I was just thinking that the other day!! Someone needs to write one

 

I will when I'm back to work I swear! Right now I'm only on my phone and it's too difficult. So...I can't wait to fill yours in!

 

I think someone should post a mad lib, I miss these!! Maybe I will tomorrow.

 

I just went through and found a handful of our Mad Libs from 2013 because i miss them! Someone needs to write another one.. [MENTION=7785]Neuropyramidal[/MENTION]?

_____________________________________________________________

By Jen7:

PART 1:

Carl stands at the edge of the stupid cliff and begins to feel a bit frightened. It’s been googol plex days since he was separated from the rest of the group, and he’s fainted nonstop for 69 miles so far only to reach this dead end. His tiny feet are aching, and his throat feels like he swallowed a bunch of mildewy poopstains. What he wouldn’t give for a hot drink of tequila.

Just as regret and defeat start to swim in, Carl starts to give himself a pep talk. “No. You don’t need the rest of them. You can twerk on your own.” He looks down at the gross knife in his holster. So far he’s been sexy enough and hasn’t needed to use it. He only slapped across one walker, and it looked too much like Rick’s horse so he couldn’t bring himself to kill it. Besides, he has limited ammo, and the noise will just attract more of those soupy, but ‘you can still eat it with a fork kind of way’ dead cats.

At this point, Carl figures he has about 3 options. He can follow the edge of the cliff East and hope to find beer & shelter before10am. Or he can fart and sleep in the opposite direction. Carl decides to follow the cliff South.

He gets about oodles miles, and starts to hear the sound of boobs going PLOP-DIGGIT-DIGGIT-DIGGIT! His heart jumps into his throat. “Be brave,” he whispers hotly to himself. He pulls his sex out of the holster and expelsquietly. Out from the woods comes a laughing, twerking, exciting walker. Carl takes aim directly at the walker’s leg and “PLOP!!!” The walker gobbles to the ground with a loud honk.

Feeling happy with himself, Carl continues on for another 536,874 miles, and eventually stumbles upon a stream of milk. He kneels down and takes a large gulp. This is where he will stop to eat for the night. Carl feels hopeful again. He can do this on his own, he thinks to himself. He doesn’t need the rest of those Busy Lizzys.

________________________________________________________________
PART 2:

Rick and Michonne fall through the sexy forest without saying a word. It’s been 69 days since they set out looking for Carl after he got angry and fapped out of the prison. Rick can’t help but wonder if he was wrong to make Carl drink castor oil and try to take away his Colt Python. He was just getting rage that maybe these jumbo times were starting to change his son.

“Rick, I think I see cute sticks & stones up ahead. Should we get up there for the night?” Michonne says, spooning the silence and scraping Rick out of his thoughts. Rick nods his head swimmingly. Suddenly Rick changes his mind, “OH CRAP!” he saysslowly, “We still have 3 pints of daylight left. Carl could be nearby. We aren’t panting yet. Let’s keep going.”

Michonne glances at Rick with happiness and continues on in silence. Suddenly they both sprint and look down. They have reached the Krispy Kreme Store on a f*cking cliff. “This way,” Rick says, and starts to follow the edge of the cliff North. They hadn’t even fell 1,985,457 miles, when they almost stepped on a walker that had been freshly spanked.“Carl did this. This was Carl. I know it.” Rick said, gingerly. “WASSUP! CARL!” Rick yells. “CARRRL!”

Michonne turns around 2 degrees watching in every direction, her battle axe at the ready for walkers that may have been drawn to Rick’s blissful yelling. Sure enough, out of the pretty woods come not 1, not 2, but at least 23 walkers, slowly jumping andbending in Rick & Michonne’s direction. “Dangit!” Rick says, furious.

As the walkers whip toward them, Rick & Michonne swim closer & closer to the cliff’s edge.
________________________________________________________________
PART 3:

A chunky WOOOSH! rings out through the air from the back of the pack of walkers that are slowly smoking their way toward Rick & Michonne. They look at one another joyfully. No time to think about where the noise is coming from, it's either fight the herd or fall to their death. As if to set an example, a tiny massage parlor slips out from under Michonne's neck and she watches as it gayly falls over the cliff's edge.

