Sadly, we need to spin the three word story claim off into another.

How about adapting the rules so that eveyone writes FIVE words ?

(Ahem)

T'was a misty eve in

Blotchley-cum-Scutum, the town I loved

[Recap:

It was a dark day when suddenly there was the magnificent prune, so purple and glowing with pruniness, looking so sexy that it was

hard to resist taking a sniff of newly found prune juice. Alas, it's pruniness overcame its sexiness. Luckily, there was a Prune

Prince to make love to a peasant, because everyone knows peasants adore the smell of prune juice. Prunes are so lovely that the

zombies even love to eat them, constipated or not, because brains are quite tasty when soaked in spicy Thai curry sauce, but nuns

won't eat them raw before bed, as regularity so brutal finally sets in. Suddenly in jest (but not ingested) he whips out Maalox! The

fiber was not strong enough to break through the impacted Prince's sense of humor. Poor plonker didn't know that being plugged up

would make him so aroused. Reluctantly [he] tucked in his shirt and then walked up to a billboard which showed his third wife in

profile. "Oh, the lament," he mused as another creature nearby watched him carefully. Needless to say, he had plans to embellish her

with his sharpie, which had been taken from him by a viscious, almost hamster-like, bucktoothed man. Regretfully, it was immediately

apparent to him that those who sought to replace him were about as competent as a five-toothed prune on a three day bender.

Meanwhile, the Albanian could not seem to comprehend such silly things. Ergo, [he] boarded a train only to find he'd forgotten his

white cape; alas he was so disheveled that he was forcefully ejected through the roof only to land unconscious, floating in a pool

of rancid prune juice. "No wait, blood!" he thought, sniffing his way towards the local pub and brothel. When he remembered to pull

out his enormous wad of mucous he thought would free his nose from its blood/prune confusion. But then Jesus, leaving the brothel,

stumbled over a dead carcass. Alas, it was his orange and hairy mat of stinking clown scalp, which he promptly returned to the

moneylenders so they could revenge on the evil, thieving, lying, turnip-scented monks and their complicated, troubled leader. Prince

What's-His-Name spontaneously combusted vertically above the unfortuneate fields of prune and blood confusion. Forsooth, it was

quite apparent that His Highness had already been with His secret lover who preferred bananas over old meatloaf. But who cares,

"Hemorrhoids are fun!" That said, nothing could compare to the monopolistic overtones of the Prince's walkman from the dolcet tones

of Dolcett's pen. Cannibalism was beginning to seem like the way to eviscerate the embedded prune pit which had various signs of bad

preservation. Even though the hooded druids correctly evaluated the spiral shape of every little thing inside their ears, they

suddenly died and came back three days later, before deciding to erect large stone temples in honor of the magnificant Mr. Fancy

Pants, who was amazing in bed, but had a small nose, which often diminished his ability to forgive poor people their sins. Apart

from that, nobody could opine him an unworthy race car driver to fly him high atop his fortress of solitude, despite the growing

clouds in the West. The elements, unforgiving, beat down upon a moldy sandwich, causing it to veer directly toward a compost heap,

half-devoured by vegetarian velociraptors. Wearing loincloths, the sea people attempted their famous underwater disco luau whilst

beginning to sing in a vomit-inducing falsetto. Luckily, something magnicificent happened and they stopped. Yet, drawing nigh, he

sensed a murderous hermaphrodite approaching. "I didn't burp," protested the arrogant yet somewhat snobbish sockpuppet, meanwhile

its noodly appendages were oozing with sauce. The hermaphrodite leapt at the sockpuppet and in that single bound, it imploded like a cake in a malfunctional bioreactor that created such a sexy explosion it nearly caused a neighbour to go completely, certifiably insane explaining his violent , but graceful, behavior to a level.

hitherto unsurpassed. "Egads!" There it was , undeniably the most difficult to understand series of events that had ever been seen or submitted to scrutination in recent times.

"Hark!" He cried to the nearby particularly orange toned African-American stereotype, who subsequently whipped out a fried chicken and resisted temptation by answering thusly: "I ain't no goddamned son of, better think about 'Hark' nonsense is straight up FLAAAAAAAAAAAVOR so get with the times, man!" or go home.

The prince, rebuked, to the red station wagon, and immediately called shotgun, but no driver could be found. So he did something quite unthinkable -- you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Meanwhile, I won't tell.

From across the not one but All five were of a little with the prince of peace whose station wagon had a handful of helpful DOS manuals, and just one along with the absolutely incredible piece, ball of tiny purple fishing lures. "Alas," he chortled, "now feel the full power of my above average miniature golf game" With that, he door and dragged the five aligators.

