One misty morning, Pete & Greg wandered through the garden, hands entwined lovingly as the sunbeams warmed their backs. “You are my sunshine, sweet Peter,” said Greg, to which Pete replied “Shut the fuck up, Greg.” The two then broke into song and dance, a wide range of interpretive moves that depicted their unsightly, pasty bodies. “Ugh,” Bridget claimed in disgust. “What in the world are you two doing?” “Well, said Greg, “I was just basting Pete in sour cream for the luou.” “Yeah, it’s my first time at one, and I’ve always wanted to watch a spit roast.”
Peat nervously flattened his skirt. “I’ve never been with a Stunfisk before,” he said coyly. Delighted at the prospect of what an aquatic potato could offer, he spun in a circle, flipping his hair. “I haven’t been this excited since I ended up in that sex shop last summer!” “We should really try out some of the things we bought there.” “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, but which one?”
“I formal Greg,” Pete blurted suddenly. “What?!” Greg cried. “How could you do this to me! I thought we were friends!" “We’ve always been more than friends,” Greg said in an eerily soothing manner as he rotated the spit upon which Pete had been tenderly placed. “Personally, I’ve always seen you as food.” Peat’s bust glowed over the flames of the spit. But the heat was becoming too great… Greg noticed a generous bulge in Peat’s pants. “Isn’t it a little early to be hard claiming?” he smirked. Pete smiled wolfishly, unabashed. “Oh baby, I love it when you go aggro,” he said. And Greg smiled to himself, thinking, “If there’s one guy I’d like to dAnce with, it’d be this guy.” They opened a bottle of wine and cheered to their joyous occasion, without realizing that they were not, in fact, invited.
Still decked in his tuxedo, Pete wondered what happened to Greg. This was definitely a formal they would all remember. Having thoroughly squeezed the maximal enjoyment from the Hawaiian formal, Greg looked around the room and locked eyes with a wine-soaked Max. She would be next, he thought gleefully. He had always dreamed of being jackhammered from behind by a beautiful stepwoman like Max. He assumed the position. “Come on, Max! Jackhammer me like you were a prepubescent StepMania prodigy.” All of the sudden Greg awoke in a sweat. “Holy… what a nightmare…” “Oh, you’re awake. Finally,” Max said from behind him. Greg screamed…
Peat nervously flattened his skirt. “I’ve never been with a Stunfisk before,” he said coyly. Delighted at the prospect of what an aquatic potato could offer, he spun in a circle, flipping his hair. “I haven’t been this excited since I ended up in that sex shop last summer!” “We should really try out some of the things we bought there.” “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, but which one?”
“I formal Greg,” Pete blurted suddenly. “What?!” Greg cried. “How could you do this to me! I thought we were friends!" “We’ve always been more than friends,” Greg said in an eerily soothing manner as he rotated the spit upon which Pete had been tenderly placed. “Personally, I’ve always seen you as food.” Peat’s bust glowed over the flames of the spit. But the heat was becoming too great… Greg noticed a generous bulge in Peat’s pants. “Isn’t it a little early to be hard claiming?” he smirked. Pete smiled wolfishly, unabashed. “Oh baby, I love it when you go aggro,” he said. And Greg smiled to himself, thinking, “If there’s one guy I’d like to dAnce with, it’d be this guy.” They opened a bottle of wine and cheered to their joyous occasion, without realizing that they were not, in fact, invited.
Still decked in his tuxedo, Pete wondered what happened to Greg. This was definitely a formal they would all remember. Having thoroughly squeezed the maximal enjoyment from the Hawaiian formal, Greg looked around the room and locked eyes with a wine-soaked Max. She would be next, he thought gleefully. He had always dreamed of being jackhammered from behind by a beautiful stepwoman like Max. He assumed the position. “Come on, Max! Jackhammer me like you were a prepubescent StepMania prodigy.” All of the sudden Greg awoke in a sweat. “Holy… what a nightmare…” “Oh, you’re awake. Finally,” Max said from behind him. Greg screamed…
This "piece of literature" was written by ohsosilly, PrawnSkunk, smartdude, soramimi, and T-Force while on a flight. They were playing some game. I can't seem to find a name for it if there is one, but it sounds pretty close to this game. How dumb.
The colors below show where each switch took place. I couldn't tell you who wrote each part, though. You could ask them. But you shouldn't, because you shouldn't be reading this, because you shouldn't have clicked.
One misty morning, Pete & Greg wandered through the garden, hands entwined lovingly as the sunbeams warmed their backs. “You are my sunshine, sweet Peter,” said Greg, to which Pete replied “Shut the fuck up, Greg.”
