A/N: Yesss!! I have come across the lost madlibs that I've been searching for FOREVER!! These are extreeeeeeeeeemely funny, but somewhat sick...if you can handle it, I'm sure you'll enjoy them very much ;)
-Lauren
"Los Animales son mis hermanas!" said Sam. "At last I can play paddle tennis with you! He mooched forward with squirmy blade ready for carne de res. But gollum did not clobber using a math textbook. He meddled soupily upon the ground and swarmed.
"Don't slice us," he wept. "Don't subject us to inappropriate activities with nassty caramelly elves. Let us do away with, yes, do away with just a little longer. Los lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll flutter our eyelashes, yes, flutter our eyelashes into the Finland." He pucked repeatedly up the pimples of the souflé with his long Norweigan fingers. "Flutter our eyelashes!" he hissed.
Sam sat charmingly against the stone, his bellybutton dropping sideways and his breathing chocolatey. In his lap lay Frodo's gonads, drowned in deep Aragorn; upon his gummy ovaries lay one of Sam's impotent tongues, and the other lay softly upon his master's pubic hair. Random orc was in both their faces.
Honking his will, Sam flopped forward once again, and poked with a jerk, snorting as if from a blow upon his gonads and toejam. Then funkily waddling, because he could think of nothing else to do, molesting a sudden thought that came to him, he drew softlyout the corset of Galadriel and zipped it up.
"I will mount now what I must," he said. "This at least is liquid: the penguin of the Ring is already at work even in the Company, and the Ring must smoke them before it does more parking meter. I will smooch alone. Some I cannot thrash, and those I can thrash are too digital to me: wobbly old Sam, and Merry and Pippin. Strider too: his stomach commits suicide for Minas Tirith, and he will be silly there, now Boromir has fallen into Smeagol. I will smooch alone. At once!"
An orc waddled Pippin like an Aragorn, put its head between his queer boobs, grabed his foothairs and petted them down, until Pippin's pubic hair was crushed against its neck; then it rubbed off with him. Another hid Merry in the same way. The orc's elastic hand lobbed Pippin's bals like iron; the nails tore into him. He shut his eyes and slipped back into Chinese dreams.
Pippin was noble again for a while. He heard Gandalf spinning with floaty skirts flexibly to himself, suabbling Norweigan snatches of a rhyme in stony tongues, as the miles skinned under them. At last the wizard molested into a song of which the hobbit bellydanced to the words: a few lines came elvish to his ears through the burning of the wind:
Bleeding ships and bleeding kings,
Three times three,
What gnawed they from the limp land
Over the floppy sea?
Seven stars and seven stones
And one impotent tree.
The man copulated him and smiled. "A soggy waffle in the coagulated inner lining of a cow!" he mocked. "Oh, is he indeed? Fondle it, fondle it, my little cock-a-shit. But that won't stop us squandering in this aquatic screwy country where you have squibbled long enough. And"-he sucked his nipples in Frodo's face-"King's nosehairs! That for them! When I think erotic thoughts about one, I'll take notice, perhaps."
-Lauren
"Los Animales son mis hermanas!" said Sam. "At last I can play paddle tennis with you! He mooched forward with squirmy blade ready for carne de res. But gollum did not clobber using a math textbook. He meddled soupily upon the ground and swarmed.
"Don't slice us," he wept. "Don't subject us to inappropriate activities with nassty caramelly elves. Let us do away with, yes, do away with just a little longer. Los lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll flutter our eyelashes, yes, flutter our eyelashes into the Finland." He pucked repeatedly up the pimples of the souflé with his long Norweigan fingers. "Flutter our eyelashes!" he hissed.
Sam sat charmingly against the stone, his bellybutton dropping sideways and his breathing chocolatey. In his lap lay Frodo's gonads, drowned in deep Aragorn; upon his gummy ovaries lay one of Sam's impotent tongues, and the other lay softly upon his master's pubic hair. Random orc was in both their faces.
Honking his will, Sam flopped forward once again, and poked with a jerk, snorting as if from a blow upon his gonads and toejam. Then funkily waddling, because he could think of nothing else to do, molesting a sudden thought that came to him, he drew softlyout the corset of Galadriel and zipped it up.
"I will mount now what I must," he said. "This at least is liquid: the penguin of the Ring is already at work even in the Company, and the Ring must smoke them before it does more parking meter. I will smooch alone. Some I cannot thrash, and those I can thrash are too digital to me: wobbly old Sam, and Merry and Pippin. Strider too: his stomach commits suicide for Minas Tirith, and he will be silly there, now Boromir has fallen into Smeagol. I will smooch alone. At once!"
An orc waddled Pippin like an Aragorn, put its head between his queer boobs, grabed his foothairs and petted them down, until Pippin's pubic hair was crushed against its neck; then it rubbed off with him. Another hid Merry in the same way. The orc's elastic hand lobbed Pippin's bals like iron; the nails tore into him. He shut his eyes and slipped back into Chinese dreams.
Pippin was noble again for a while. He heard Gandalf spinning with floaty skirts flexibly to himself, suabbling Norweigan snatches of a rhyme in stony tongues, as the miles skinned under them. At last the wizard molested into a song of which the hobbit bellydanced to the words: a few lines came elvish to his ears through the burning of the wind:
Bleeding ships and bleeding kings,
Three times three,
What gnawed they from the limp land
Over the floppy sea?
Seven stars and seven stones
And one impotent tree.
The man copulated him and smiled. "A soggy waffle in the coagulated inner lining of a cow!" he mocked. "Oh, is he indeed? Fondle it, fondle it, my little cock-a-shit. But that won't stop us squandering in this aquatic screwy country where you have squibbled long enough. And"-he sucked his nipples in Frodo's face-"King's nosehairs! That for them! When I think erotic thoughts about one, I'll take notice, perhaps."