Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

Well, you know I had to do one before going to work…...

Wrath opened the door to the sound of heavy metal.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Ozzy Osborne again.  ‘What is this hell?’ Wrath demanded.
‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Ozzy Osborne’s new album, Fluffy Penis.’
Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with sensual Hersheys men.
  ‘Shit, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking amazing!’
  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X hunting a civilian vampire.  With a pussy cat.’
‘Time be. Hungrily.’ said Wrath.
‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get swallow some conniving boobies.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of ragtime.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Scott Joplin again.  ‘What is this Great Uncle Frederick’s trousers?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Spiffing, my brother, it’s just Scott Joplin’s new album, Jolly Oxford Bags.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with bally Rose’s Lime Cordial pearls.

  ‘Well, slap me silly and call me Shirley, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking frightful!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X lollygagging a civilian vampire.  With a newt.’

‘Time to bobble. Gorgeously.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to fumble some rummy fillies.’

(I may have been watching Jeeves & Wooster recently)

Wrath opened the door to the sound of easy listening.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to John Mayer again.  ‘What is this horse shit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Rad, my brother, it’s just John Mayer’s new album, Rightous Dildo.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with sloppy Nike testicles.

  ‘Fuckwad, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking hot and sticky!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X poking a civilian vampire.  With a dog poo.’

‘Time to polka. Sexily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get sniff some dangerous beach balls.’

Thank you thank you thank you, Doc Turtle. MadLibs + coffee = Wednesday Win!

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Wrath opened the door to the sound of old skool.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince again.  ‘What is this fuck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Righteous, my brother, it’s just DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince’s new album, Torrid Muppet.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with massive Peeps boats.

  ‘Damn, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking limp!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X walking a civilian vampire.  With a hand.’

‘Time be. Searchingly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to leave some gray seals.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of bluegrass.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Papa poach again.  ‘What is this fuck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Papa poach’s new album, Glistening Ass.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with hard Johnson and Johnson cunts.

  ‘Shite, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking turgid!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X stroking a civilian vampire.  With a dick.’

‘Time flies. Softly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get eat some black kittens.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of disco.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Abba again.  ‘What is this fuck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Chill, my brother, it’s just Abba’s new album, Bodacious Garden hose.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with sublime Vegemite hearts.

  ‘Bloody hell, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking terrifying!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X cleaning a civilian vampire.  With a middle finger.’

‘Time to irritate. Frustratingly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to smack some good nasal hair.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of power pop.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Ella Fitzgerald again.  ‘What is this bitch?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Nifty, my brother, it’s just Ella Fitzgerald’s new album, Throbbing Pizza.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with heaving Nike cakes.

  ‘Whore, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking quivering!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X pawing a civilian vampire.  With a dildo.’

‘Time to eat. Hungrily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get thrust some pulsating forest.’

I couldn’t resist…

Wrath opened the door to the sound of country.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Willy Nelson again.  ‘What is this shit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Rad, my brother, it’s just Willy Nelson’s new album, Bewildered Bat.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with flipped-out Absolut mortals.

  ‘Fuck, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking obnoxious!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X caressing a civilian vampire.  With a laptop.’

‘Time to run. Accidentally.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to give some wicked shoes.’

Like many others, I just couldn’t resist:

Wrath opened the door to the sound of New Wave.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Adam Ant again.  ‘What is this shit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Adam Ant’s new album, Slutty Dick.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with gross Pampers buttwipes.

  ‘Fuck, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking groddy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X running a civilian vampire.  With a porkpie.’

‘Time coming. Lovingly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get going some gooey hounds.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of swinging 70s.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Barry Manilow again.  ‘What is this butt munch?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Rad!, my brother, it’s just Barry Manilow’s new album, Shiny Prison.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with purple JiffyPop apples.

  ‘Bitch, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking speckled!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X rocking a civilian vampire.  With a riot.’

‘Time to blow. Sporadically.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to see some glittery kayaks.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of rock.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Dan Fogelberg again.  ‘What is this crap?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Dan Fogelberg’s new album, Tousled Caribou.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with bedraggled Jameson’s geese.

  ‘Shit, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking flashy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X punishing a civilian vampire.  With a tuxedo.’

‘Time to clean. Excitedly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to marry some exhausted chimneys.’

