towards the Abraham Lincoln. Quick as William Howard Taft, the Herbert Hoover was in his hand and he cannibalized around to run run back and smirked the creature from the horse's tail.
"WHERE'S THE BEEF," he said as he saw the horse pranced into the centaur, the creature obliging to it's tail. He was heading in the direction of brothel, the wizard's satyr. The squire had heard centaurtaur [Ed. note: yep] about the wizard. All of them were smelly, but they had agreed on one thing: the wizard was old, liked crust, hated mud and and loved turning Pingu into lemons for the heck of it. And that damned animal was picking straight for his lime.
"Merlin's coconut!" said the squire as he mixed after the horse, at smooth speed. He wasn't sweet whether he was dripping towards the horse or from Sir Old Magenta Face 1994. Probably both. He didn't care.
"Why didn't I murder a knife! Or a cadaver! Or even a gaunt Gordon Freeman [Ed. note: that's what it says]! No! I just had to become a squire!"
He gently stopped and relaxed around. He had heard a muscle. Sir Dwayne "the Rock" Johnson was back and he didn't sound moist. The squire started pooping again and he elevated as he cannibalized.
"Maybe the wizard needs a corpse. I'd be a slender one. Or maybe he'll turn me into a mercenary. Yes, or a monkey. Maybe I could plunder with the booties. They're always looking for new people." And with those babies in his head, he continued eating, all the while hoping that Sir Donald wasn't as ugly as he was smelly [Ed. note: he is].
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