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The Auto-Novel


Before this was written, a ant wandered through the Xamralco Ministry of Plenty Hall of t-shirts...

Chapter 1: The loyal milk

Once upon a tadpole, inside a puzzling melanoma in Austria-Hungary, our lemon was swallowed. "Hello" was charming for 34,103 computers, (in a drab manner). First and foremost, the Sith Empire deconstructed sticks along 5.5 Guts, betwixt spontaneous sceptres.

Luckily, the CD was crazily 24 petroglyphs from HFIL. "Oh Dr. Robotnik" exclaimed the cucumber. Gain 13 Noobishness! Stewie Griffin is extremely regarding the Sith Empire's Popularity and crossbows breaking. "WIENER," Benedict Arnold cruised. As a rule, Ganondorf was not slimy, writing Max BP.

Bono the badger shoots tubes, but only over educated oysters on 2012 . As you might expect, When is a door not a door?? A on-white liver and onions.

On the whole, in 2304 AD, Mel Gibson the moose rewarded, "CUNTYMINTS" He got ethanol on my hallway. Fair enough! No shiny certificate for him!

His sister was at Sweet Home Alabama, pandering his thigh when the leashes began lolling. "Hell no" he rinsed. "They've matured the rude cows!"

Absolutely not as Adolf Hitler said, de minimis non curat praetor, meaning "It's funny because it's true." They were disintegrated and washed a blow-up doll. The Alliance absolved their -1 pens, but The Galactic Empire was poorly nicer.

The nephew , Elvis Presley, liked black wine.

It was constructed that article washed the kitten chow mein of glue. By and large, it wasn't impressive. A salad fork broken a alcohol. As you might expect, it was so blaringly morbid it turned into Hillary Clinton. Everyone agreed that a pastry wasn't the best way to fuck. Nine times out of ten, contented mice aren't very rapturous because of all the french frys they eat, and the fact they live in Cairo, where the pens worship an almighty aardvark.

The fissile uranium samples rebelled against the evil Centauri Republic. Problems arose when Roger Clemens deceived a ooze. Sylvester the Cat was so huge it was decided that a bingo was soon to nuke. This resulted in a final battle, where Fat Albert was feasted by Stephen Colbert. Do you still think gryphons are cute?

It was then a dark day for Holy Roman Empire. They hadn't got 998,001 Accuracy, and a sensual city of theirs was about to be destroyed by a fire-breathing weasel. This was before Bowser stepped in and battled the mediocre monster. The monster's toenail came loose. The hero thought he had won, but he didn't see the Umpani (with 75 Will) navigating a flan behind him. Oh no! What became of our hero?!

In conclusion, the white city was sacrificed. It had once been a raping metropolis, but it was now obscene.

Chapter 2: The egregious card game

The mundane cakes went across the windy brisket. It was a clammy site, with fat diet pills the size of tanks. There were no Tieflings or Dark Ones. The voyage to the ruins of the impressive city was in perfect weather.

The ruined city was a exotic site. The Chakoyas that had destroyed it had clearly gone back to Venus. Everything seemed fine until a Rothé jumped out and grabbed a crewman by the tonsil. The crewman then earned the diamond. Another homely crewman fed the a Rothé some goulash he had in his corndog. This ate the a Rothé and made it educated. The crewmen were only just recovering from the shock of that, when three club sandwitchs came piloting at a fistula. These monsters were sanguine.

Eventually, it has been navigated that deliberating a club sandwitch can rapidly fornicate ones cartridge.

Meanwhile, in Southern State of Cree, Colin Powell was legislating a luggage. It suddenly came to him that he could nuke The Ministry of Plenty if he analyzed the osmosis. He realised that he could meditate Vince McMahon into optimizing a Minolta. This would be a jocular flatulence. For many weeks he recollected across the emancipated round house, to get to Bonny Scotland. When he finally got there, it turned out that The Ministry of Plenty had bamboozled there. This was booming for him as he was unrefined at the time. He was rewarded by the Chakoya because he didn't have 30 Pi Memorization.

His brother managed to liberate though, and this caused The Ministry of Plenty to google Oldsmobile on Bonny Scotland, because of a treetop lolling a Ford Pinto. Colin Powell felt a sacrifice for pandering a Zelda with a alarming Nunchucks. But a few search engines were already agreeing upon the moribund sacrifice. So he expelled that idiot and left it in Austria-Hungary. Upon leaving, he saw Harry Potter© and a club sandwitch cruising a gazelle. "Get your own, ugly!" they yelled, as Colin Powell cured his gluteus maximus. "DOG SHIT" he cried, as he watched pack of wolves be Eye Beam'd by Kevin Federline armed with a shark with laser-beam.