Oh god, that was fun!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of polka.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Weird Al Yankovic again.  ‘What is this Drat?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Grody, my brother, it’s just Weird Al Yankovic’s new album, Ballsy Member.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with massive Depends bunnies.

  ‘Fudge, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking turgid!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X mincing a civilian vampire.  With a shit kicker.’

‘Time to bite. Angrily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to suck some throbbing budgies.’

Throwin’  mine into the mix:

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Emo.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to The Jonas Brothers again.  ‘What is this ChristCrackers?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Gag me with a spoon, my brother, it’s just The Jonas Brothers’s new album, Snazzy Pants.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with homely Polydent eyebrows.

  ‘For shit’s sake, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking delicate!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X dry humping a civilian vampire.  With a potato.’

‘Time to meditate. Crookedly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to lick some slick porcupines.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of rock.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Mj again.  ‘What is this fuckhat?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Hotness, my brother, it’s just Mj’s new album, Stupid Nose.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with hot dorito beers.

  ‘Dildoface, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking pretty!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X overcoming a civilian vampire.  With a tree.’

‘Time run. Wetly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get driving some wet tacos.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of 60’s Folk.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Barbara Striesand again.  ‘What is this merde?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Gag me, my brother, it’s just Barbara Striesand’s new album, Pulsing Canape.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with cerulean Weetabix cranes.

  ‘Suck it, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking hot!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X sparkling a civilian vampire.  With a loafer.’

‘Time to sing. Snobbily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to sling some voluptsuous plumes.’

Ahhh, Madlibs, will you ever cease to be hilarious?

Wrath opened the door to the sound of bluegrass.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Brandy again.  ‘What is this shit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Hella, my brother, it’s just Brandy’s new album, Hot Table.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with fast Kleenex houses.

  ‘Cocksucker, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking airy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X crying a civilian vampire.  With a brick.’

‘Time to sleep. Quickly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to fell some tiny mice.’

OMG, is this *funny*! And I can do it, although English isn’t my first language (only the profanities were a bit of an obstacle - obviously I don’t know enough funny English profanities, but I’m here to learn).
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Wrath opened the door to the sound of classics.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Stravinsky again.  ‘What is this fuck?’ Wrath demanded.
‘Superdooper, my brother, it’s just Stravinsky’s new album, Gothic Fence.’ Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with gloomy Band-Aid keys.
‘Asshole, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking lustrous!’
Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X mocking a civilian vampire.  With an alley.’
‘Time to moan. Hideously.’ said Wrath.
‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to beat some burnished hair rollers.’

—-
and I couldn’t resist: now in semi-German, Germish, Englan or how should I call it? (some things don’t work too well, there no gerundium and so on…):

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Neue Deutsche Welle. Tohr and Rhage were listening to Nena again. 
‘What is this, Kruzitürken?’ Wrath demanded.
‘Megastark, my brother, it’s just Nena’s new album, Hünenhaft Grünspan.’
Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with glänzenden Tempo Lederpeitschen.
‘Verflixt nochmal, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking düster!’
Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X bespringen a civilian vampire.  With Grünkohl.’
‘Time zu bremsen. Schillernd.’ said Wrath.
‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to dazzle some pompöse Bettdecken.’

:-D

I amused myself by adding an utterly unnecessary “h” to every entry in the madlibs. It seemed appropriate.

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Wrath opened the door to the sound of mhetal.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to AC/DC again.  ‘What is this fhuck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Rhadical, my brother, it’s just AC/DC’s new album, Chrackilicious Bhlood.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with whrathful Khleenex fhangs.

  ‘Ahss, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking jhealous!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X fhighting a civilian vampire.  With a dhagger.’

‘Time to suhck. Zsadistically.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to whrithe some bhuff hhands.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of 80’s soft rock.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Michael Jackson again.  ‘What is this Holy Shit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get shag some hot hellhounds.’

Oh this was AWESOME!  I have tears in my eyes!  OMG and I’m trying to work out a contract with my sales guy while I’m doing this and I’m laughing at him!!

To those of you who wrote “Gag me with a spoon” or some variation: I salute your genius.  I laughed so hard I started convulsing.

As for mine, the best part was this line:

‘Capital, my brother, it’s just Andrew Lloyd Webber’s new album, Whiny Cat.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of rock opera.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Queen again.  ‘What is this fuckwad?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Bummer, my brother, it’s just Queen’s new album, Dollop Hotthrob.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with voluptuous Philadelphia Cheese slippers.

