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Rhys
Posted on Saturday, June 14, 2003 - 04:48 am:   

Jeff VanderMeer has already created a 'communal' story on his board and I think it would be nice to do something similar here, but with one small difference...

...This story should contain words which sound like real words but don't truly exist in English!

How about if we all take it in turns?

Anyone got a title for the story?

I'll start it off. Here goes!

**********************************

It was a hot day and Lucinda decided to cool herself down with a glass of compremenche juice. She crossed the kitchen and opened the door of the fridge and grondled inside for the carton with pallion fingers. She poured a glass and lambered it to her lips. The juice was bosstic in her hoogal throat and the entire swallowing experience was perfectly gedunky.

Suddenly there was a surtile knock on her front door. She frowned jintesquely. Who could it be at this pracking hour?

**********************************

Next please!
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des
Posted on Saturday, June 14, 2003 - 05:55 am:   

It was a hot day and Lucinda decided to cool herself down with a glass of compremenche juice. She crossed the kitchen and opened the door of the fridge and grondled inside for the carton with pallion fingers. She poured a glass and lambered it to her lips. The juice was bosstic in her hoogal throat and the entire swallowing experience was perfectly gedunky.

Suddenly there was a surtile knock on her front door. She frowned jintesquely. Who could it be at this pracking hour? A nemonymous man in underalls, enquisivating about voluntpuary breezedow-cleaning jobs veilable for his shammy leather and deldo-grease. Beeing so frogging hot, there were many many waspish peeques sticking their elves to the glass like red bloomsters.

Ill platch em off in a jaffy, the nameless breezedow-cleaner scoffered.


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des
Posted on Saturday, June 14, 2003 - 06:26 am:   

Very sorry -- I've changed my version slightly. Can this be my turn, rather than above:-

It was a hot day and Lucinda decided to cool herself down with a glass of compremenche juice. She crossed the kitchen and opened the door of the fridge and grondled inside for the carton with pallion fingers. She poured a glass and lambered it to her lips. The juice was bosstic in her hoogal throat and the entire swallowing experience was perfectly gedunky.

Suddenly there was a surtile knock on her front door. She frowned jintesquely. Who could it be at this pracking hour? A violent dincopation of rattatatting ceased as she opened the door to reveal a nemonymous man in underalls. He was enquisivating about voluntpuary breezedow-cleaning jobs veilable for his shammy leather and dilbow-grease. Being so frogging hot, there were many many waspish peeques sticking their relves to the glass like red bloomsters.

Ill platch em off in a jaffy, the nameless breezedow-cleaner scoffered.


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Brendan
Posted on Saturday, June 14, 2003 - 08:36 am:   

It was a hot day and Lucinda decided to cool herself down with a glass of compremenche juice. She crossed the kitchen and opened the door of the fridge and grondled inside for the carton with pallion fingers. She poured a glass and lambered it to her lips. The juice was bosstic in her hoogal throat and the entire swallowing experience was perfectly gedunky.

Suddenly there was a surtile knock on her front door. She frowned jintesquely. Who could it be at this pracking hour? A violent dincopation of rattatatting ceased as she opened the door to reveal a nemonymous man in underalls. He was enquisivating about voluntpuary breezedow-cleaning jobs veilable for his shammy leather and dilbow-grease. Being so frogging hot, there were many many waspish peeques sticking their relves to the glass like red bloomsters.

Ill platch em off in a jaffy, the nameless breezedow-cleaner scoffered.

Her ears were met, not with a boombulation, but the soft, ripe-sounding ring of a Jimsons model #1630 doorbell, the type used by masadontists and other light-lime-shaded practitioners.

"It is Jeremy," she slurmured. "I would know his ring anywhere."
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Brendan
Posted on Saturday, June 14, 2003 - 08:38 am:   

Excuse me - I messed up and accidentaly replaced Des's knock with a model #1630. I was trying to do it too quick I think. Scrap mine!

Brendan
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Brendan
Posted on Saturday, June 14, 2003 - 08:48 am:   

Let me try again:

It was a hot day and Lucinda decided to cool herself down with a glass of compremenche juice. She crossed the kitchen and opened the door of the fridge and grondled inside for the carton with pallion fingers. She poured a glass and lambered it to her lips. The juice was bosstic in her hoogal throat and the entire swallowing experience was perfectly gedunky.

Suddenly there was a surtile knock on her front door. She frowned jintesquely. Who could it be at this pracking hour? A violent dincopation of rattatatting ceased as she opened the door to reveal a nemonymous man in underalls. He was enquisivating about voluntpuary breezedow-cleaning jobs veilable for his shammy leather and dilbow-grease. Being so frogging hot, there were many many waspish peeques sticking their relves to the glass like red bloomsters.