Michonne reaches for her trusty gob that she always has strapped to the inside of her wenis for situations like this. Rick grabs his club and they move in toward the walkers, licking and creeping as best they can, creating distance between their backs and the cliff's edge.

One walker puckers toward Michonne, causing her to lose balance. “Oh no!” she yells as she falls on her eyelid and uses her right foot to hold the walker back as it bangs and snaps its teeth at her. The smell of rotting fried chicken and rancid honeydew start to overcome her as she tries to use her gob but she can't get the right leverage. Rick, noticing her predicament, runs over and surprisingly expels gas accidentally, taking the walker's head off with his pepper.

As they continue to t-bag and hack their way through the seemingly endless pack of crunchy, groaning walkers, there is a brief clearing. Rick sees Carl's familiar smelly pinky toenail. “Hubba Hubba! Carl!” he yells, while taking down another walker. Turns out, Carl had been singing off key at walkers from the back of the pack, and the sound they heard was his frying pan.

The three of them finish off the last of the walkers, meeting in the middle of a sea of rotting, wet corpses and detached eyeballs and taste buds. Michonne wipes the bleach off her funny bone, as Rick grabs Carl and pulls him shyly into his shoulder blade for an embrace. “Carl, I'm so melancholy,” he says, feeling overwhelmed with emotion that they had finally found his son. “Are you ok?” he asks. “Dad I'm salty,” Carl says, “I can take care of myself.” Rick is taken aback for a moment, but he's just happy they found Carl in one piece. “Alright let's get back to Mr. Peanut, Kool-aid Man, and the rest of the gang. We've all been so irritated since you left.”

Rick, Michonne and Carl blow back into the stank forest in silence, blowing quickly in the direction of the Grand Canyon.

 

And some more:
________________________________________________________________________________

By Neuropyramidal:

Once upon a toilet, in post-apocalyptic Georgia, a small but willy nilly band of survivors traveled west, in hopes of screwing floor. The road was treacherous, littered with random debris and coffee cups, and every 666 yards or so, a desk would hide towards their RV, causing Hershel and Andrea to grind each other in the shoulder. The black dude they picked up an hour ago, who said his name was T-Stink Bug, was starting to smell like cars and every zero minutes he lifted his butt cheeks above his inner thigh and would scream at the top of his p*nis “I Just Can’t open in this world any longer!”. Carl was so unnerved by the whole ordeal he ended up soiling hisfacilities.

From outside, they heard "tweet" and Dale stomped on the breaks, causing Merle to tumble onto his what's-it-called, immediately getting his left butt cheek stuck underneath the telephone. Merle flew into a rage, screaming “DAMNIT” and accusing random people of being fuzzy. He pointed at Hershel and your momma and specifically accused them of humping all the food while everyone else was moaning. He would have rambled on, but just then Dale punched him square in the nostril and he began to taste urine.

From outside, 5.7 walkers were suddenly going "toot-toot". T-Manatee exited the RV armed with nothing but a small rollercoaster, and a bowl placed on his head for protection. In no more than eleven fort nights, the walkers surrounded the poor fellow, half of them going "boi-oi-oing" and the other half staring shockingly at the black man’s right knee cap. The others watched all troubled as the horde of walkers swarmed the man, forcing him Northwest.

Dale hit the gas, and the RV went KABOOM! but wouldn’t budge, being now completely stripped by zombies. The survivors gyrated at each other, each one of them thinking "Hot Diggity Dog!". They joined kidneys and prayed, each one reciting the Lord’s meat tenderizer. Merle rolled his toes in mock disgust, but he too said a silent keyboard. Just as all seemed lost, Apollo Creed had an idea…..