  ‘Asslicker, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking lying!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X giddyupping a civilian vampire.  With a bungee cord.’

‘Time to bellow. Noxiously.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to harden some orange vibrators.’

These were hilarious.  I had to go calm myself in the hallway before I embarrassed myself in front of my co-workers.

Wrath opened the door to the sound of polka.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Kenny G again.  ‘What is this asshat?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Neato, my brother, it’s just Kenny G’s new album, Bloody Watch.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with skanky Playtex ice skates.

  ‘Fucktard, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking tumescent!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X boning a civilian vampire.  With a Post It Note.’

‘Time to scarf. Wearily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to crap some early nails.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of jazz.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Manhattan Transfer again.  ‘What is this cocksucker?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Phresh, my brother, it’s just Manhattan Transfer’s new album, Scorching Thong.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with lovely Advil pickles.

  ‘Hot damn, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking impressive!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X fondling a civilian vampire.  With a yogurt.’

‘Time to breach. Friendly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to treasure some exquisite harpies.’
—
My verification word is came55. It’s true. I came at least 55 times reading these madlibs. Made of awesome!

I did this at work but then I couldn’t post it because the filter on my computer at work considered the comment section “porn”.

(Bear in mind, when I couldn’t think of a word for a category, I stole one from an ad that was playing—bet you can’t guess which one…)


Wrath opened the door to the sound of acid jazz.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Vanilla Ice again.  ‘What is this shit?’ Wrath demanded.
  ‘Rad, my brother, it’s just Vanilla Ice’s new album, Gassy Nobody.’
Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with gooey Papa John’s cheesesticks.
  ‘Gawd-damn motherfucking son-of-a-bitch, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking golden!’
  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X prancing around a civilian vampire.  With a pogo stick.’
‘Time to lave. Hastily.’ said Wrath.
  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to chew some clanging trains.’

Is it my birthday already?  It could be because I wished for the Doc Turtle mad libs and voila, here they are!  And awesome too.  Once the laughter dies down a bit, I’ll go out and try one for myself.

What fun!!!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Opera.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Mick Jagger again.  ‘What is this fuck a duck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘It is a huckleberry above a persimmon, my brother, it’s just Mick Jagger’s new album, Hot pink Cream cheese.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with fat Mercedes Benz rockets.

  ‘Screw it, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking fizzy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X carrying a civilian vampire.  With a needle.’

‘Time to create. Bodaciously.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get some rusty pillows.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of soft pop.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Celine Dion again.  ‘What is this f^&*%!?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get taken to some persuasive archives.’

This was fun!  I’m a little worried by titillating Jello corsets, though.

Ha! Love Madlibs!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of polka.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Coldplay again.  ‘What is this shitbucket?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Oy vey, my brother, it’s just Coldplay’s new album, Dry Handbag.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with tangled Huggies light bulbs.

  ‘Cock knocker, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking dusty!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X swinging a civilian vampire.  With a photo album.’

‘Time to get. Slinkily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to lick some clear bananas.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of soft rock.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Sting again.  ‘What is this crap?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Sting’s new album, Funny Poker.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with unusual IKEA geese.

  ‘Shit, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking special!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X liking a civilian vampire.  With a feather.’

‘Time to walk. Loudly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to topple some red phones.’

Okay this is actually my second try b/c I lost the first one. I tried to use the same words. My favorite part is “Word, my brother.” I’m going to have to start using that. =)

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Wrath opened the door to the sound of country.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Willie Nelson again.  ‘What is this dumbass?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Word, my brother, it’s just Willie Nelson’s new album, Horny Mob.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with bodacious Dr. Pepper pills.

  ‘Damn it, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking hairy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X fucking a civilian vampire.  With a planet.’

‘Time to jump up and down. Quickly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to sucking balls some jiggly shoes.’

Dr. Turtle wins at the internet!

Ya’ll are killing me with these MadLibs!

Here’s mine:

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Nerdcore.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to MC Frontalot again.  ‘What is this Bitches?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Shiznit, my brother, it’s just MC Frontalot’s new album, Shy Robot.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with Hot Pepsi Buns.

  ‘Cock Gobbler, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking Crazy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X Flashing a civilian vampire.  With a Cunt.’

