Thread: A Co-Operative Novel: 3 Words at a Time

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect called "The Octals"

Meanwhile, over at the ranch my syphilitic sister's brother-in-law was slapping his knee and singing "Bluemoon of Kentucky" while my sister strummed her uekelele and hummed along. Suddenly, there was a tornado appearing on the horizon, "Deliverance," I exclaimed. "Sanctuary!" I yelped as I vaulted the hitching post into the water-trough.

"Consarnit!" I exclaimed, "Anybody got bubble-bath?"

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect of female Opus Dei

Meanwhile, over at the ranch my syphilitic sister's brother-in-law was slapping his knee and singing "Bluemoon of Kentucky" while my sister strummed her uekelele and hummed along. Suddenly, there was a tornado appearing on the horizon, "Deliverance," I exclaimed. "Sanctuary!" I yelped as I vaulted the hitching post into the water-trough.

"Consarnit!" I exclaimed, "Anybody got bubble-bath?"

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect of female Opus Dei, it involves the man placing his

Meanwhile, over at the ranch my syphilitic sister's brother-in-law was slapping his knee and singing "Bluemoon of Kentucky" while my sister strummed her uekelele and hummed along. Suddenly, there was a tornado appearing on the horizon, "Deliverance," I exclaimed. "Sanctuary!" I yelped as I vaulted the hitching post into the water-trough.

"Consarnit!" I exclaimed, "Anybody got bubble-bath?"

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect of female Opus Dei, it involves the man placing his elbow to the

Meanwhile, over at the ranch my syphilitic sister's brother-in-law was slapping his knee and singing "Bluemoon of Kentucky" while my sister strummed her uekelele and hummed along. Suddenly, there was a tornado appearing on the horizon, "Deliverance," I exclaimed. "Sanctuary!" I yelped as I vaulted the hitching post into the water-trough.

"Consarnit!" I exclaimed, "Anybody got bubble-bath?"

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect of female Opus Dei, it involves the man placing his elbow to the left of the

Meanwhile, over at the ranch my syphilitic sister's brother-in-law was slapping his knee and singing "Bluemoon of Kentucky" while my sister strummed her uekelele and hummed along. Suddenly, there was a tornado appearing on the horizon, "Deliverance," I exclaimed. "Sanctuary!" I yelped as I vaulted the hitching post into the water-trough.

"Consarnit!" I exclaimed, "Anybody got bubble-bath?"

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect of female Opus Dei, it involves the man placing his elbow to the left of the womans right knee

Meanwhile, over at the ranch my syphilitic sister's brother-in-law was slapping his knee and singing "Bluemoon of Kentucky" while my sister strummed her uekelele and hummed along. Suddenly, there was a tornado appearing on the horizon, "Deliverance," I exclaimed. "Sanctuary!" I yelped as I vaulted the hitching post into the water-trough.

"Consarnit!" I exclaimed, "Anybody got bubble-bath?"

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect of female Opus Dei, it involves the man placing his elbow to the left of the womans right knee while his right

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Meanwhile, over at the ranch my syphilitic sister's brother-in-law was slapping his knee and singing "Bluemoon of Kentucky" while my sister strummed her uekelele and hummed along. Suddenly, there was a tornado appearing on the horizon, "Deliverance," I exclaimed. "Sanctuary!" I yelped as I vaulted the hitching post into the water-trough.

"Consarnit!" I exclaimed, "Anybody got bubble-bath?"

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect of female Opus Dei, it involves the man placing his elbow to the left of the womans right knee while his right ear is pressed

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Meanwhile, over at the ranch my syphilitic sister's brother-in-law was slapping his knee and singing "Bluemoon of Kentucky" while my sister strummed her uekelele and hummed along. Suddenly, there was a tornado appearing on the horizon, "Deliverance," I exclaimed. "Sanctuary!" I yelped as I vaulted the hitching post into the water-trough.

"Consarnit!" I exclaimed, "Anybody got bubble-bath?"

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect of female Opus Dei, it involves the man placing his elbow to the left of the womans right knee while his right ear is pressed firmly against her

Meanwhile, over at the ranch my syphilitic sister's brother-in-law was slapping his knee and singing "Bluemoon of Kentucky" while my sister strummed her uekelele and hummed along. Suddenly, there was a tornado appearing on the horizon, "Deliverance," I exclaimed. "Sanctuary!" I yelped as I vaulted the hitching post into the water-trough.

"Consarnit!" I exclaimed, "Anybody got bubble-bath?"

"I do" said Burt Reynolds. 'Deliverance' taught me that rafting the Chattooga is not like poling the Beaver, which is actually scarey during PMS..... very scarey indeed! But moving beyond nautical propulsion methods, submariners in the Beaver, the latest US fumble in the international arms race which doesn't suprise anyone as George Lopez was annoying, were enjoying a short but satisfying luncheon when all Britney's pantiless friends hopped into my celebrity hot tub, all naked and covered in dayglow James Brown paint and "Think" playing "cat skinning" "music." HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY, she yelped, "That's not my favourite, antique wedgewood vibrator is it?" Suddenly, the cat lept from its perch on Larry's genetails. The Girls eyed the now panic stricken Larry to see what that strange purple cloud emerging from his, now flaccid bowls from below. Tornado warning sirens screeched and howled, causing the girls to pant madly. Larry stared lasciviously into the mug of shaving soap, wishing it was Mama Bear's newest and fantastic concoction, but alas it was merely a candy bar in a single malt scotch whisky

Meanwhile the tornado was blustering up like a professional drag queen contest at Embers, Portland's worst gay bar. Great floor show and free drink recipes from Della LaBella usually make for a great night out. The wind caused Larry to grip the edge of his chair and suddenly look so pale that the single malt that he'd been enjoying with the alcoholic old lady, suddenly sloshed all down his brand name Celebrity Hot sheep, farmers favourites throughout the Highlands. Larry swore loudly, suddenly realizing that the malt would probably stain his big deck shoes. His redneck friends always belittled poor Larry's unusual taste in women, albino Asians are typically only found in the Himalayas, but Larry had always insisted he'd met twins in Seattle, what a night that was. Della LaBella insisted on the genital massage that Larry claimed only Albino Tibetans were trained to properly perform wearing oven gloves during a tornado. Larry demanded irrumatio, a rare form of foreplay in Portland, practised by an obscure sect of female Opus Dei, it involves the man placing his elbow to the left of the womans right knee while his right ear is pressed firmly against her back. If done