A man stepped out onto his porch, watching a naked Korean man golf with Al Gore while dancing on a pogo stick. The man took a progressive leap to the dinner table and broke his enormous pen shaped plastic instrument, and Gore screamed out, "BP's fault." Unaware of the bear eating from the riser-pipe while talking stock prices; Gore then immediately engaged in crying for five years. Once he calmed down, there was a soothing roar from the bear, he roared, "Pineapples suck" to which the Korean committed Hara-kiri but failed, instead wounding Al Gore's young niece. So he pulled an anvil out, strapping it on.
Suddenly Steven Hawking stood up and proclaimed, "This is the end of class. But not for long!" Then he wormhole teleported them to Russel Crowe's liquor cabinet, located near Tom Fulp's summer home where he likes to sodomize penicorns. Then they electrocuted the penguin of moral destruction because they were busy screwing a bolt into a robot giraffe's rusty periscope and eating minty biscuits while singing, "America, Fuck The Llama!" Regardless, the president was banning all of the llamas to Disneyland, where Donald Duck was watching systematic genocide, pleasing many lesbian zombies that weren't frosted butts.
Al Gore, weighed down, let the Korean stick a curtain up his neighbor's lamp shade. Suddenly, a gigantic teacup crashed onto Tom's home and a massive Spanish retard! The shards ripped a hole into China. A Chinese astrology junkie strapped on his suspenders and waltzed 500 sheep into a gigantic apple that had done Al a huge favor by spraying saliva down his urethra. The trouble was that 2 cute kittens had been puking rainbows. Hippies descended from rainbows to bring him sexy fish and shallow lemons. Al refused to make impregnated gnomes beg for kinky sex. He instead gave it chlamydia and a sticky bun of extreme pleasure. Meanwhile, at Batman's house... Batman raped Al Gore's niece as Bangkok relocated into Robin's smelly underpants.
Due to unforeseen consequences all of City 17 residents' streetlights massively exploded and killed seven Mongols. Gordon Freeman masturbated furiously with sandpaper, unaware of his dicklessness effecting the entire human being over at Walmart's marijuana parade. So large, yet so insignificant was the marijuana's sea level. Gordon came on Alyx's sweaty and surprisingly swollen clitoris. "Fuck!" Exclaimed Gordon, because preggers stole his bike. So, Say Bike, the Indian chopper rider named Rig. Yet, nothing had happened. Naming Rig Fella Tio wasn't his telephone's breakdown but stabbing Chris Hansen pleased predators. Pedophiles rejoiced as Gary Brolsma randomly stopped typing love letters to his man-bitch called Steve.
"Who farted?", monotoned Mr. Moseby, as scriptures revealed the startling drop-bear plans tried to kill the foreigners doing absolutely nothing. "WHY MUST