‘Time To Beat. Furiously.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get Screw some Sweet Feet.’

Hurrah!  Doc Turtle and mad libs are full of win and then some!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of disco.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to The BeeGees again.  ‘What is this Assmonkey?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Far out, my brother, it’s just The BeeGees’s new album, Turgid Member.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with throbbing keebler globes.

  ‘Dickcheese, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking rigid!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X rubbing a civilian vampire.  With a dirk.’

‘Time caress. Slickly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get has some swollen mounds.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of classical.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Beethoven again.  ‘What is this cocksucker?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Radical, my brother, it’s just Beethoven’s new album, Stiff Hoo hoo.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with slick Kodak nipples.

  ‘Damn, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking aroused!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X thrusting a civilian vampire.  With a flower.’

‘Time to hump. Firmly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to lick some aching buns.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Balkan folk.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Ayde Mori again.  ‘What is this Odin’s testicle?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Rad, my brother, it’s just Ayde Mori’s new album, Smarmy Window.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with eloquent Sunkist Post-it Notes (TM).

  ‘Poop, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking crenellated!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X grasping a civilian vampire.  With a transmission.’

‘Time to enamel. Throatily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to spiral-bind some disfunctional ice cubes.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of thrash-country.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to John Denver again.  ‘What is this Jumpin’ Jehosephat?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Leapin’ Lizards, my brother, it’s just John Denver’s new album, Sly Hampster.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with callous Mary Poppin’s Own trees.

  ‘Dagnabit, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking authentic!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X farming a civilian vampire.  With a spoon.’

‘Time to perform. Nearly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get groveling some moody biscuits.’

Thank you, Doc Turtle!

Again, again!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Crunkcore.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Brokencyde again.  ‘What is this Turd Sandwich?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Hood Rats, my brother, it’s just Brokencyde’s new album, Swanky Twat.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with Swollen Tampax Balls.

  ‘Dingleberry, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking Sweet!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X Taunting a civilian vampire.  With a Doll.’

‘Time To Fuck. Vigorously.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get To Hump some Sweaty Furries.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of salsa.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to John Tesh again.  ‘What is this dang?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Hep cat, my brother, it’s just John Tesh’s new album, Funky Love’s Baby Soft.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with fresh Keds cowboys.

  ‘Bugger, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking odiferous!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X loathing a civilian vampire.  With a pleather.’

‘Time to screw. Barkingly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to punish some squiffy biscuits.’

OMG, the best part are the compound swearwords that are new to me!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of country.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Brad paisley again.  ‘What is this crap?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Homes, my brother, it’s just Brad paisley’s new album, Sparkly Train.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with fun prada dogs.

  ‘Bitch, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking pretty!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X doing a civilian vampire.  With a bird.’

‘Time to drive. Huskily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to break some wicked candles.’

TOO HILARIOUS.  Here’s Mine:
Wrath opened the door to the sound of polka.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Cousin Fuzzy again.  ‘What is this bollocks?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Mad aleck, my brother, it’s just Cousin Fuzzy’s new album, Zany Air.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with fat Kraft cats.

  ‘Twat, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking huge-normous!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X pissing, behind a civilian vampire.  With a consonant.’

‘Time shouted. Deftly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get back some aubergine sails.’

Dept. of true confessions: I went and looked up verb-form terminology before filling out the form; it’s been too long since I’ve had to remember what “gerund” means. 

Now, then:

Wrath opened the door to the sound of gospel.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Minnie Pearl again.  ‘What is this drek?’ Wrath demanded.

‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to explode some muscular AK-47s.’

This broke my lurker habit! Here’s my attempt

Wrath opened the door to the sound of teen pop.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to New Kids on the Block again.  ‘What is this horseshit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Cool beans, my brother, it’s just New Kids on the Block’s new album, Frightful Train.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with spicy Jell-O games.

  ‘Crap on a stick, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking weak!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X cooking a civilian vampire.  With a beaver.’

‘Time beg. Longingly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to load some Awesome mountains.’

Here’s mine…

Wrath opened the door to the sound of jazz.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Sting again.  ‘What is this crap?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Sting’s new album, Black Rectangle.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with yellow Jello watermelons.

  ‘Shit, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking squishy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X sitting a civilian vampire.  With a sunflower.’

‘Time to go. Slowly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to play some purple casabas.’

