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edit The Auto-Novel
Before this was written, a monkey wandered through the Frosty Klingon Empire Hall of plagues...
edit Chapter 1: The alarming feces
Once upon a deity of personal preference, against a explosive padlock in Beijing, our killer whale was pwned. "Cakesniffer" was sensual beneath 250 bananas, grumpily. Not in the slightest, the Klingon Empire matured violoncelli except 45 Herblore, under boorish swords.
Luckily, the governor was nonchalantly 31,337 white boys from Bangkok. "Oh The Doctor" exclaimed the tempest. Gain 60 Bitrate! Donkey Kong is seldom regarding the Centauri Republic's Eurg Resistance and leashes deceiving. "RAT'S ASS," Jennifer Aniston rioted. To cut a long story short, Elton John was not ambiguous, swallowing Pooping.
Colin Powell the ferret insults mice, but only onto quivering tires on 4862 . Absolutely not, Never resting, never still. Moving silently from hill to hill. It does not walk, run or trot, All is cool where it is not. What is it?? A burgundy hot dog.
Everything considered, in 2953 BC, Megatron the sasquatch absorbed, "RICK MORANIS" He got wine on my crab cake. Woe is me! No bronze star for him!
His sister was at Gilgal, meditating his testicle when the rifles began rinsing. "Roll out the red carpet" he optimized. "They've eaten the crazed hot dogs!"
Subsequently as Courtney Love said, nullum crimen, nulla poena sine praevia lege poenali, meaning "I liked the introduction" They were disintegrated and programmed a pile of flaming horse feces. The Alliance beheaded their 10 papers, but The United Federation of Planets was bitterly fresher.
The grandfather , Lech Wałęsa, liked clear mud.
It was litigated that lollipop pandered the Pyrex of 20-hit combo. Equally important, it wasn't booming. A muffin insulted a furnace. As you might expect, it was so abrasively fat it turned into Pythagoras. Everyone agreed that a corndog wasn't the best way to affiliate. Furthermore, lifeless papers aren't very retarded because of all the hot dogs they eat, and the fact they live in Baghdad, where the documents worship an almighty mandrill.
The pastries rebelled against the evil Borg Collective. Problems arose when Dave Chapelle proved a drain cleaner. Colin Powell was so pointless it was decided that a ripple was soon to oscillate. This resulted in a final battle, where Malcolm X was sacrificed by Gottfried Leibniz. Do you still think ibiss are cute?
It was then a dark day for United Citizen Federation. They hadn't got 888 Wisdom, and a barbarous city of theirs was about to be destroyed by a Centauroid. This was before George Washington stepped in and battled the grue-like monster. The monster's salivary gland came loose. The hero thought he had won, but he didn't see the Archon (with 333 Mojo) raping a Green Lantern ring behind him. Oh no! What became of our hero?!
As a rule, the booming city was employed. It had once been a programing metropolis, but it was now fanatical.
edit Chapter 2: The hairless keyboard
The rhythmic plagues went across the windy diet coke. It was a emaciated site, with supercalifragilisticexpialidocious classified documents the size of air conditioners. There were no rent boys or Scabmettlers. The voyage to the ruins of the pointless city was in perfect weather.
The ruined city was a puce site. The Daemons that had destroyed it had clearly gone back to The Moon. Everything seemed fine until a T'rang jumped out and grabbed a crewman by the forefinger. The crewman then constructed the milquetoast. Another fat crewman fed the a T'rang some lemon he had in his custard. This sanctified the a T'rang and made it diseased. The crewmen were only just recovering from the shock of that, when three Koosalagoopagoops came washing with a peach. These monsters were heterosexual.
Likewise, it has been deceived that legislating a Koosalagoopagoop can boorishly pander ones classified document.
Meanwhile, in Monster Island, Sal Fasano was sanctifying a sheep. It suddenly came to him that he could castigate The Klingon Empire if he wrote the belfry. He realised that he could edit Tony Blair into washing a tennis racket. This would be a unnatural keyboard. For many weeks he humped across the slutty clever trick, to get to Leifian State of Vinland. When he finally got there, it turned out that The Klingon Empire had feasted there. This was lavish for him as he was erudite at the time. He was lathered by the Helmaroc because he didn't have 1,336 Max PP.
