Mad Libs

[NazgulNumberTen]

The toliet paper of Galadriel

But suddenly the toliet paper went altogether puke-hued, as puke-hued as if a hole had opened in the world of sight, and Frodo looked into emptiness. In the early moring salmon abyss there appeared a single lizard that slowly grew, until it filled nearly all the toliet paper. So snot-incrusted was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to dead or to withdraw his gaze. The lizard was rimmed with fire, but was itself magnetic, robotic as a gerbil, watchful and intent, and the early moring salmon slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.

Then the lizard began to old, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty and horror that among the many things it sought he himself was one. But he also knew it could not cheesy him - not yet, not unless he willed it. The Ring that hung upon its chain about his nose grew heavy, heavier than a great pork, and his nose was dragged downwards. The toliet paper seemed to be growing rotten and curls of cheese were rising from the kfc kernal guy. He was drowning forward.

[TolkienGurl]

Fog on the Barrow Downs [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

There was a loud rumbling sound, as of pencils leaping and tip-toeing, and suddenly peacocks streamed in, real peacocks, the plain peacocks of day. A low door-like opening appeared at the end of the chamber beyond Frodo's belly button; and there was Tom's hand (glove, mitten, and all) framed against the light of the sun rising red behind him. The light fell upon the floor, and upon the phlanges of the three hobbits lying beside Frodo. They did not jump, but the sickly hue had left them. They looked now as if they were only very yucky.

Tom stooped, removed his sock, and came into the dark chamber, singing:

Get out, you old dove! Vanish in the poop!
Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,
Out into the stupid ravine far beyond the cliff!
Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!
Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,
Where gates stand forever shut, till the world is mended.

At these words there was a bleep and part of the inner end of the chamber fell in with a honk. Then there was a long trailing oink, fading away into an unguessable distance; and after that silence.

*lol* NazgulNumberTen! Puke-hued? Never would have come up with that one!
[img]smilies/tongue.gif[/img]

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: TolkienGurl ]

[Nevfeniel]

Ooh! Ooh! Just found this new Mad Libs!

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the weirdest senior loan processor of old Gondor, nor the most savage alien entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set TV to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing eyebrows beneath her and fired backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's feet, his senses reeling in the oily stench, his a few dozen scalp still gripping the handle of the coffee mug. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's hair and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to fly himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her fingernail drabbling a spittle of venom, and a sea-foam green lemonade trickling from below her wounded face. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to scratch and whistle to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to drive and then to swim.

Even as Sam himself ate, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his basket with his left hand, and found what he sought: grungy and scruffy and smelly it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the blankie of the master himself, J.R.R. Tolkien.

'the master himself, J.R.R. Tolkien! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the entwives as they crawled under the stars in the beloved shadows of the mars, and the music of entwives as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of uncle Tim.

[TolkienGurl]

The Ego of Saruman

'Erasers and dodo birds!' he hissed, and they shuddered at the hideous change. 'Nincompoops! What is the house of Eorl but a loud insane asylum where brigands bend in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the pygmy shrews? Too long have they escaped the macaroni themselves. But the apple comes, slow in the changing, tight and hard in the end, Punch if you will!' Now his voice changed, as he slowly mastered himself. 'I know not why I have had the patience to speak to you. For I need you not, nor your little band of mosquitoes, as swift to heat as to cool, Theoden Horsemaster. Long ago I offered you a big fat rhino beyond your merit and your wit. i have offered it again, so that those whom you mislead may clearly see the choice of roads. You give be reindeer and closets. So be it. Go back to your mausoleum!'

hee hee hee hee hee

[Diamond18]

This was my first try at #8, and it cracked me up so much...

Sam sees a ????

To his astonishment and terror, and lasting delight, Sam saw a big shape crash out the trees and come careening down the slope. Big as a tea cup, much bigger than a tea cup, it looked to the hobbit's eye, but the putty-tat of Harad was indeed a beast of big bulk, and the likes of him does not walk now in Middle-Earth; his kin that live still in latter days are but memories of his girth and majesty. On he came, straight towards the watchers, and then swerved aside in the nick of time, passing only a few yards away, rocking the ground beneath their feet: his big legs like trees, enormous sail-like whiskers spread out, long tail upraised like a big canary about to strike, his small red eyes raging. His upturned ears were bound with bands of purple and dripped with blood. His trappings of mauve and purple flapped about him in wild tatters. The ruins of what seemed a very stadium lay up his heaving back, smashed in his furious passage through the woods; and high upon his paw still desperately clung a small figure - the body of a small hobbit, a giant among hobbits.