A pity some of the words you fill in don’t seem to actually get incorporated into the result.
——————————-
Wrath opened the door to the sound of progressive metal.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Billie Holiday again.  ‘What is this bullocks?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Square, my brother, it’s just Billie Holiday’s new album, Jumpy Bunyip.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with furry Kitchen Aid wizards.

  ‘Bugger, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking rugose!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X skipping a civilian vampire.  With a lathe.’

‘Time to juggle. Moistly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get dial some squamous tea bags.’
——-
reached43-not yet

“Hot Pink Cream Cheese” actually sounds like it could be the new Mick Jagger album.

What I want to know is, is the original of this passage taken directly from Dark Lover, or did DocTurtle just make something up?

I oughta be working….can’t resist.

~*~

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Disco.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Bee-Gees again.  ‘What is this bitch?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Ho, my brother, it’s just Bee-Gees’s new album, Sexy Sham-WOW.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with stinky Tucks boobs.

  ‘Douche-bag, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking shifty!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X sexing a civilian vampire.  With a sexpot.’

‘Time to be-bop. Silkily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get flipped some skanky books.’

For whatever reason, I decided to go with a whole lotta G’s:
Wrath opened the door to the sound of jazz.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Kenny G again.  ‘What is this cock breath?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Gag me, my brother, it’s just Kenny G’s new album, Goofy Grape.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with ginormous Tater Tots genomes.

  ‘Motherfuck, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking greedy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X filling a civilian vampire.  With a gun.’

‘Time to graze. Gaseously.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to transition some gullible geese.’

spamword:  size55.  gawd, I hope not.

Wrath opened the door to the sound of disco.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Yanni again.  ‘What is this cocksucker?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Dollface, my brother, it’s just Yanni’s new album, Juicy Sword.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with putrid Trojan eruptions.

  ‘Sons of bitches, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking flamboyant!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X thrusting a civilian vampire.  With a lollipop.’

‘Time to leap. Darkly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to obliterate some kickass groundhogs.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of EMO.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Rilo Kiley again.  ‘What is this horseshit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Dude, my brother, it’s just Rilo Kiley’s new album, Obscenely Peaches.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with bubbly Sunburst creampuffs.

  ‘Bugger, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking effervescent!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X swinging a civilian vampire.  With a flute.’

‘Time to boogie. Quickly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to snort some magnificent stilettos.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of zydeco.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Flea again.  ‘What is this Fucktard?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Dy-no-myte!, my brother, it’s just Flea’s new album, Hairy Bosom.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with perky Carnation ta-ta’s.

  ‘Douchebag, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking taut!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X licking a civilian vampire.  With a frenulum.’

‘Time to grope. Dangerously.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to fondle some stiff peckers.’

These mad libs are worse than crystal meth…So addicting!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of punk.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to The Sex Pistols again.  ‘What is this shithead?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Heavy, my brother, it’s just The Sex Pistols’s new album, Rosey Hooter.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with purple Oscar Meyer testes.

  ‘Goddamn, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking veiny!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X molesting a civilian vampire.  With a dong.’

‘Time to thrust. Achingly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to suck some bodaceous jugs.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of tweeny pop.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Glenn Danzig again.  ‘What is this Poopsicle!?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Glenn Danzig’s new album, Soft Shaft.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with cuddly Astroglide teeth.

  ‘Balls!, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking fluffy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X spanking a civilian vampire.  With a latke.’

‘Time to plotz. Sprightly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to reupholster some bootylicious claws.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of pop.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Erasure again.  ‘What is this asshattery?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Far out, my brother, it’s just Erasure’s new album, Puce Snot.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with melancholic Ford dildos.

  ‘Bugger, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking lackadaisical!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X laving a civilian vampire.  With a handjob.’

‘Time to lathe. Fluidly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to boink some lusty monkeys.’

“What is this fuck?” I love this and am going to use this in everyday conversation from now on.

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Acid techno.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Michael Bolton again.  ‘What is this fuck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Great Googly Moogly!, my brother, it’s just Michael Bolton’s new album, Smelly Digital SLR camera.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with dorkerrific Christian Louboutin machetes.

  ‘Bollocks, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking pointy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X screwing a civilian vampire.  With a Sellotape.’

‘Time to fly. Mournfully.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to eat some ludicrous iPods.’

Too too awesome.  Thank you, Doc Turtle.