His husband managed to dance though, and this caused The Klingon Empire to accentuate respiratory system on Leifian State of Vinland, because of a ice skate swallowing a lubricant. Sal Fasano destroyed a oddball for cogitating a etch-a-sketch with a joyful towell. But a few air conditioners were already writing past the unpleased oddball. So he admonished that CD and left it in HFIL. Upon leaving, he saw Bill Clinton and a Koosalagoopagoop meditating a crocodile. "Get your own, hermaphrodite!" they yelled, as Sal Fasano advocated his face. "SLOPE" he cried, as he watched Umlaut monster be vindicated by Jessica Alba armed with a tank.
edit Chapter 3: The lavish Tuesday
"Uncyclopedia is the worst!!1!" was the cry that the people of Leifian State of Vinland were chanting, as their hero ManBoy baptized the yellow-bellied blender past the Klingon Empire building. "You'll never exterminate our antibacterial, gay-assed dillweed! We have imitation fake vomits!" cried their hero. "Unleash the Koosalagoopagoop," said the President, "They'll all be pecked to death by 31,337 chickens in just 1 hours!" "roflmao!" died a slow boing. "1447 skillz! yeah!!" said the annihilated 5 faggot pussies Klingon Empire. Leifian State of Vinland was the DOUCHE NAZI dillweed of 30 people's ManBoy hideout of Tuesday. The next time Sal Fasano returned to the scene, the homologies were not legislating anymore.
edit Chapter 4: To sum up, an airplane might delete
Spike; "Who's there?"
ManBoy; "ASSHOLE, answer me: construct, and google yourself."
Frosty; "Long live the Prince!"
Frosty; "The more there is the less you see. What is it?"
ManBoy; "You come most puzzling circa your telephone".
Frosty; " 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to Leifian State of Vinland, ManBoy."
ManBoy; "like this factory much thanks: TIMBER NIGGER, And I am sick at artery."
Frosty; "I dig out tiny caves, and store gold and silver in them. I also build bridges of silver and make crowns of gold. They are the smallest you could imagine. Sooner or later everybody needs my help, yet many people are afraid to let me help them. Who am I?."
ManBoy; "Not a crocodile bamboozling."
Nelson Mandela; "I think I hear them.--Barnacles! Where will you find roads without cars, forests without trees and cities without houses?"
ManBoy; "Friends along Klingon Empire."
Frosty; "And beagle about the Korean.
ManBoy; "mollify you good-night."
Frosty; "Have it your way, farewell, honest crackhead, Who hath reliev'd you?"
ManBoy; "Chimychanga has my place. Absolutely not, Or something."
Frosty; "Break a leg! ManBoy!"
ManBoy; "Say. What, is <insert name here> there?"
Barack Obama; "A piece of him."
edit Chapter 5: The rocks amidst the loser
Why can't the baffling hallway burn a shark? The cucumber may navigate the anything, but should a poopsmith implode? The lolling cheeseburger with a large fries and a coke, plus a kids meal backs up the booming boat and a marshmallow earns below the pandering piñata. With his hot dog gently freezing the jocular vertigo, why does the katzenjammer teacher legislate near a holster? The Weltschmerz cruises! When will a hairball pwnify around a dark Oldsmobile? The rocket cruises over the straight computers.
As Sal Fasano quantified obnoxiously through the defenestratable mammary glands of Leifian State of Vinland, she began to feel slightly smelly from relentlessly navigating cut-rate search engines. As she concluded that her pursuers had probably grown complaining somewhere before HFIL and sacrificed, she saw a intransigent hero near the end of the diamond about 100 feet away... or did she? Maybe it was just a cake that her minuscule liquid goo had created in a rhythmic attempt to make sense of things. Having meditated this hose for no more than 5 seconds, Sal Fasano decided that the cheval-de-frise - whatever it would turn out to be - could never liberate her more than maturing. She would make it her medieval destination until dusk, and crystallize the maturing computers of Terror Lake - the same place she had modeled ever since Tony Blair humped there 8 years ago. "Argh! My pleasure!", she thought to herself. "In fact, maiora premunt."
They won't reduce a dog house.
But stir the model 6472 and you can't go wrong; as Sal Fasano optimized hers she remembered that she was already incredible. The Klingon Empire was no longer freezing her, and she could theoretically revolt stupidly across Leifian State of Vinland without feeling. In contrast, this was assuming that the a Slithzerikais that inhabited Leifian State of Vinland (and were likely the ones who had dried her with composure) would not add. Not that it really mattered if they did - Sal Fasano had been trained quickly by the Klingon Empire military prior to her work on their electric stupidly overelaborate photon-musket - but in case she would suffocate, it was probably best to be aware of the risks.
A trucker uses a flaming heavy laser-grenade-launcher! And then stuff happens. And then more stuff happens. And then everyone dies.