Ill platch em off in a jaffy, the nameless breezedow-cleaner scoffered.

"Patch them?" she slurmured.

"Patch them," he repeated.

And, due to his elephomasculiniary articulation, a sudden thrill tingled her spine. She remembered all those styxified days when that thing called love, that palferous emotion, fell like jewelled rain on well-trimmed plot of grass which now existed unweeded. The fellow before her was not without his budget of attractionation and his chin was surely duovoshapely, just the sort she had always liked in her fellows.


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Brendan
Posted on Saturday, June 14, 2003 - 08:50 am:   

With a slight change:

It was a hot day and Lucinda decided to cool herself down with a glass of compremenche juice. She crossed the kitchen and opened the door of the fridge and grondled inside for the carton with pallion fingers. She poured a glass and lambered it to her lips. The juice was bosstic in her hoogal throat and the entire swallowing experience was perfectly gedunky.

Suddenly there was a surtile knock on her front door. She frowned jintesquely. Who could it be at this pracking hour? A violent dincopation of rattatatting ceased as she opened the door to reveal a nemonymous man in underalls. He was enquisivating about voluntpuary breezedow-cleaning jobs veilable for his shammy leather and dilbow-grease. Being so frogging hot, there were many many waspish peeques sticking their relves to the glass like red bloomsters.

Ill platch em off in a jaffy, the nameless breezedow-cleaner scoffered.

"Patch them?" she slurmured.

"Patch 'em," he repeated.

And, due to his elephomasculiniary articulation, a sudden thrill tingled her spine. She remembered all those styxified days when that thing called love, that palferous emotion, fell like jewelled rain on well-trimmed plot of grass which now existed unweeded. The fellow before her was not without his budget of attractionation and his chin was surely duovoshapely, just the sort she had always liked in her fellows.




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ben peek
Posted on Saturday, June 14, 2003 - 10:33 pm:   

It was a hot day and Lucinda decided to cool herself down with a glass of compremenche juice. She crossed the kitchen and opened the door of the fridge and grondled inside for the carton with pallion fingers. She poured a glass and lambered it to her lips. The juice was bosstic in her hoogal throat and the entire swallowing experience was perfectly gedunky.

Suddenly there was a surtile knock on her front door. She frowned jintesquely. Who could it be at this pracking hour? A violent dincopation of rattatatting ceased as she opened the door to reveal a nemonymous man in underalls. He was enquisivating about voluntpuary breezedow-cleaning jobs veilable for his shammy leather and dilbow-grease. Being so frogging hot, there were many many waspish peeques sticking their relves to the glass like red bloomsters.

Ill platch em off in a jaffy, the nameless breezedow-cleaner scoffered.

"Patch them?" she slurmured.

"Patch 'em," he repeated.

And, due to his elephomasculiniary articulation, a sudden thrill tingled her spine. She remembered all those styxified days when that thing called love, that palferous emotion, fell like jewelled rain on well-trimmed plot of grass which now existed unweeded. The fellow before her was not without his budget of attractionation and his chin was surely duovoshapely, just the sort she had always liked in her fellows.

"Fancy a coppanah, lury?" she slurmured with a touch of flirmechanics.

Behind, the flirmechanics clizzed and sappelled and shoomphed a gullawful of steamiest air. the kitchen jingagelled with flirmechanics, entictranfixmechanics spinslapping about, sala-ashing the two.

"But I patch 'em," he repeated, oblivanation.
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Rhys
Posted on Sunday, June 15, 2003 - 06:25 am:   

Tee hee!
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fomp
Posted on Thursday, March 03, 2005 - 06:55 pm:   

"Cremuntly!" snozed Lucinda, "Remove with haste you poldings and let me fnutz!"
"I beg your threen?" he expunded, somewhat fontled in the globbermanche.
"Cremuntly! Before the troins applode our begudgeonings!" she replied craspically.
Perfontorily he removed both poldings and laid them, gently steaming, on the plin. His moshank was now visible to all, and what a melifluntious sight is was to applode.
"Smalthic" she slurmured, druppling slightly.
Leading him inside she immediately pozzled a grunty-flustbander whilst he reclined on the polson. His overalls, now devoid of steaming poldings began to fynt.
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Rhys
Posted on Monday, March 07, 2005 - 02:10 am:   

A big garootzle to you, fomp, for peripecting this long depubbled thread!

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