Four words at a time story: starring spudcon

Spudcon jumped down from

the pizza oven where

he toasted his nuts

which he marinated in

extra-virgin olive oil.

Virgins, while scarce, still

seem attracted to oil.

He gently wiped...

FOUR words. Leerooooooy Jenkins!

(ok, dickhead)

He gently wiped his...

oil-coated, roasted balls

upon the sleeping forehead

of his greatest nemesis,

Flint, who liked it.

"You sons of bitches!"

he mumbled feebly, inviting...

spudcon to try again.

It just so happened

Flint's COCK was erect

so Spud ran away.

Then Spudcon came back.

With an open mouth

and a rubber held

LJ's bag of assholes

open to the skies.

[COLOR="White"](pay attention, that barely made sense)[/COLOR]

Now, spudcon had him

a huuuuuuuge erection which

pointed the way toward

the envy of everyone

on a yearly basis

except leapyear when it

can't handle four words

but it can handle

the most difficult story

about spudcons cock puppet

Spudcon awoke, covered in

nubile naked nymphomaniac women

all on quaaludes. But

they had enough sense

to know that they

might be doomed to

unbearable sexual ecstacy if

they slithered over spud's...

Spud's 63 Plymouth Valiant

with T-dub in back

covered in honey and

in a Gimp mask

to preserve his identity

but it didn't work

for there were no

masks big enough to

cover his unmaskable, enormous

wart, blooming on his

nose. These next actions

may repulse some, but

the kids are sleeping

so we can continue.

Spudcon then realized he

had a sticky lesbian

breathing down his neck,

and gripping his throbbing

member as he unzipped

a bag of fish

[COLOR="Silver"]/side/ thought you might come in to save yourself - good timing /note/[/COLOR]

sticks. "Dammit!" he cried,

as he turned on

the toaster oven. "I

really prefer Gortons". But

the smell was enough

to stimulate his taste

in fish. Budweiser goes

down easy when cooking,

as does Spudcon's Mum.

who does a great

[COLOR="Silver"]lol@SG![/COLOR]

...impression of a marauding

hot Gorton's fish stick.

Spudcons wife on the

weekends was different from

the others spud satisfied

in his SuperSpudman role.

That very night, Spudcon

decided to leave his

underwear in the drawer.

Swinging freely, he walked

proudly to the nearest

bathroom to pee, then

marched to the kitchen

for a spot of tea.

then chop up weiners.

and beaners and Spam

for a tasty treat.

"How odd," he thought,

spam, wieners and spam

roasting. "Punctuation's critical nowadays!"

He mused, tossing his

throat yogurt haphazardly towards

the throat yoghurt bin.

He missed, but it

fell back in it

Later, beer in hand

he peed in the snow

cone his neighbour was

laboriously crafting from real

imported igloos. As he

let fly, he thought,

this is true freedom!

Then watched Braveheart again.

Suddenly, police burst in!

The duct tape police

Captained by the captivating

and strangely overdressed, Captain

wearing flippers and a kilt

what a happy monkey

would wear to a

tape shape making convention.

Captain Duct Tape pulled

out his huge silver

balls, which he had

handily stored in his

huge silver ball container.

Damn duct-taped balls

always getting stuck in

some croc's eager mouth

tick-tock-tick-tock

Gooosh! A gallon of

warm, fresh, hot and

tasty custard inexplicably poured

over some raw shrimp

of which the smell

was like the Captain's

(Note. Stretched over 2 years and 3 continents, we need to find out what smelled like the Captain's what?)

own hissing, stinking vomitorium.

In stark contrast to

the pictures in the

White House porn room,

hung next to the

stuffed George Bush head.

That stuff smelled like

ass. Meanwhile, the Captain

and Taneal were up

to their old tricks