Unfortunately, the seatbelts began to scream in a strange seatbelt like fashion: "Oh my god!". So in accordance with the standard seatbelt calming protocol the Prince grabbed the crimson shurikens, balancing them perfectly atop his immensehoneypot. Shaking, he threw a wrapped (or mostly wrapped) submarine sandwich at Samuel L. Jackson , out of nowhere, grabbed an electric toothbrush, and with it, stimulated the teeth and gums decay and loss. Unfortunately for him, their teeth were large enough to decapitate squirrel fetuses -alloy robo-squirrels. Alas, the only way to prevent with headless squirrel stew. Not only could the Prince be the only one to eat that amount of flame retardant, but enjoyed the piece of crap meal take-out menu and fast food joint sometimes. So pick up your trousers, Prince, and tell nobody why violet in hue precipitation of water with tales of just exactly how prunes first originated.

The Prince spoke, and none understood why his salty way with wiords and his peppery had such a succulent hairy baboon.

This was really entertaining until Rael came and then went, then came again and he collapsed from the stress. Suddenly, a nice ripe, peachy maiden forgot her head, gave it away, she asked to have a pet; exotic, save, loyal to the Queen and her manservant is born mutant ninja turtle; sodomite, peculiar, artistic, with a big idea about developing an awesome shell script with twiddly midget's fingers picking merle travi's nasal passages quite accurately until they fell into Gnarls Barkley's green corduroy pants. Picking up the many pieces of people's broken hearts then throwing them into the pastries, the rodents started baking.

He then left, then she turned the oven, took a kitten, unscrewed its head, popped in the appleflap pieces, shouting: "Holy oliebol" at the headless kitten with a head.

Rolies claim was rolling down the rollercoaster on rollerblades when Action man started shooting at jamjars on the universe's front lawn, several mute angels were speechless, lifting rocks heavier than universe's lawn gnomes with green ears, and throwing them into the pastries with razor blades.

She the ate the razor blades and the pastries running wild by the sheer willpower of her nasal cavity, spoke in a nasal pitch: "I prophesy that the stock market will turn into Godzilla or Ghidorah."

After hearing this, they got naked, started to sing pagan symphonies to the Great Platypus.

"Kitten's ready" said the high priest, some Jyters approach, eating brains of those kittens, yet were highly stressed but needed some money to pay the clerk for his clerky services, but they refused because yesterday afternoon the Jyte Elite rendered it's untimely course of action to cease it's collision with the free will hypothesis of the Greeks.

"Sue me" said the flamboyant kitten Sue, "Unidentified fruit flies with non-wings. They abduct teenagers and place them underneath poisoned sunsets and force them to jump up over the pile of hairless poodles.

Unfortunately, a bird laid eggs in Mr. DeWe's hat wich he threw over dacing people to fertilise their spirits by esoteric means, including jackrabbit, the most discombobulated spano-mexican/english dictionary slim's rollercoasting parade, with Rael chooses.

T'was a misty eve in Blotchley-cum-Scutum, the town I loved ]

. Stellar cryptic figurines of green

blasted whole nut fudge into

causing erotic mayhem a'plenty. Seventeen

and effeminate interior designers. "WHOA!!!"

Once, while performing a tractor

(switch order of Rael's and my comments)

(ok scratch mine)

miles past the last junction

where blue venusian women screwed

building portals into the next

{aarg. scrub mine]

screwing blue veunsian womenfolk, giggling

"Ultimate actions are required to"

[strike my last one]

dangerously giant midget with

several

problems refreshing the story claim

so he decided to change

causing an immense controversy for

over 16535 seconds, after which

a series of consequential events

burst in wearing arse ripped

pants, "You! Put down that

unusual chinchilla fetus of my

lazy, forgotten, half-dead mule.

it belonged to my ugly

cross dress sister" So everyone

decided to mince like Fred

dance a little jig for

Bam-Bam, Peebles, Dino and Gazoo.

old time's sake down the

streets where people beat people

into a pulp with sausage

or slice them with my

brand new chainsaw that I

a massive beached sperm whale.

everything we didn't really need

and ended up torching the

Olympic protesters, lovingly bludgeoning their

Tibetan ancestor's holy temple of

Kleenex Tektonica. Well, that was

five brave explorers named: meta,

Kev, Anna, Sylwia and Torsten

were preparing for an dangerous

journey through the country of

Messupotamia; cloths and buckets by

the river were lost when

Heston decreed that the Red

everyone except Sylwia because she

strike to every bird dinosaour,

Oink was a silly pig,

with silly clothes and a

silly hat, who never ate

pork, for obvious reasons. Instead,

Oink eat unfashionable human drivers

betwixt some silly bread.

Sometimes, though not very often,

he cycled in his lorry

jolly on Bolly with Holly/Molly

and jyted lots of gibberish.

how rabbits and fu were

really just the derivative of

and green cows. Sadly the

be closed in favor of

people started commenting on the

which appeared in the middle

into a giant oak tree

A dodo with the name

berry bush eating all the

Unfortunately, Beckhen was sick with

to the bird-doctor named Dr.

by the giant fists of

ate the poor Mrs. Beckhen,

Bird, James Bird (shaken not

who thought the vomit was

the T-rex (whose name was

but Bobo wasn't big enough

So the 4real simply picked

[disregard that:]
So 4real simply picked up

dog Bobo into the tornado

[I didn't ever think putting in the word 'the' would be so much trouble, you have my sincerest apologies]