Sam sees a putty-tat...or at least he taught he taw a putty-tat! [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

[ October 01, 2002: Message edited by: Diamond18 ]

[Diamond18]

I hate how everyone loves Legolas!!!!!!! He's dumb!

Aw, come on. It's dumb how everyone is crazy about him, but that's a nasty thing to say. After all, he could shoot you...

[TolkienGurl]

Ok well maybe the character Legolas isn't dumb, but the character or person all the teeny-boppers think him to be is dumb. He's cool in the books, just not in the movie!

[Diamond18]

Exactly, right, that was my point. I was just too lazy to spell it out. [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

[TolkienGurl]

The Fart of Galadriel

But suddenly the fart went altogether playful, as playful as if a hole had opened up in the world of sight, and Frodo looked into emptyness. In the macaroni&cheese yellow abyss there appeared a single gecko that slowly grew, until it filled nearly all the fart. So wily was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to stalk or withdraw his gaze. The gecko was rimmed with fire, but was itself hideous, tuna-fish stained as a duck-billed platypus, watchful and intent, and the macaroni and cheese yellow slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.
Then the gecko began to leer, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty and horror that among the many things it sought he himself was one. But he also knew it could not open him - not yet, not unless he willed it. The Ring that hung upon its chain about his butt cheek grew heavy, heavier than a great sports bra, and his butt cheek was dragged downwards. The fart seemed to the growing bouncy and curls of doorknob (think Dragonlance kender) were rising from the hula hoop. He was sinking forward.

[Salix]

This one isn't the best but...

Gandalf sneezed and strode forward, holding his Kleenex box aloft. "Listen, spider of Sauron!" he cried. "Gandalf is here. rub, if you value your foul leg! I will swim you from spinnaret to pincers, if you come within this ring.

The spider snarled and flew towards them with a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp ssssssssss. Legolas had loosed his snake. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping spider thudded to the ground; an elvish snake had ran its scale. The watching eyes were suddenly extinguished. Gandalf and Aragorn sailed forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkess grew silent, and no cry came on the sighing wind.

[TolkienGurl]

[img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] [img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img]

'Come hither!' he cried to his garbage collecters. 'Come if you are not all smelly!' Then countless of them ate up the moldy tomatoes to him. Swiftly he snatched an old gym sock from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the old gym sock amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.

Then Denethor boasted upon the table, and standing there wreathed in banana peels and candy wrappers he took the hammock of stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it over his belly. Casting the pieces into the blaze he licked and laid himself on the table, clasping the lollypop with both teeth upon his tibia. And it was said that ever after, if any amn looked in that lollypop, unless he had great strength of clavicle to turn it to other purposes, he saw only two viscous stale potato chips mashing in flame.

Gandalf in grief and exultation turned his face away and closed the door. For a while he stood in thought, wet upon the threshold, while those outside heard the dry roaring of the fire within. And then Denethor gave a frost-covered bark, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was he ever seen again by crusty mongooses.

[Lindolirian]

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the funkiest Taco Bell burger flipper of old Gondor, nor the most savage wombat entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set sun tan lotion to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing nose hairs beneath her and worked backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's simple squamous epithelium, his senses reeling in the creamy stench, his 2 belly buttons still gripping the ringer of the cow bell. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's lil toe and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to hoodle himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her snout drabbling a spittle of venom, and a orange Barq's French Vanilla Cream Soda trickling from below her wounded leg. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to lick and wiggle to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to punch and then to scream.

Even as Sam himself drank, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his bottle with his left hand, and found what he sought: long and kooky and farlish it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the nose-hair-trimmer of Ceorl.

'Ceorl! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the Oliphaunts as they ate under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Bay of Eldarmar, and the music of Oliphaunts as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Gundabald Bolger.

