Uncyclopedia:Departure of Fun/Auto-Novel
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edit The Auto-Novel
Before this was written, a tortoise wandered through the Simsilikesims Galactic Empire Hall of cobs...
edit Chapter 1: The sinister Tanner Thompson
Once upon a impetus, into a unrefined bomb in Chicxulub, our entropy was pandered. "Break a leg" was sexy along 13 miscellanious dead things, verbosely. Basically, the Borg Collective piloted cockroaches excluding n Wisdom, towards congruent high-powered laser rifles.
Luckily, the hotel was virtually 5,592,985 tomatoes from Unnecessary Surgery Land. "Oh Vince McMahon" exclaimed the stripper. Gain 0.5 Ultrashot Skill! Jon Stewart is rabidly regarding the Time Lord High Council's Resistance to AAAAAAAAA! and b-b guns maturing. "RAT'S COCK," Stephen Sondheim pwned. In particular, Mr. T was not pimpalicious, programing Strength.
Ronald Reagan the jackal gives tubes, but only excluding implosive teeth on 31337 . After a long wait, If three cats catch three mice in three minutes, how many cats would be needed to catch 100 mice in 100 minutes?? A burgundy pizza.
For instance, in 832 BC, Simon Cowell the rooster deliberated, "GYPSY" He got urine on my bestiality. By all means! No Poo Lit Prize for him!
His nephew was at Lisbon, bamboozling his penis when the lightsabers began modelling. "Sure" he insulted. "They've deliberated the unreliable options!"
Absolutely not as Niels Bohr said, contraria contrariis curantur, meaning "It was funny" They were thrown off a cliff and accentuated a houseplant. The Systems Commonwealth sanctified their x rocks, but The Jaffa High Council was (in an unimpressed manner) nicer.
The brother , Optimus Prime, liked turquoise orange juice.
It was suffocated that garbage bin advocated the queen of ballroom. Everything considered, it wasn't sizable. A l33t h4x0r deliberated a cutlass. Before long, it was so not very joyful it turned into Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Everyone agreed that a hideout wasn't the best way to reduce. First and foremost, quivering violoncelli aren't very shimmery because of all the bacon-rashers they eat, and the fact they live in Sydney, where the encyclopediae worship an almighty baboon.
The homologies rebelled against the evil Vulcan High Command. Problems arose when Roger Clemens proved a diet pill. Your Mom was so educated it was decided that a neurotoxin was soon to abandon. This resulted in a final battle, where Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo was rewarded by Immanuel Kant. Do you still think snails are cute?
It was then a dark day for United Citizen Federation. They hadn't got 60 Obesity, and a educated city of theirs was about to be destroyed by a Mûmakil. This was before Joseph Stalin stepped in and battled the pyrrhic monster. The monster's iris came loose. The hero thought he had won, but he didn't see the Carrion Crawler (with infinityplex Farming) maturing a diesel engine behind him. Oh no! What became of our hero?!
In other words, the hairy city was destroyed. It had once been a earning metropolis, but it was now grisly.
edit Chapter 2: The ugly tomato
The unbalanced pens went across the windy US Navy aircraft carrier. It was a quick site, with nude cows the size of violoncelli. There were no Kallikans or Rifts. The voyage to the ruins of the spontaneous city was in perfect weather.
The ruined city was a senseless site. The Backians that had destroyed it had clearly gone back to Sicily. Everything seemed fine until a Yu-Gi-Oh fan jumped out and grabbed a crewman by the heart. The crewman then blessed the bevel. Another ineffective crewman fed the a Yu-Gi-Oh fan some chocolate cake he had in his raid. This suffocated the a Yu-Gi-Oh fan and made it moist. The crewmen were only just recovering from the shock of that, when three Reptile Mans came swallowing beyond a toboggan. These monsters were charming.
Likewise, it has been washed that drying a Reptile Man can occasionally program ones guillotine.
Meanwhile, in Tokyo, Mr. T was lathering a lentil soup. It suddenly came to him that he could vitiate The Galactic Empire if he destroyed the queer. He realised that he could recollect Avril Lavigne into giving a Utility Muffin Research Kitchen. This would be a ugly baby. For many weeks he baked across the defenestratable buddy, to get to Cuesta Verde. When he finally got there, it turned out that The Galactic Empire had deliberated there. This was spine-chilling for him as he was rhyming at the time. He was cogitated by the Siraluun because he didn't have -0 Resistance to resistance.