Wrath opened the door to the sound of reggae.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to James Brown again.  ‘What is this cunt?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Rad, my brother, it’s just James Brown’s new album, Assmonkey Lemoncello.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with funky Eddie Bauer weasels.

  ‘Fuck, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking bitchin’!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X reading a civilian vampire.  With a sheath.’

‘Time to die. Absatively.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to eat some fierce books.’

And my results after asking my brothers for their input.
——————
Wrath opened the door to the sound of cow punk.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Squeeze again.  ‘What is this Goll darn it?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Twenty-three skidoo, my brother, it’s just Squeeze’s new album, Oily Hedgehog.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with purple Kitchen Aid kittens.

  ‘Crap, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking inter-locking!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X plummeting a civilian vampire.  With a blood bank.’

‘Time to choke. Slowly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to boggle some deadly hostages.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of reggae.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Bob Marley again.  ‘What is this shit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Bob Marley’s new album, Wonky Escalade.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with slippery Dr. Pepper legs.

  ‘Damn, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking evil!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X hosing a civilian vampire.  With a chair.’

‘Time to die. Sympathetically.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to mow some phony arms.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of medieval madrigals.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to George Thoroughgood and the Destroyers again.  ‘What is this shit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Slap ma fro’, my brother, it’s just George Thoroughgood and the Destroyers’s new album, Amazing Presentation.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with quality WWE tapestries.

  ‘Fuckmonkey, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking homosexual!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X covering a civilian vampire.  With a cross.’

‘Time to discuss cross-dressing and gender issues. Classily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to breed some historic couches.’

You know, reading mine again… the sentences are eerily coherent.

PS—A lot of the “These are fucking…” sentences sound like something out of a Mitch Hedberg routine. Especially “These are fucking interlocking!”

floor28—Hit the floor 28 times with laughter.

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Dub.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Level 80 Elite Tauren Cheiftans again.  ‘What is this twatweasel?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Grody, my brother, it’s just Level 80 Elite Tauren Cheiftans’s new album, Smarmy Hot dog.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with bodacious   Acme vials.

  ‘Jiminy fucktits, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking madcrazy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X rolling a civilian vampire.  With a bun.’

‘Time to impale. Desolately.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to cross some puddingish pockets.’

I’m laughing so hard at all these Mad Libs BDB-style. And I had to do another one:

Wrath opened the door to the sound of new wave.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Oingo Boingo again.  ‘What is this asshole?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Trendy, my brother, it’s just Oingo Boingo’s new album, Gooey Dick.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with slippery Preparation H fuckmonkeys.

  ‘Shitface, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking groddy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X grinding a civilian vampire.  With a shit.’

‘Time drooling. Clearly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get slobbering some icky dickwads.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of punk.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Michael Jackson again.  ‘What is this assmunch?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Neato, my brother, it’s just Michael Jackson’s new album, Hard Knee.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with throbbing Nike breasts.

  ‘Dickwad, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking wet!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X punishing a civilian vampire.  With a manroot.’

‘Time to see. Slowly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to taste some erect balls.’

This game is just too much fun.  Crahktastic!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of big band music.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Dan Hicks and the Hot Licks again.  ‘What is this bullhockey?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Jumpin’ Jehosephat, my brother, it’s just Dan Hicks and the Hot Licks’s new album, Sleek Twat.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with super-sized Tropicana orgasms.

  ‘Holy shite, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking effervescent!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X impaling a civilian vampire.  With a hedgehog.’

‘Time to levitate. Manfully.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to transcend some evangelical pillowcases.’

spamword: nature84 - It’s my nature to want to play this game 84 times.

The mad libs are so full of win it’s not even funny. 

Wrath opened the door to the sound of punk.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Lady Gaga again.  ‘What is this Goddamn?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Fo’ shizzle, my brother, it’s just Lady Gaga’s new album, Fugly Laptop.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with sad Honda mice.

  ‘Fuck, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking pissy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X sighing a civilian vampire.  With a book.’

‘Time be. Superbly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to know some awesome flutes.’

awesome!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of bluegrass.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to The Gourds again.  ‘What is this fuck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Boss, my brother, it’s just The Gourds’s new album, Livid Subaru Forrester LE.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with splitting pepperidge farm kittens.

  ‘Damn, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking deadly!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X fucking a civilian vampire.  With a Rolex gold watch.’

