[sub]continued from Max Carnage’s post[/sub]
"dang that Gopher looks hot in his…
skimpy g-string". Canadians who happened to be passing the Gopher also stopped and gawked, exclaiming, "…
Faith an’ Begorrah!"
Faith an’ Begorrah!, That Gopher sure has tight buns! My how they gleam in the tropical
fruit punch that Doc just poured down the backside of his thong." Captain Stubing drooled as Gopher…
Brokers…
pranced gaily in the warm caribbean sunset, sweat glistening on his delightfully flabby pecs. "I gotta get me
a WOMAN!!" said
the bright red fire engine. When a bunch of ducks suddenly alighted from a nearby mud puddle and did a merry dance for joy for it was
a wild shift of perspective… a dizzying, instantaneous quantum leap rending the very fabric of time and space. The crew screamed in horror as they were immolated.
“Woo Hoo!” laughed God, “Did you see what I did?”
“What’s in this Punch?” asked Captain Stubing, shaking his head. Gopher continued to dance unaware of the odd punch-induced hallucinations of his captain. “Fascinating.” Spock said dryly before
wetting the inner folds of his pointy aural on-yonders with a punch-soaked finger. No one noticed the tremors, until
I’m laughing so hard I’m spitting Fresca. This is hilarious. Having said that? You guys SUCK at taking direction.
Carry on !!!
Well, yeah, but you know after about twelve words, the mind reels just getta spinning, and it’s a free for all after that. So it goes, just enjoy the ride…
the young Ensign in the red shirt fell into a crack that appeared directly beneath him! "We should get back
to the Bridge!" … But it was too late. The poor, young red-shirted ensign had
realized that a Klingon boy of his age would have lived through that but he suddenly received a message from
been imolated by a blast of Fresca. "He’s dead, Jim. Damnit, I’m a doctor not
“a sous chef,” as he bent to examine the ensign. He poked the ensign’s chest with a finger, muttering “just about done… The only way to recover this man is to take him to…”