The two then broke into song and dance, a wide range of interpretive moves that depicted their
unsightly, pasty bodies. “Ugh,” Bridget claimed in disgust. “What in the world are you two doing?”
“Well, said Greg, “I was just basting Pete in sour cream for the luou.” “Yeah, it’s my first time at one, and I’ve always wanted to watch a spit roast.”
Peat nervously flattened his skirt. “I’ve never been with a Stunfisk before,” he said coyly.
Delighted at the prospect of what an aquatic potato could offer, he spun in a circle, flipping his hair. “I haven’t been this excited since I ended up in that sex shop last summer!”
“We should really try out some of the things we bought there.” “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, but which one?”
“I formal Greg,” Pete blurted suddenly. “What?!” Greg cried. “How could you do this to me! I thought we were friends!”
“We’ve always been more than friends,” Greg said in an eerily soothing manner as he rotated the spit upon which Pete had been tenderly placed. “Personally, I’ve always seen you as food.”
Peat’s bust glowed over the flames of the spit. But the heat was becoming too great… Greg noticed a generous bulge in Peat’s pants. “Isn’t it a little early to be hard claiming?” he smirked.
Pete smiled wolfishly, unabashed. “Oh baby, I love it when you go aggro,” he said. And Greg smiled to himself, thinking, “If there’s one guy I’d like to dAnce with, it’d be this guy.”
They opened a bottle of wine and cheered to their joyous occasion, without realizing that they were not, in fact, invited.
Still decked in his tuxedo, Pete wondered what happened to Greg. This was definitely a formal they would all remember.
Having thoroughly squeezed the maximal enjoyment from the Hawaiian formal, Greg looked around the room and locked eyes with a wine-soaked Max. She would be next, he thought gleefully.
He had always dreamed of being jackhammered from behind by a beautiful stepwoman like Max. He assumed the position. “Come on, Max! Jackhammer me like you were a prepubescent StepMania prodigy.”
All of the sudden Greg awoke in a sweat. “Holy… what a nightmare…” “Oh, you’re awake. Finally,” Max said from behind him. Greg screamed…
The colors below show where each switch took place. I couldn't tell you who wrote each part, though. You could ask them. But you shouldn't, because you shouldn't be reading this, because you shouldn't have clicked.
One misty morning, Pete & Greg wandered through the garden, hands entwined lovingly as the sunbeams warmed their backs. “You are my sunshine, sweet Peter,” said Greg, to which Pete replied “Shut the fuck up, Greg.”
The two then broke into song and dance, a wide range of interpretive moves that depicted their
unsightly, pasty bodies. “Ugh,” Bridget claimed in disgust. “What in the world are you two doing?”
“Well, said Greg, “I was just basting Pete in sour cream for the luou.” “Yeah, it’s my first time at one, and I’ve always wanted to watch a spit roast.”
Peat nervously flattened his skirt. “I’ve never been with a Stunfisk before,” he said coyly.
Delighted at the prospect of what an aquatic potato could offer, he spun in a circle, flipping his hair. “I haven’t been this excited since I ended up in that sex shop last summer!”
“We should really try out some of the things we bought there.” “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, but which one?”
“I formal Greg,” Pete blurted suddenly. “What?!” Greg cried. “How could you do this to me! I thought we were friends!”
“We’ve always been more than friends,” Greg said in an eerily soothing manner as he rotated the spit upon which Pete had been tenderly placed. “Personally, I’ve always seen you as food.”
Peat’s bust glowed over the flames of the spit. But the heat was becoming too great… Greg noticed a generous bulge in Peat’s pants. “Isn’t it a little early to be hard claiming?” he smirked.
Pete smiled wolfishly, unabashed. “Oh baby, I love it when you go aggro,” he said. And Greg smiled to himself, thinking, “If there’s one guy I’d like to dAnce with, it’d be this guy.”
They opened a bottle of wine and cheered to their joyous occasion, without realizing that they were not, in fact, invited.
Still decked in his tuxedo, Pete wondered what happened to Greg. This was definitely a formal they would all remember.
Having thoroughly squeezed the maximal enjoyment from the Hawaiian formal, Greg looked around the room and locked eyes with a wine-soaked Max. She would be next, he thought gleefully.
He had always dreamed of being jackhammered from behind by a beautiful stepwoman like Max. He assumed the position. “Come on, Max! Jackhammer me like you were a prepubescent StepMania prodigy.”
All of the sudden Greg awoke in a sweat. “Holy… what a nightmare…” “Oh, you’re awake. Finally,” Max said from behind him. Greg screamed…
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