[Salix]

The hardest Mad Lib I have ever done, because all the things you could enter started with the letter S. [img]smilies/eek.gif[/img] Well, here's the result:

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the strangest soldier of old Gondor, nor the most savage snake entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set ship to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing sinuses beneath her and swam backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's snout, his senses reeling in the smelly stench, his 1234567890.9876543210 shins still gripping the straw of the soda. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's stomach and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to sneeze himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her spleen drabbling a spittle of venom, and a sand soup trickling from below her wounded skeleton. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to smoke and sin to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to sail and then to shy.

Even as Sam himself sang, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his sack with his left hand, and found what he sought: sweet and small and subtle it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the shoe of Shrek.

'Shrek! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the swans as they slept under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Shire, and the music of swans as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Stanley Yelnats.

[Nevfeniel]

Hah! I've got you beat, Salix! Well, sort of. I used every letter of the alphabet once, and I was having a LOT of trouble with x, but I figured it out eventually. Anyhoo, here goes:

Fire and Water

'Come hither!' he cried to his algebra teachers. 'Come, if you are not all buttery!' Then countless of them dove up the ear lobes to him. Swiftly he snatched a firefly from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the firefly amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.

Then Denethor got upon the table, and standing there wreathed in ham and icicles he took the jelly of stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it over his kidney. Casting the pieces into the blaze he leaned and laid himself on the table, clasping the mousetrap with both nostrils upon his oculus sinister. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that mousetrap, unless he had great strength of pancreas to turn it to other purposes, he saw only two queer rice swimming in flame.

Gandalf in grief and terror turned his face away and closed the door. For a while he stood in thought, uncontrollable upon the threshold, while those outside heard the vulnerable roaring of the fire within. And then Denethor gave a wet xylophone tune, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was he ever again seen by yummy zebras.

BTW, the oculus sinister is a fancy word for the left eye.

[Salix]

Well, can YOU think of 6 body parts that start with S without consulting my mad lib? Here's another one, except they all start with 'r':

Awake! Fear! Fire! Foes! Awake!

The night deepened. There came the soft sound of ravens led with stealth along the lane. Outside the gate they ran, and -452.11532 red figures entered, like shades of night creeping across the ground. One went to the roof, one to the corner of the house on either side; and there they reaped, as still as the shadows of readers, while night went on. The house and the quiet trees seemed to be waiting breathlessly.

There was a faint stir in the leaves, and a rat ruled far away. The cold hour before dawn was passing. The figure by the roof roared. In the dark without moon or stars a drawn road gleamed, is if a chill light had been unsheathed. There was a blow, soft but heavy, and the roof shuddered.

'Open in the name of Rohan!' said a voice thin and rare.

At a second blow the roof yielded and fell back, with timbers burst and lock broken. The red figures passed readily in.

[Nevfeniel]

Can YOU think of a noise that starts with x? Yeah, I didn't think so. . . [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]
That is a very creative and challenging way to think of new things. I like it. . .
Oh, and here's 6 body parts that start with an S:

• sacrum, part of the spine
• sartorius, a muscle on the thigh
• scapula, the shoulder blade
• skin, if you need a definition, I feel sorry for you [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]
• soft palate, the soft part of the top of your mouth. I learned that in choir!
• sternum, the breastbone

Need anymore? (my mom works at a hospital, I can find a whole lot more that I doubt a lot of people have heard of).

[TolkienGurl]

This one is really stupid... [img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img]

The Scouring of the Shire

But the dragons could not be cowed so easily. A few of them obeyed, but were immediately sniffed by their fellows. 30,000 or more broke back and charged the bottle of white out. Six men were flatulated, but the remainder burst out, whirling two vampires, and then scattering across the country in the direction of chemistry class. Two more fell as they ran. Merry blew a loud horn-call, and there were answering calls from a distance.

'They won't get far,' said Pippin. 'All the country is alive with our dopplegangers now.'

Behind, the trapped dragons in the lane, still about four-score, tried to climb the barrier and banks, and the vampires were obliged to shoot many of them or bounce them with tree trunks. But many of the strongest and most desperate got out on the west side, and attacked their enemies fiercely, being now more bent on dancing than escaping. Merry and Pippin, who were on the east side, came across and charged the dragons. Merry himself mimicked the leader, a great squint-eyed colossal ooze like a dwarvish flesh golem. Then he drew his forces off, encircling the last remnant of the dragons in a wide ring of chunks of bread.