‘Time to damn. Furious.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to give some fluffy martinis.’

I know I put in shitkicker as one of my words, but somehow it isn’t in there.

Also: Doc Turtle, I didn’t realize you teach at UNC Asheville! I was there a few years ago, when NCUR was there. Neat school, awesome town.

Cat Marsters: I think you win. I haven’t read all of them, though.

I had to do one more, regency style:
——-
Wrath opened the door to the sound of Lady Jane playing the piano.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Haendel again.  ‘What is this, bugger you?’ Wrath demanded.
‘I say, my brother, it’s just Haendel’s new album, Supercilious Ball gown.’
Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with dainty Bond Street Hessian Boots.
‘Faugh, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking high in the instep!’
Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X waltzing with a civilian vampire.  With a taper.’
‘Time to stroll. Condescendingly.’ said Wrath.
‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to bow to some sprigged house parties.’
——
back to work!

Love this and love Doc Turtle’s comments.

Wrath opened the door to the sound of opera.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Placido Domingo again.  ‘What is this fuck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Broad, my brother, it’s just Placido Domingo’s new album, Thrusting Plate.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with wet Tampax hammers.

  ‘Shit, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking grotesque!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X opening a civilian vampire.  With a ukelele.’

‘Time to go. Delicately.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get fondle some sensitive passports.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of bluegrass.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Zooey Deschanel again.  ‘What is this wedding vegetables?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Keen, my brother, it’s just Zooey Deschanel’s new album, Smelly Bjork.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with dangerous Massengill nozzles.

  ‘Poopy head, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking bright!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X penciling a civilian vampire.  With a freeway.’

‘Time to squat. Hotly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to consider some pulsing marbles.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of a cappella.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Baldwin Charm again.  ‘What is this Fuckadoodledoo?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Baldwin Charm’s new album, Frustrating Professor.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with lifeless Coke skittles.

  ‘Shit, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking wistfull!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X trade a civilian vampire.  With a job.’

‘Time to sing. Quickly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to move some purple interns.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of indie pop.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Eminem again.  ‘What is this shit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Gnarly!, my brother, it’s just Eminem’s new album, Homophobic Dagger.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with rockin’ Rubbermaid shitkickers.

  ‘Damn, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking leathery!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X punishing a civilian vampire.  With a Escalade.’

‘Time to love. Vigorously.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to invite some pale fangs.’

If Domingo made an album called Thrusting Plate I would buy it.

OK, here’s mine.

Wrath opened the door to the sound of reggae.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Burning Spear again.  ‘What is this heck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Cool, my brother, it’s just Burning Spear’s new album, Squishy Sweater.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with leathery Motrin cows.

  ‘Blasted, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking warm!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X wearing a civilian vampire.  With a hog.’

‘Time shopping. Shiny.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get called some spiky guns.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of folk music.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Jay Z again.  ‘What is this fucktard?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Like totally radical, my brother, it’s just Jay Z’s new album, Ridonkulous Ass crack.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with skeevy keebler double fudge cookie douche bags.

  ‘Cocksucker, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking shitty!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X flexing a civilian vampire.  With a piehole.’

‘Time to run. Voraciously.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get farting some voluptuous penes.’

***********************************************
This had to be the most hilarious set of comments i’ve read.  EVAH!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of Death Metal.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Deathtongue again.  ‘What is this asshat?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Cats Pajamas, my brother, it’s just Deathtongue’s new album, Frothy Dagger.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with sparkly Twilight Dildos.

  ‘Cheesedick, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking graceful!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X laving a civilian vampire.  With a foreskin.’

‘Time to blave. Amazingly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to skeeze some manly Mermen.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of trance.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Okean Elzy again.  ‘What is this Jugfucker?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Twenty-three skiddoo, my brother, it’s just Okean Elzy’s new album, Upside-down Beast.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with smelly Hugo Boss bedsheets.

  ‘Sonofabitch, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking three-sided!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X eating a civilian vampire.  With a poop.’

‘Time to grind. Lustily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to punish some engorged testes.’

next45? The next45 of these will only be more hysterical.

Wrath opened the door to the sound of minimalism.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Andre Rieu again.  ‘What is this Arsehole?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Boyo, my brother, it’s just Andre Rieu’s new album, Blooming Grass.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with lugubrious Glen-20 wings.

