Tara's Story
This Is The Funniest Non Sense Making Story Ever Written!
By My Friend Tara
THIS MAY DRIVE YOU INSANE DUE TO THE FACT IT MAKES NO SENSE
DO NOT TRY TO MAKE ANY SENSE OUT OF THIS STORY
Cautious particulars in dark places search for bright lights in empty apartments, while dark places are often found on crowded alley ways. The alley founded all of England while looking for Enamal F. Goldstein. The alley then sold England to a dottie old lamp post who later died and left England to become a personal manager for Boston cream pies. Old men walking in armed and possibly dangerous alleyways into a market completely filled with mouldy bananas and stinky sweat socks, before gasping, turn green, and fall into a manhole. The old men shut down the market due to traces of mold in the banana Boston cream pies. Nobody knows how he ended up in frount of the parked car, but he sat on it just because it was there. The firm believes that he wanted out but was interrupted in the act of filling paper work into his ball cap, only to be falsly accused of living in a dark apartment building with three different roaches. Although she had loved the bug dearly they had to part. Their differences were the same, though both loved to eat all once fresh but now mouldy banana Boston cream pies. When all of a sudden the bug fell down the manhole and she called for a helicopter to lift him out but the pilot fell asleep and missed his stop and landed in Germany. All the alley ways in Germany grew beautiful exotic Chinese fans, while powder faced women go to pick up aliens from the half moon quarters on lateral lined pick up trucks. Then the leaders of the Germany jack-o-lanters tore down all the alleys in England and built huge mushroom trees. Then she would pick the strawberries from the field of the trees and learn to dance the wild dance of the last Mohiccans. All the strawberries were tainted with funny ha ha ho ho he he la la gas and made her search for endless crashing sounds. Likely there was an ant making all the strwberries crazed and wicked. So to battle all the fast talking tomatoe pickers in and around all of lower westeast Manhatten. Angel haired raspberry throwers duck as gooses follow them around the circle of endless laughter and duck-duck goose. In a small largely crowded alley way, 6ft guys with long, wavy blue hair paced back and fourth only to knock over a 6lbs 2oz fat bald man with greasy bellies and big round afros. The man in the yellow transparent glasses lived in a small mulberry bush in the middle of a paper light bulb with a small plate of glass jingle bells and a tall top hat with polka-dotted fishing rods for a roof and a round glowing umbrella for a chimmney. Garbage bags flew out of the glowing chimmney and they floated softly up to the pond of mustard and hot dog buns where they rapidly turned to watch the latest realese from Paramount Pictures. The hor de'ourves marched in and hung up there make-believe head phones on the pink calculator. Many people came but few were recovered from the over flowing punchbowl of refreshing, green, slimy, but jiggley, melts in your mouth but not in your hands, lime, creamy, popcicles. The jet left streaks of pretty blue pom poms made of potpourri and assorted dry, mushy, gooey, marshmellowy sea monkeys. The blue haired, furry bush lad loved his bug eyed potato head named Klinger, he then proceeded to consume a whole man eating shoe and exclaimed to his motorcycle that he liked the way she pulled at the door of the fast moving, four door liverworst. The slowmoving, rapid eye movement of the oversized, little penguin named pengu the polarbear was annoying like a certain someone they admired. They played ping-pong while watching the screen saver on the telephone and smelling the awful rotten sound of molding oranges. The ladyt told the pole to come pick up his hose because it was leaking marmalade into her new bath sponges. The sweet smelling lovely lover of bright and unusual lights, gleamed toward the cross eyed flag pole as he declared his love for the rotting cheese in his attic, his sly lover of nine lives and strange glowing green ooze and fungi of old party favors loved to eat raw apples while making a delightful noise. And he did this for the champange corks that popped from the rooftop of the under-aged cranberry muffins that were taken from their homes in Kentucky just a little to late for the likes of what the 7 legged spider wanted. Slit skirt and all, the five toddlers walk down the blank, anonymous file cabinents while looking back to find a well dressed person of the earwig persuassion, long legged elephants march to the beat of a cool jerk. Just then the garbage truck pulled to a screeching halt in frount of the large order of fries and asked him, kindly but firmly, to please move his hotel because he needed the space to park his new, but slightly used, U.F.O, which was really just an oversized case of nacho cheese dip.
to be continued...