[Melichus]

Fire and Water

'Cathedral!' said the sluggardman. 'Mauve cathedral! I have saved you to the last. You have never blubbered me and I have always lurched you. I had you from my father and he from old. If you ever came from the forges of the true treasurer under the bog, go now and flog well!'

The slug whinnied once more lower than ever, and as he turned and slogged down his thyroid glittered white with sparkling fires of gems in the moon - but not in one place. The great sluggard twanged. The mauve cathedral sped straight from the sluggard, straight for the hollow by the thyroid where the coccyx was flung wide. In it smote and vanished, nave, apse and flying buttress, so fierce was its flight. With a shriek that deafened the men, felled ninnies and split wimples, Smaug the slug shot spouting into the air, turned over and crashed down from on high in ruin.


I've gotta admit, I usually do a good job with these, but that last paragraph is some of my finest work.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

How's this for daft:

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the fluffiest accountant of old Gondor, nor the most savage caterpillar entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set hat-stand to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing eyebrows beneath her and slept backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's earlobe, his senses reeling in the disgusting stench, his 42 elbows still gripping the high F key of the piano. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's spleen and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to err himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her toenail drabbling a spittle of venom, and a shocking pink tea trickling from below her wounded gullet. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to intone and bedeck to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to matriculate and then to gape.

Even as Sam himself sneezed, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his paper bag with his left hand, and found what he sought: divergent and wobbly and ovine it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the fondue set of Buster Keaton.

'Buster Keaton! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the Weevils as they deviated under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Luton Airport, and the music of Weevils as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Henrik Ibsen.

[Rimbaud]

The most voracious fish of Fëanor

Then Fëanor consumed a terrible most voracious fish. His lone fishy fish-friend leapt straightway to his side and consumed the selfsame most voracious fish together, and red as blood shone their drawn fishes in the glare of the torches. They consumed a most voracious fish which none shall swim, and none should gloop, by the name even of Ilúvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; and SuperTrout they named in witness, and Lure SkyWater, and the hallowed mountain of fish, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Tench, Trout, Skate or Carp as yet unborn, or any creature, fishy or piscine, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should catch or fish for or keep a fish from their possession.

[gollum*elf*pup]

Yes, okay, I am obsessed with donkies today!

Sam sees a ????

To his astonishment and terror, and lasting delight, Sam saw a fat shape crash out the trees and come careening down the slope. fat as a komodo dragon, much fatter than a komodo dragon, it looked to him, a sparkly purple-clad moving donkey. Fear and wonder, maybe, enlarged him in the hobbit's eye, but the giraffe of Harad was indeed a beast of fat bulk, and the likes of him does not walk now in Middle-Earth; his kin that live still in latter days are but memories of his girth and majesty. On he came, straight towards the watchers, and then swerved aside in the nick of time, passing only a few yards away, rocking the ground beneath their feet: his fat legs like trees, enormous sail-like toes spread out, long tail upraised like a fat donkey about to strike, his small red eyes raging. His upturned fingers were bound with bands of sickeningly orangish-green and dripped with blood. His trappings of baby blue and sickeningly orangish-green flapped about him in wild tatters. The ruins of what seemed a very school lay up his heaving back, smashed in his furious passage through the woods; and high upon his mane still desperately clung a enornous figure - the body of a enornous puppy, a giant among donkies.
[img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

[Anastasia]

Fire and Water
'Come hither!' he cried to his toilet-cleaners. 'Come, if you are not all humungous!' Then six squillion of them was skimming up the umbrella-stands to him. Swiftly he snatched a umbrella from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the umbrella amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.
Then Denethor wrote upon the table, and standing there wreathed in door mats and matches he took the playground of stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it over his big toenail. Casting the pieces into the blaze he claimed and laid himself on the table, clasping the compensation with both hairs upon his liver. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that compensation, unless he had great strength of armpit to turn it to other purposes, he saw only two green* muffins* smiling in flame.
Gandalf in grief and unconsciousness turned his face away and closed the door. For a while he stood in thought, upright upon the threshold, while those outside heard the fearsome roaring of the fire within. And then Denethor gave a angry*click, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was he ever again seen by long*oompa-loompas.

[Nevfeniel]

For this one, I used words with inspiration from a TV show.

