THE OTHER SHINY CAPTION GAME #29-Still flying!
POSTED BY: CunningOrangeToque
UPDATED: Monday, April 10, 2006 02:55
VIEWED: 10545
PAGE 1 of 5
A tense round ends in victory, with the spoils of the win for Round 28 going to...
FLORALBUNNY!
Joss: I do the job. Then it gets canceled.
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Congratulations!
And as we keep plugging along, with the primary buffer panel long since gone, our next Round begins! This week featuring....
The floating dust-cloud of Doom slowly inched towards its next unsuspecting victim....
Your turn!
GO!!!
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Creator of "THE OTHER SHINY CAPTION GAME"!
www.livejournal.com/users/the_zeppo01
Time for some thrilling heroics!
poor_noel2@hotmail.com
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OMG! I can hardly believe it. The one about the pants was so very Joss-y.
For this one, I sing a song to an old, old tune:
Two-Fry, don't bother me,
Two-Fry, don't bother me,
Two-Fry, don't bother me,
For I belong to some-bod-ee.
But there is more percolating through the tank and out into the leach-field of my tiny, twisted mind.
Be Ye Warned, says I!
bun
-- bastards singed my turtle --
----- why's the rum gone? -----
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E! True Verse Story: The Mad Hatter After Wonderland. Sex, Drugs, and Mudder's Milk.
Next, after these important broadwave messages.
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All good things must come to an end.
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It never occured to Patience that Two Fry was just like Samson: once his hat was shot he just laid down and died.
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We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.
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Upon seeing Inara derobe Two Fry litterally blew his top...
Or
Sparrow Farts: Deadly.
Or
NASA's latest cost saving venture, rocket propelled top hats, need a little work.
Or
One Fry
Two Fry
Three Fry Four!
Oh, no more Fry...
Or
(deliverence music) Heheh looky here pa...
More insane ramblings by the people who brought you beeeer milkshakes!
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
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In the 'Verse, bad Abraham Lincon impersonaters... don't impersonate twice.
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I ain't lookin' for help from on high. That's a damn long wait for a train don't come.
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Lacking his grandfather's writing ability, Theodore Giesel III had to take whatever jobs he could find to get by.
So who is he?
He's my husband.
Well who in the damn galaxy ain't!
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Wash: I swear, I spent about six months on this moon where the primary fashion was these hats that misted out chocolate. My hand to God!
So who is he?
He's my husband.
Well who in the damn galaxy ain't!
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Warning! Top Hats are not bulletproof!
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Man: Chip, chip, cherrio!
Joss(os): Cut! I need western, not british!
Keep shiny!
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