His brother managed to excruciate though, and this caused The Galactic Empire to wamble bimbo on Cuesta Verde, because of a etching vomiting a hot dog. Mr. T pwned a scroll for pandering a brisket with a massive pie gun. But a few cakes were already plagiarizing versus the offensive scroll. So he proved that ectoplasm and left it in Sicily. Upon leaving, he saw Jon Stewart and a Reptile Man navigating a baboon. "Get your own, Schweinehund!" they yelled, as Mr. T suffocated his metatarsal. "CHING CHONG CHINK" he cried, as he watched Elf be drawn and quartered by Elton John armed with a Nunchucks.
edit Chapter 3: The scanty Tuesday
"1447 skillz! yeah!!" was the cry that the people of Cuesta Verde were chanting, as their hero JesusDood recollected the colossal aviator past the Galactic Empire building. "You'll never reduce our roundhouse kick, douchebag! We have bow and arrow!" cried their hero. "Unleash the Reptile Man," said the President, "They'll all be infected with a computer virus in just 4 hours!" "i pwnz u!" died a slow boing. "FGSFDS!" said the annihilated 6 faggot pussies Galactic Empire. Cuesta Verde was the BORDER HOPPER cunt of Thursday people's JesusDood hideout of Wednesday. The next time Mr. T returned to the scene, the magmas were not suffocating anymore.
edit Chapter 4: In the usual course of events, a hybrid engine might hack, slash, & burn
Romartus; "Who's there?"
JesusDood; "SOD, answer me: sniff, and extrude yourself."
Simsilikesims; "Long live the Lieutenant!"
Simsilikesims; "I run over fields and woods all day. Under the bed at night I sit not alone. My tongue hangs out, up and to the rear, awaiting to be filled in the morning. What am I?"
JesusDood; "You come most bloody upon your couch potato".
Simsilikesims; " 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to Cuesta Verde, JesusDood."
JesusDood; "times this lobster much thanks: DICK, And I am sick at utopia."
Simsilikesims; "What is it that, after you take away the whole, some still remains?."
JesusDood; "Not a unicorn programing."
Pervez Musharraf; "I think I hear them.--For Pete's sake! A very pretty thing am I, fluttering in the pale-blue sky. Delicate, fragile on the wing, indeed I am a pretty thing. What am I?"
JesusDood; "Friends per Galactic Empire."
Simsilikesims; "And Aspergers across the Austrian.
JesusDood; "exterminate you good-night."
Simsilikesims; "Oh boy, farewell, honest trucker, Who hath reliev'd you?"
JesusDood; "JesusDood has my place. In conclusion, It's no trouble."
Simsilikesims; "Mmm! JesusDood!"
JesusDood; "Say. What, is Dawn773 there?"
Fidel Castro; "A piece of him."
edit Chapter 5: The crania but the balloon
Why can't the beloved Taahgaarxian taste a brisket? The eel may extrude the pizzle, but should a bishop receive? The breaking ax murderer removes the grisly cat and a ape alerts below the agreeing pantleg. With his brickbat bitterly destroying the oblivious airplane, why does the milk garbageman crystallize near a freedom fighter? The Daewoo eats! When will a Turing machine baptize around a slimy insanity? The dollhouse affords from the abnormal nuclear reactors.
As Mr. T felt seldom through the slippery options of Cuesta Verde, she began to feel slightly cheery from easily swallowing crazed hot dogs. As she concluded that her pursuers had probably grown fanatical somewhere before Eastern State of Cree and ate, she saw a erect armpit hair near the end of the lighting about 25 feet away... or did she? Maybe it was just a diode that her erudite queen had created in a lovely attempt to make sense of things. Having washed this ostrich egg for no more than 8 seconds, Mr. T decided that the cake - whatever it would turn out to be - could never orate her more than feasting. She would make it her rigid destination until dusk, and regurgitate the sniffing cows of Cebu - the same place she had programmed ever since A Grue programmed there 6 years ago. "Blam! Damn!", she thought to herself. "Especially, fiat justitia ruat caelum."
They won't revolve a lubricant.
But prove the model 7844 and you can't go wrong; as Mr. T analyzed hers she remembered that she was already shitty. The Galactic Empire was no longer deceiving her, and she could theoretically cuddle mysteriously across Cuesta Verde without insulting. Not in the slightest, this was assuming that the a Cactuars that inhabited Cuesta Verde (and were likely the ones who had sniffed her mercilessly) would not hack & slash. Not that it really mattered if they did - Mr. T had been trained (in an unruly manner) by the Galactic Empire military prior to her work on their electric ballistic secret ninja-flamethrower - but in case she would hurt, it was probably best to be aware of the risks.
A teacher uses a useless armour-piercing double-ultra super megaphaser-pistol! And then stuff happens. And then more stuff happens. And then everyone dies.