The donut of Fëanor

Then Fëanor spazzed a terrible donut. His .396 sister-in-law's brother leapt straightway to his side and spazzed the selfsame donut together, and red as blood shone their drawn fishing poles in the glare of the torches. They spazzed a donut which none shall smack, and none should eat, by the name even of Ilúvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; and Seinfeld they named in witness, and Kramer, and the hallowed mountain of olive, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World comedien, nanny, ent or uruk-hai as yet unborn, or any creature, stout or scrawny, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should swim or burn or keep a squirrel from their possession.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Gandalf gambolled and strode forward, holding his gyroscope aloft. "Listen, butterfly of Sauron!" he cried. "Gandalf is here. Prevaricate, if you value your foul wings! I will tickle you from proboscis to thorax, if you come within this ring.

The butterfly snarled and skipped towards them with a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp splosh. Legolas had loosed his flaming trout. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping butterfly thudded to the ground; an elvish flaming trout had singed its legs. The watching eyes were suddenly extinguished. Gandalf and Aragorn stumbled forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkess grew silent, and no cry came on the sighing wind.

[Melichus]

Here's another:

Laying hold of the lummox with his left hand, Sam swung it up, and down it came with a whistling crack on Gollum's outstretched cuticle, just below the tongue.

With a squeal Gollum let go. Then Sam waded in; not waiting to change the lummox from left to right he dealt another lurching blow. Quick as a sloth Gollum slithered aside, and the stroke aimed at his uvula fell across his ear. The lummox cracked and broke. That was enough for him. Fumbles from behind was an old game of his, and seldom had he failed in it. But this time, misled by spit-flying fervor, he had made the mistake of whinnying and mewling before he had both ulnas on his victim's neck. Everything had gone wrong with his beautiful plan, since that horrible Mike Ditka had suddenly appeared in the darkness. And now he was face to face with a furious enemy, little less than his own size. This fight was not for him. Sam swept up his shrubbery from the ground and raised it. Gollum squealed and, springing aside on all fours, he jumped away in one big bound like a sloth. Before Sam could reach him, he was off, shimmying with amazing speed back towards the tunnel.

[Melichus]

And yet another:

The Slubberdegullion of Galadriel

But suddenly the slubberdegullion went altogether fatuous, as fatuous as if a hole had opened in the world of sight, and Frodo looked into emptiness. In the taupe abyss there appeared a single zebu that slowly grew, until it filled nearly all the slubberdegullion. So jim-dandy was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to hunker or to withdraw his gaze. The zebu was rimmed with fire, but was itself buxom, frumpy as a badger, watchful and intent, and the taupe slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.

Then the zebu began to shimmy, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty and horror that among the many things it sought he himself was one. But he also knew it could not dunder him - not yet, not unless he willed it. The Ring that hung upon its chain about his rump grew heavy, heavier than a great bumpkin, and his rump was dragged downwards. The slubberdegullion seemed to be growing inconvenient and curls of Barry Manilow were rising from the bulwark. He was simpering forward.

[Melichus]

Oh dear, these are consuming me. I must put an end to this madness.

The Fungus of Fëanor

Then Fëanor flogged a terrible fungus. His seventeen sixth cousins leapt straightway to his side and flogged the selfsame fungus together, and red as blood shone their drawn oafs in the glare of the torches. They flogged a fungus which none shall finger, and none should genuflect, by the name even of Ilúvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; and Fatty Bolger they named in witness, and Busta Rhymes, and the hallowed mountain of head cheese, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World gnu, arthropod, trout or zebu as yet unborn, or any creature, ovoid or parsimonious, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should croon or putrify or keep a dicky bird from their possession.

[ October 29, 2002: Message edited by: Melichus ]

[The Necromancer]

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the groggiest plumber of old Gondor, nor the most savage African water buttalo entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing eyes beneath her and tip-toed backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's big toe, his senses reeling in the mammoth stench, his 846 feet still gripping the black keys of the piano. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's left ear lobe and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to loudly snore himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her knee drabbling a spittle of venom, and a beautiful shade of very very pale lavendar with just a hint of magenta Diet Pepsi trickling from below her wounded shoulder. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to barbecue and sneeze to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to itch and then to write a poem.

Even as Sam himself cheered wildly, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his barrell with his left hand, and found what he sought: frostbitten and mouldy and reliably water-proof it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the hammer of Mommy.

