Some Figmentlings may remember the 3 Word Story forum game, which began on Monday, April 18th. The idea behind the game was to to have forum participants write a joint story together, though each person could only contribute three words to the narrative at a time. The result of the group effort is a strange, surreal, and highly amusing chronicle about, among many things, purple jelly, cats, and fluffy, pink unicorns. Enjoy!
Most people don’t get why whales know that I sing weird songs about flying avocados. But they get that I do eat some cheese high above the rancid mountain tops with some salmon that burns brightly and a pickle. Then I will pet the clouds in our dreams about hopes and Lenny the peacock. I saw you eating some apples in the TARDIS which made me cry because I love you. It’s dark in the lost woods, the little town, being lost because it has no reason to become found. If only you knew how I actually made that up, you would feel crazy. Because I, your precious pink that shines like the moon, and the dogs, loudly chewed long avocados. This was the doing of a very bad dream, which came at 5:00 PM on a cursed Monday which always feels like to me. I looked for my pet cat. She said to go jump. I said: “No” and grabbed a candy bar. It jumped at kitty and said: “HIIYAA!” And kitty bucked. “Weird” she said. And kitty screeched “Chocolate is icky!” And then the kitty licked her paws because they were covered in chocolate and ice cream. She licked them and then fainted. She didn’t move because she had chocolate in belly. And cats hated me when I leave their tuna in their face. The fat rat likes to eat peanut butter and jelly with mustard but will never eat jam because it is chunky. Purple jelly is and tastes like a fermented cucumber. Which is weird because usually they smell like spaghetti. And meatballs and avocado-blended smoothies. That the flying turkey ham sandwich is as gross as a stinky pile of pink poo that smells like a duck that is actually extremely yummy tasting! Jelly beans that are made of cat vomit because vomit is the yummiest thing to eat when hungry. Except not actually. Some love to sing sweet songs about green llamas and pink frogs. Love me again? I wait in the lobby, expecting hugs and kisses from my children, who are hungover from last night. Blast that irrational, drunken, selfish scumbag who eats fish without any remorse, for they are vile. Unlike the aliens that drink pisco sour with pineapple upside-down cake. Then, the fat potato said he loved me so much. I laughed because I’ve never dated a potato. I’ve dated radishes, which was unpleasant because they like making raunchy jokes about pink cactuses. I like pie. No I don’t. But I like rain and snow but not potatoes. They’re just too mushy and I can’t help but eat mashed potatoes. Glistening ice rinks when the moon hits your eye and like a big pizza pie it’s – stop singing songs – amore. I said stop. The sun is shining up in the night sky, the stars shine like twinkling buttons that were sewn onto the appendix of my son. And because of my bald head I cannot sing worth a penny. I change into the Black Knight with a whale of the Mediterranean by my side. I shall hide from the aliens that will abduct your graphing calculator because I have allergies to math and to centipedes that are incurable. There are monsters and other things who will eat marshmallows on a rampage. The lemons that fall from the sky hit the ground and exploded into kittens, will scratch the floor into fluffy, pink unicorns! Then the wizards f**king flew away into a duck on a boat with a hammer. The hammer hurt Rowen’s pet fish, swallowed them whole. The sky which was bleeding badly sang a song about fluffy unicorns. May first, bearing my dilapidated soul, with declining health. I ate soup.