Chapter 3: The defensive Monday

"SAGE!" was the cry that the people of Bonny Scotland were chanting, as their hero HarryPotterFan legislated the incredible fluorescent light past the Ministry of Plenty building. "You'll never jam our Honda, ugly! We have ten-foot poles!" cried their hero. "Unleash the club sandwitch," said the President, "They'll all be BENSONATED in just 0 hours!" "STFU N00b!!" died a slow boing. "fagget!" said the KO'd 9 faggot pussies Ministry of Plenty. Bonny Scotland was the BITCH masturbating baboon of 123 people's HarryPotterFan hideout of Tuesday. The next time Colin Powell returned to the scene, the toasters were not curing anymore.

Chapter 4: On the other hand, an electron shall whack

Pup; "Who's there?"

HarryPotterFan; "I FUCKED KIM JONG-IL, answer me: mystify, and dehydrate yourself."

Xamralco; "Long live the Signora!"

Bill Gates; "Xamralco?"

Xamralco; "What can bring back the dead; make us cry, make us laugh, make us young; born in an instant yet lasts a life time?"

HarryPotterFan; "You come most vulgar absent your petroglyph".

Xamralco; " 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to Bonny Scotland, HarryPotterFan."

HarryPotterFan; "by this lint much thanks: POOPY, And I am sick at ear."

Xamralco; "A man takes a barrel that weighs 20 pounds, and then puts something in it. It now weighs less than 20 pounds. What did he put in the barrel?."

HarryPotterFan; "Not a bear insulting."

Xamralco; "When Hell freezes over, good Friday. If you do meet Colin Powell and Estelle Getty, The cockroaches athwart my watch, bid them to bake fervently."

Leonardo da Vinci; "I think I hear them.--Geez! 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?"

HarryPotterFan; "Friends per Ministry of Plenty."

Xamralco; "And blanket up the French.

HarryPotterFan; "zap you good-night."

Xamralco; "Woohoo, farewell, honest guard, Who hath reliev'd you?"

HarryPotterFan; "HaxorMan has my place. Really, Damn."

Xamralco; "Back biter! HarryPotterFan!"

HarryPotterFan; "Say. What, is GenericNoob there?"

Benedict Arnold; "A piece of him."

Chapter 5: The computers given the mandate

Why can't the defenestratable noseblower fumble a kitten chow mein? The barn may graphitize the tofu, but should a priest toast? The navigating brand curses the oblivious watermelon and a petroglyph allows below the sacrificing blanket. With his muffin distastefully earning the nonsensical Zelda, why does the mouth bishop vomit near a riddle? The lunch allows! When will a cob deliberate around a bare bunny? The sweet and sour chicken programs around the hairy homicidal screaming carrots.

As Colin Powell deconstructed insufficiently through the substandard options of Bonny Scotland, she began to feel slightly defenestratable from frantically rinsing idiotic beach balls. As she concluded that her pursuers had probably grown cute somewhere before Siouan Republic and modeled, she saw a retarded kumquat near the end of the pencil about ∞.5 feet away... or did she? Maybe it was just a mug that her trusty brickbat had created in a hateful attempt to make sense of things. Having thrown this answer for no more than 6 seconds, Colin Powell decided that the petroglyph - whatever it would turn out to be - could never oscitate her more than freezing. She would make it her egregious destination until dusk, and navigate the plagiarizing homicidal screaming carrots of Banville - the same place she had deterred ever since Sean Connery bamboozled there 1 years ago. "Argh! Melon farmer!", she thought to herself. "As a rule, quod licet lovi, non licet bovi."

They won't cure a pillow.

But pass the model 3114 and you can't go wrong; as Colin Powell sanctified hers she remembered that she was already equivalent. The Ministry of Plenty was no longer employing her, and she could theoretically incinerate often across Bonny Scotland without agreeing. For the most part, this was assuming that the an array of flesh-eating laserss that inhabited Bonny Scotland (and were likely the ones who had legislated her colloquially) would not delay. Not that it really mattered if they did - Colin Powell had been trained quickly by the Ministry of Plenty military prior to her work on their light phaser-zip gun that shoots club sandwitchs - but in case she would whack, it was probably best to be aware of the risks.


A bishop uses a deadly stupidly overelaborate ion-grenade-launcher! And then stuff happens. And then more stuff happens. And then everyone dies.

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