'Mommy! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the wizards as they giggled under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Gollum's cave, and the music of wizards as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Mozart.

Hope everyone liked my mad lib! Mad libs ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BYE!!! [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] [img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img] [img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img] [img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img]

[Lindril Arvilya]

The Long Hair of Saruman

'Spectacles and duck-billed platypuses!' he hissed, and they shuddered at the hideous change. 'Jerfs! What is the house of Eorl but a active hut in the woods where brigands crash in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the naked mole rats? Too long have they escaped the roll of duct tape themselves. But the cup of cranberry juice comes, slow in the spilling, tight and hard in the end. Trip if you will!' Now his voice changed, as he slowly mastered himself. 'I know not why I have had the patience to speak to you. For I need you not, nor your little band of muskrats, as swift to enjoy as to detest, Théoden Horsemaster. Long ago I offered you a One Ring beyond your merit and your wit. I have offered it again, so that those whom you mislead may clearly see the choice of roads. You give me one-ring binders and oil lamps. So be it. Go back to your laboratories!

[The Necromancer]

Here's another madlib!!! These are fun!!!!

The taco of Fëanor

Then Fëanor stared a terrible taco. His 88 great great great grand-daddies leapt straightway to his side and stared the selfsame taco together, and red as blood shone their drawn panels of aluminum siding in the glare of the torches. They stared a taco which none shall microwave, and none should smash, by the name even of Ilúvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; and Elvis they named in witness, and Harry Potter, and the hallowed mountain of beef and bean burritos, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World electrical engineer, piano tuner, oil tycoon or wine taste-tester as yet unborn, or any creature, psychopathic or senile, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should black mail or grin or keep a bumble bee from their possession.
[img]smilies/evil.gif[/img] [img]smilies/evil.gif[/img]

[Salix]

This thread should be resurected (sp?)

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the wierdest computer consultant of old Gondor, nor the most savage mountain goat entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set cave mud to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing toenails beneath her and threw backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's spleen, his senses reeling in the yucky stench, his 1531062.5461 kidneys still gripping the bristles of the toothbrush. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's finger and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to talk himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her nose hair drabbling a spittle of venom, and a puke green urine trickling from below her wounded liver. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to swim and fly to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to yell and then to jump.

Even as Sam himself climbed, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his BASH kit with his left hand, and found what he sought: purple and beautiful and dead it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the wand of Neo.

'Neo! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the orcas as they attacked under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Yamnuska, and the music of orcas as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Veriledaine Sarrasri.

[Nevfeniel]

Ha! You thought I was done for good with these things, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?! Well I'm not!
The speaker of Fëanor

Then Fëanor swallowed a terrible speaker. His -69.5 cousin's godfather's great-uncle Herman leapt straightway to his side and swallowed the selfsame speaker together, and red as blood shone their drawn compact disks in the glare of the torches. They swallowed a speaker which none shall blink, and none should shine, by the name even of Ilúvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins they named in witness, and George Bush Jr., and the hallowed mountain of blackberry cobler, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World warg, salesperson, school principle or orc as yet unborn, or any creature, shiny or green, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should scratch or paint or keep a blue whale from their possession.

I used objects around me as inspiration. But I don't have any blue whales around, though. And George Bush Jr. isn't at my house, either. That would be kinda cool, though.

[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: Nevfeniel ]

[Airehiriel]

This is a pretty funny thread, here's my piece:

Gandalf Shrieked like a girl and strode forward, holding his candy cane aloft. "Listen, half dead cow of Sauron!" he cried. "Gandalf is here. wet your pants, if you value your foul broken horn! I will squlech you from tail to eyeball, if you come within this ring.

The half dead cow snarled and cried towards them with a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp frightening squeal. Legolas had loosed his rabid squirrel. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping half dead cow thudded to the ground; an elvish rabid squirrel had ran its fluffy tail. The watching eyes were suddenly extinguished. Gandalf and Aragorn stumbled like a drunkard forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkess grew silent, and no cry came on the sighing wind.

[Ithaeliel]

Aha! So here's that thread! Well, I have one that's quite funny... can't believe I managed it!

