"Is that milk or did my water just break?" The boy wondered aloud.
"shit! Call the foot," shouted Mum, grabbing the town and running into the bathroom.
Holding her arms, The boy pissed like an huge shoe toward the bag.
"Remember what they said to do - to get through the contractions, you need to hit, hit, hit," Mum said painfully.
"Calm down! If this is labor, I'm Johnny Depp."
"But we have to be ready! Do you have a focal point?"
"Yes," The boy said. "The trolley."
"I'll go see if I can slowly fit it in the toyota camry. You stay here and dribble," yelled Mum, and ran out the door.
The boy shouted back into the bathroom and sniffed. Maybe it was milk, after all.
Go on, have a try for yourself and send me your stories.
7 comments:
well I don't know about anyone else (apart from flying kiwi) but I was lmao. Brought back memories of our family madlib games. Especially the indelibly memorable (to the tune of Hotel California):
Up ahead in the brewery
I saw a retarded horse
what's lmao?
"Is that Bacardi or did my water just break?" Bob wondered aloud.
"cowabunga dude! Call the neighbour," shouted Larry, grabbing the window and running into the toilet.
Holding her big toe, Bob ran like an red happiness toward the negotiation.
"Remember what they said to do - to get through the contractions, you need to drown, drown, drown," Larry said rapidly.
"Calm down! If this is labor, I'm Helen Clark."
"But we have to be ready! Do you have a focal point?"
"Yes," Bob said. "The fight."
"I'll go see if I can so fit it in the door. You stay here and die," yelled Larry, and ran out the door.
Bob screamed back into the toilet and sniffed. Maybe it was Bacardi, after all.
eb and onscreen: some great little stories there. I think onscreen's story wins on the bizarre-ness score.
"Is that Coke or did my water just break?" Alison wondered aloud.
"Holy crap! Call the cat," shouted Tina, grabbing the fridge and running into the Lounge.
Holding her shoulders, Alison swallowed like an dishevelled telly toward the bed.
"Remember what they said to do - to get through the contractions, you need to yell, yell, yell," Tina said hastily.
"Calm down! If this is labor, I'm Georgina Beyer."
"But we have to be ready! Do you have a focal point?"
"Yes," Alison said. "The chocolate."
"I'll go see if I can hurriedly fit it in the dumpy. You stay here and crawl," yelled Tina, and ran out the door.
Alison cried back into the Lounge and sniffed. Maybe it was Coke, after all.
Hmm, the comment I wrote the other day isn't here...
lmao = laughing my arse off (can't believe I'm explaining blogspeak to you, oh wise and experienced one)
I also wondered if the trolley the boy was focussing on in your story might be a DRINKS trolley...
Alison: Coke indeed, or did you mean coke hmmm?
Editter: I'm also hopeless at interpreting txt messages. Well, if the boy had been involved in creating the story and not me, then yes it certainly would have been a drinks trolley!
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