To Be Continued...
______________________________________________________________________________________

by Ingenue Belle:

I will never forget the night it happened. It was a sexy night, and I was relaxing upstairs with my piece of fuzz, a good book and my faithful platypus, Hugo. Suddenly there was a loud splat. I sprang to my feet and crept downstairs, trying to be as stinkish as I could. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Suddenly I heard the dongagain, but this time it was much more tight and I knew it was coming from the basement. Summoning my courage, I grabbed a tampon and strode erratically down the stairs. I might have met my end right there, if not for Hugo, who let out a loud "fap fap fap". Startled, I jumped heroically to the side just in time to avoid a long gooey appendage. I turned my flashlight on the intruder and gasped in horror. Lurking there in my basement, bathed in the drool glow of my light, was a huge, quivering, shapeless blob of ooze! The hideous thing was as green as anose and as big as a champagne glass.
"Gadzooks", I cried.

I fled gaily upstairs, but the thing chased me with lightning speed. I was trapped, and knew I had to fight if I wanted to survive. First I tried to chop it with a sharp blonde wig from the kitchen, then I shot it with my grandpas flower that hangs over the fireplace. In desperation, I even tried throwing Diet Mr. Pibb on it, but all to no avail. It just kept coming. I thought I was dead for sure, when suddenly a strange figure crashed through my window and leapt between us! He was tall and puny, with fierce prickly eyes and leather bound shoulders. He was dressed entirely in black, except for his muave chaps.

"Oy Vey", the figure cried, and quick as a blue footed Booby he jumped in and stunned the ooze creature with a powerful kick.
Without pause he scooped the thing into the moon and tied it shut with a long rusty door knob.
"How did you do that?!" I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
"Their only weakness is their right earlobe," he replied. "One good kick and the things are helpless."
"But how do you find it?" I asked, staring at the shapeless mass.
"That is easy," said the stranger. "It is right next to their eye."
I thanked him for saving my life and asked him his name. "I am Sacrebleu, and I have been hunting the ooze creatures all my life. Join me in my quest and we will make the world safe from their stuffy evil!"
Now that I knew the truth, how could I say no? I joined Sacrebleu that night and my life has never been the same. I learned how to spot their weakness in less than 3.14159 seconds, and together we have defeated over negative nine of the ooze creatures. I even got my own muave chaps

 

By Neuropyramidal:

The summer Georgia air felt puffy on Apollo Creed’s underarm as he somersaulted out the back door of the RV. Waving his sun burnt toes haphazardly and screaming “OUCH!!!”, he ran eastward, at one point almost losing his condom. Several walkers ran in surprise, and took chase, getting tangled in each other’s boobies!. Onesmoldering walker tripped over the fart, falling to the ground with a deafening SQEEEEAL!. With the walkers distracted, the other survivors slept into the forest, Carl riding Ostrichy-back on Hershel’s nose.

Up ahead, four birds went bloop!, startled by the frantic group. There was no sign of T-Crate yet, so they followed a trail of cubicles. Merle got momentarily confused, wrinkling his taint in bewilderment and smacked his toga against a lollipop. Andrea’s face flew with sweat. Your momma kept hollering “I feel tacky!!”, but the others hurried forward, talking little notice of her porno mag. It was getting dark and they held onto each other’s heel as they ran, fearing one of them might get touchy. Suddenly a right triangle clearing came into view, where two new people were jumping around a soldering gun. The group stopped so suddenly that Merle went butthole first into a thick pin, and only his mayonnaise was now visible.

86 minutes later, they had all shared asparagus with the two strangers, and passed a pole back and forth, pressing their lips against it with happiness. Even Dale’s face looked ridiculous for once. The new strangers, Michonne and Glenn, introduced themselves, only pausing to let Your Momma slide into some bushes where they heard her going pffffft. T-Plate was nowhere to be typed, perhaps lost for good. The survivors followed Glenn single file, forgetting about Merle who was lying butt down in a tangle of cigarettes, barely conscious enough to squat. Michonne informed them they were on their way to kill an evil man who called himself theCrown who was the head of Taco Bell and fed walkers to his dead cloud. Andrea slept in protest, and several of the survivors drank each other thoroughly, most of them thinking Whoops!!, but they agreed to help, on 1/4conditions. Reluctantly, they continued west….

To be continued....

 

This one is hilarious.

 

lol i'm quoting these now because when i copy & paste, the red words go away!

 

...

 

..

 

mjkjkj