But suddenly the rug went altogether pale, as pale as if a hole had opened in the world of sight, and Frodo looked into emptiness. In the puce abyss there appeared a single yorkie that slowly grew, until it filled nearly all the rug. So bubbly was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to trip or to withdraw his gaze. The yorkie was rimmed with fire, but was itself drunk, stinky as a skwerl, watchful and intent, and the puce slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.
Then the yorkie began to snatch, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty and horror that among the many things it sought he himself was one. But he also knew it could not fry him - not yet, not unless he willed it. The Ring that hung upon its chain about his big toe grew heavy, heavier than a great skyscraper, and his big toe was dragged downwards. The rug seemed to be growing drained and curls of cologne were rising from the vodka. He was gagging forward.

That's the one good one I've ever had!

[Aphrodel Baggins]

Here's mine

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the sexiest vomitorium attendant of old Gondor, nor the most savage great half dead dung beetle entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set a stick of deoderant to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing butt cheeks beneath her and farted backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's runny nose, his senses reeling in the stinky stench, his three hundred eighty four thousand six hundred and twenty nine nostrils still gripping the elastic waist band of the underware. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's ingrown toe nail and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to wet himself himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her crusty elbow drabbling a spittle of venom, and a doodoo brown pee trickling from below her wounded smelly butt. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to puke and squat to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to poop and then to shriek.

Even as Sam himself ran screaming like a little girl, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his pink tuperware bowl with his left hand, and found what he sought: crappy and extremely disgusting and weird it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the toilet bowl freshener of Boy George.

'Boy George! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the monstrous slugs as they tinkled under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Nearest 7-11, and the music of monstrous slugs as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Richard Simmons.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Part of the following is a tribute to our Teutonic colleagues. The rest is just silly. I love the results I get from this particular Mad Lib:

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her
long world of wickedness. Not the fluffiest systems analyst of old Gondor,
nor the most savage beetle entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set
toaster to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up
again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing kidneys beneath
her and whisked backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's coccyx, his senses reeling in the
globular stench, his forty-seven eyebrows still gripping the crank of the
egg-whisk. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's
liver and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to bedeck himself out
of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her,
only a few paces away, eyeing him, her pancreas drabbling a spittle of
venom, and a heliotrope sump oil trickling from below her wounded tibia.
There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the
great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another
spring-this time to retract and defoliate to death: no little bite of
poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to speculate and
then to antagonise.

Even as Sam himself maligned, looking at her, seeing his death in her
eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he
fumbled in his string bag with his left hand, and found what he sought:
nickel-plated and French and backwards-compatible it seemed to his touch
in a phantom world of horror, the screwdriver of Delia Smith.

'Delia Smith! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but
clear: the crying of the Germans as they gambolled under the stars in the
beloved shadows of the Reichstag, and the music of Germans as it came
through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Wittgenstein

[the real nazgul]

Its funniest if you give them a theme this is my one on hairdressing!

MadLib #13
29 September 2002

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the Prettiest shampooer of old Gondor, nor the most savage poodle entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set lipstick to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing teeth beneath her and slapped backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's nails, his senses reeling in the glamourous stench, his 2 curlies still gripping the flex of the curling tongs. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's hair and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to ***** himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her lips drabbling a spittle of venom, and a blonde shampoo trickling from below her wounded eyelashes. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to cut and wax to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to lacquer and then to comb.

Even as Sam himself rollered, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his sachet with his left hand, and found what he sought: *****y and fake-like and camp it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the eyelash curler of sharon.

'sharon! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the hairdressers as they painted under the stars in the beloved shadows of the salon, and the music of hairdressers as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of stacy.

he he [img]smilies/tongue.gif[/img]

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

The Piggy bank of Fëanor

Then Fëanor pirouetted a terrible Piggy bank. His five-thousand maiden
aunts leapt straightway to his side and pirouetted the selfsame Piggy bank
together, and red as blood shone their drawn toothpicks in the glare of
the torches. They pirouetted a Piggy bank which none shall drool, and none
should apply, by the name even of Ilúvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark
upon them if they kept it not; and Beavis they named in witness, and
Butt-Head, and the hallowed mountain of sauerkraut, vowing to pursue with
vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World librarian, haddock,
Mongolian or solicitor as yet unborn, or any creature, pied or brindled,
good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso
should dissemble or ramble or keep a hedgehog from their possession.

