Chief Delphi - Three Worded Story

this is the story from pages 1-10 i got bored so someone will have to compile the rest. seriously people im going to start a thread where we can discuss our collective psychological trauma. i bet i could charge psychologists admitance and make a fortune. :D

Once at Robotics there was a broken robot and a large mill three machinists, and an annoying little poodle running around in circles because it didn't know where to go so it ran all the way to Connecticut for some really old bacon bomber sandwiches that it found in a box with GizMOE and old peanut butter a compas, map and a peanut curious, the dog which happened to also notice nearby wagged his tail while happily drooling all over sawdust which was now collecting on his spatula. He blinked and looked at his beautiful robot He named the robot "Spike" because it shook and little things that hurt when you get near the razor prongs that split when they touch humans and baby African cheesewheels that roll on the white line but always seem to stray towards Atlanta for the FIRST event held at the large Georgiadome there. However, no one knew many people believe that gozilla will END THIS STORY! Unless he doesn't which of course is why I'm going to bring my old laptop to the competition and let others eat raw fish or something more disgusting, such as eggs and chicken which are green inside but blue on the inside and are filled with some nasty jelly filling that tastes just like cough medicine and moxie and throw-up which, oddly enough, is enough reason to leave for the airport to go visit a relative that might suddenly become very deadly interested in building robots to make up three alliances to compete in a different world, using only speaker wire and large pieces of brown hair from places where the people turn into large purple grass And scarily enough ....they also are... building a weird robot that could assemble other robots with its hard excoskeleton, which was... built to do random jobs like slicing pizza and... molding metal into mini mighty mice who then become some fuzzy little purple paper bag that will eat hairy swedish fish while drinking hairy monkey fruit juice from strange little polka dot tulips growing in the dead robot that drinks mint juleps as its owner walks around in shoes that are old, slimy, and blue with red stripes and a pink bow on his arm. Still, he looked very spiffy and slightly feminine. He stepped onto a big pile of bolts volts and colts that were left on the tile of the floor leading to the kitchen, where the scattered robot parts lay in a scattered heap along the tie-dye colored tiles, that have a crack in one from dropping some old heavy stone weight on the large round table before bouncing on a fuzzy dice hanging from