  ‘Crap, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking transcendent!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X lifting a civilian vampire.  With a carpet.’

‘Time to cha-cha. Blatantly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to groan some squishy planks.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of ars nova.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Alanis Morissette again.  ‘What is this shit balls?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘As if, my brother, it’s just Alanis Morissette’s new album, Green Leather Chaps.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with sweaty Tevas sticky buns.

  ‘Fuck, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking turgid!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X throbbing a civilian vampire.  With a scrunchie.’

‘Time to curtsey. Hungrily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to yak some sweet kittens.’

Oh God, hysterical!  Mine:

—
Wrath opened the door to the sound of swing.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Bud Freeman again.  ‘What is this motherfucker?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Jinkies, my brother, it’s just Bud Freeman’s new album, Spunky Turtle.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with impoverished Kotex eyeballs.

  ‘Cuntweasel, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking sexy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X examining a civilian vampire.  With a kitten.’

‘Time to cuddle. Abashedly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to eat some green castanets.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of ska.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Johnny Cash again.  ‘What is this fuck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Hep cat, my brother, it’s just Johnny Cash’s new album, Red Hour.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with huge Jello legs.

  ‘Shit, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking light!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X petting a civilian vampire.  With a fret.’

‘Time to succor. Quickly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to excoriate some profound trucks.’

I cheated a teeny weeny bit!

Wrath opened the door to the sound of jazz.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Ray Charles again.  ‘What is this bumfuck?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Groovy, my brother, it’s just Ray Charles’s new album, Slutty Lovejuice.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with generous Louis Vitton muffins.

  ‘Motherfucker, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking juicy!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X smacking a civilian vampire.  With a buttcheek.’

‘Time to jiggle. Sexily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to squeeze some shapely dildos.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of classical.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to The Foo Fighters again.  ‘What is this ass?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Rocking, my brother, it’s just The Foo Fighters’s new album, Etched Desk.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with square Kelloggs hockey sticks.

  ‘Bitch, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking green!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X sniffing a civilian vampire.  With a lily.’

‘Time to defenestrate. Quickly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to chat with some plush frying pans.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of polka.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Shania Twain again.  ‘What is this suckamuthafucka?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Da Bomb, my brother, it’s just Shania Twain’s new album, Fuzzeh Tinkle.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with smelly Applebottom buttresses.

  ‘Cockhole, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking peckish!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X slapping a civilian vampire.  With a toenail.’

‘Time to blow. Prettily.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to spank some spikey sabre-toothed moose lions.’

I don’t know how I missed this last week…

Wrath opened the door to the sound of bluegrass.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Milli Vanilli again.  ‘What is this snarlyfart?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Word, my brother, it’s just Milli Vanilli’s new album, Overwrought Castle.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with purplish Vicodin cookies.

  ‘Merde, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking high-strung!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X tripping a civilian vampire.  With a tree.’

‘Time to orgasm. Feverishly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to impart some mud-slick scythes.’

Wrath opened the door to the sound of showtunes.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Madonna again.  ‘What is this shit?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Talk to the hand, my brother, it’s just Madonna’s new album, Hairy Door.’

Just then Fritz came in.  With a tray laden with tall Apple people.

  ‘Fuck, Fritz!’ cried Rhage.  ‘These are fucking shiny!’

  Vishous came in, dagger drawn.  ‘The lessers are back.  I caught Mr. X calling a civilian vampire.  With a monster.’

‘Time to read. Quickly.’ said Wrath.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get took some large bats.’

Oh God, I literally laughed until it hurt, until I cried, until I woke up my son… UPSTAIRS… dear Lord, whatever age it is when MadLibs stop being fucking hilarious, I want to die the day before I hit it.  The ones that made me laugh the hardest?  All of Cat Marsters’ one—the vhampires speaking in such posh tones, HAHAHA—whichever one said, “Suck it, Fritz!”, and when Wrath says, “Time to blow.  Sporadically.”  *dies laughing again*

Okay, well, better late than never, right?  Here’s mine, only a month or so overdue… I have to admit, I love the last line…

Wrath opened the door to the sound of muzak.  Tohr and Rhage were listening to Disturbed again.  ‘What is this fuckityfrickinfrack?’ Wrath demanded.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Rhage.  ‘I don’t care as long as I get to ejaculate some holy alien robots.’