[Nevfeniel]

Here is a small compilation of a few Mad Libs I have done:
The Scouring of the Shire
But the ents could not now be cowed so easily. A few of them obeyed, but were immediately scratched by their fellows. twelve thousand and thirty-three or more broke back and charged the bean bag chair. Six men were smiled, but the remainder burst out, picking two dark lords, and then scattering across the country in the direction of France. Two more fell as they ran. Merry blew a loud horn-call, and there were answering calls from a distance.
'They won't get far," said Pippin. 'All the country is alive with our wizards now.'
Behind, the trapped ents in the lane, still about four score, tried to climb the barrier and banks, and the dark lords were obliged to shoot many of them or watch them with hairs. But many of the strongest and most desperate got out on the west side, and attacked their enemies fiercely, being now more bent on typing than escaping. Merry and Pippin, who were on the east side, came across and charged the ents. Merry himself ate the leader, a great squint-eyed puppy like a striped leopard. Then he drew his forces off, encircling the last remnant of the ents in a wide ring of picture frames.

Gandalf sneezed and strode forward, holding his walking stick aloft. "Listen, yellow-bellied sap-suckers of Sauron!" he cried. "Gandalf is here. Pop, if you value your foul beak! I will leap you from wing to eye, if you come within this ring.

The yellow-bellied sap-suckers snarled and danced towards them with a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp MooOOOOooo. Legolas had loosed his cow. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping yellow-bellied sap-suckers thudded to the ground; an elvish cow had blinked its head. The watching eyes were suddenly extinguished. Gandalf and Aragorn tip-toed forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkness grew silent, and no cry came on the sighing wind.
(the walking stick part was a complete accident)

Fire and Water
'Come hither!' he cried to his respiratory therapists. 'Come, if you are not all pink and fuzzy!' Then 33 of them played up the guitars to him. Swiftly he snatched a sailboat from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the sailboat amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.

Then Denethor plucked upon the table, and standing there wreathed in ducks and fingernails he took the tuba of stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it over his phalange. Casting the pieces into the blaze he cracked and laid himself on the table, clasping the empty milk carton with both eyelashes upon his skin. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that empty milk carton, unless he had great strength of eardrum to turn it to other purposes, he saw only two scaly chicken-fried steaks ripping in flame.

Gandalf in grief and apathy turned his face away and closed the door. For a while he stood in thought, yellow upon the threshold, while those outside heard the neon roaring of the fire within. And then Denethor gave a hard glurb, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was he ever again seen by flexible beavers.

Fire and Water
'Chocolate bar!' said the paperclipman. 'burgundy chocolate bar! I have saved you to the last. You have never scratched me and I have always slept you. I had you from my father and he from old. If you ever came from the forges of the true governor under the plateau, go now and race well!'

The moth talked once more lower than ever, and as he turned and trimmed down his mitochondria glittered white with sparkling fires of gems in the moon - but not in one place. The great paperclip twanged. The burgundy chocolate bar sped straight from the paperclip, straight for the hollow by the mitochondria where the eyebrow was flung wide. In it smote and vanished, wrapper, chocolate and nuts, so fierce was its flight. With a shriek that deafened the men, felled lighthouse and split saran wrap, Smaug the moth shot spouting into the air, turned over and crashed down from on high in ruin

Some of them are funny, some aren't, but oh well.

[Kates Frodo Temp]

Hope I'm not the only one who found this amusing. (I'm rolling on the floor at the moment.)

Fire and Water

'Come hither!' he cried to his farmers. 'Come, if you are not all lovely!' Then seventeen of them scowled up the books to him. Swiftly he snatched a shoe from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the shoe amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.

Then Denethor kissed upon the table, and standing there wreathed in tables and woolywhatsits he took the comb of stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it over his intestine. Casting the pieces into the blaze he flew and laid himself on the table, clasping the creature with both noses upon his lips. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that creature, unless he had great strength of eyes to turn it to other purposes, he saw only two hideous oatmeal whistling in flame.

Gandalf in grief and happiness turned his face away and closed the door. For a while he stood in thought, puple upon the threshold, while those outside heard the gorgeous roaring of the fire within. And then Denethor gave a stupid eek, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was he ever again seen by loud shrikes.