Re: Contest: Return of the Mystery Word Comic Fun (Score: 2)
posted Tuesday, October 17, 2006 - 07:22 PM (
#35953)
In Response to Deathalicious (#35951):
All right, all right.
Enough with the guilt trip.
Hey!
It's WINNER TIME!
Yay!
First off, the comic in question was...
Chaos Pope (9 of 16).
Themysticalone’s winning entry is
Grand Poobah Billingsworth
Themysticalone - contact me by email to claim your prize.
The rest of the entries, after adjusting for grammar and etc. where possible, are:
Teledildonix
Bob (as Arch-Pope): This manipulates. Now we'll never get to have Panjandrum Of Pomposity-approved sweaty gay senior sex.
Neil (as Arch-Pope): How could the Panjandrum Of Pomposity ululate us like this?
Bob (as Arch-Pope): Perhaps an punctilious external pizza has gotten a bit irresistibly delectable to the chaos senior
Neil (as Arch-Pope): Musta been the bong-hits. They've got their gallons of polymerized veterinary lubricant in the prong these days.
Bob (as Arch-Pope): Professor Frink again, eh? But why?
Neil (as Arch-Pope): Having the crack of dawn of their own to slurp them, the bong-hits crave the orgiastic frenzy of celebration of Phillip's press of a button god.
Rich
Bob (as Arch-Pope): This answers. Now we'll never get to have Frosty the Snowman-approved sweaty gay glass sex.
Neil (as Arch-Pope): How could the Frosty the Snowman squeeze us like this?
Bob (as Arch-Pope): Perhaps an translucent external razor blade has gotten a bit crisply fried to the chaos glass
Neil (as Arch-Pope): Musta been the light emitting diodes. They've got their bound and gagged sex slaves in tuning fork these days.
Bob (as Arch-Pope): Kari Byron again, eh? But why?
Neil (as Arch-Pope): Having the bottle of anti-bacterial soap of their own to erase them, the light emitting diodes crave the asteriod hurtling towards the Earth of Phillip's women of the Weather Channel god.
PugDog
Bob (as Arch-Pope): This expurgates. Now we'll never get to have Pope Benedict XVI-approved sweaty gay oak sex.
Neil (as Arch-Pope): How could the Pope Benedict XVI animate us like this?
Bob (as Arch-Pope): Perhaps an chiseled external picnic table has gotten a bit steamily suggestive to the chaos oak
Neil (as Arch-Pope): Musta been the actuaries. They've got their History of Manned Space Flight in escargot these days.
Bob (as Arch-Pope): Herbert Hoover again, eh? But why?
Neil (as Arch-Pope): Having Shrimp of Mythic Proportions of their own to skulk them, the actuaries crave the broad-chested and smiling farrier of Phillip's Stinky Cheese god.
Paul1963
Bob (as Arch-Pope): This caressing. Now we'll never get to have Baron Heinrich von Weaselnutten-approved sweaty gay Cheneyesque sex.
Neil (as Arch-Pope): How could the Baron Heinrich von Weaselnutten hollow-out us like this?
Bob (as Arch-Pope): Perhaps an magnificent external wrecking ball has gotten a bit astonishingly thick to the chaos Cheneyesque
Neil (as Arch-Pope): Musta been the shielding. They've got their pile of crap in teleporters these days.
Bob (as Arch-Pope): Dieter again, eh? But why?
Neil (as Arch-Pope): Having colossal screwups of their own to fondle them, the shielding crave the technophilic luddite (I know it's a contradiction--roll with it) of Phillip's friendly paranoiac (see above) god.
AsphaltBuffet
Bob (as Arch-Pope): This jimmies. Now we'll never get to have Herr Snaggletooth-approved sweaty gay power sex.
Neil (as Arch-Pope): How could the Herr Snaggletooth slow-churn us like this?
Bob (as Arch-Pope): Perhaps an scattered external ikea has gotten a bit surprisingly depressed to the chaos power
Neil (as Arch-Pope): Musta been the cabbages. They've got their anatomically correct motivational poster development team in love-nook these days.
Bob...
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