The Three-Worded-Story So Far

Well, I was curious what the story’d be if we put it all together… so uhh… here it is :stuck_out_tongue: :

Started 3-26-2003

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 compass, 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 it has pointy 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 Godzilla 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 interesting 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 exoskeleton, 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 by dropping some old heavy stone weight on the large round table before bouncing on a fuzzy dice hanging from the ceiling fan, which spun faster than the speed at which the robot could fly, almost like that eagle in that old movie on DVD, with the old guy who wouldn’t put down his cane as he picked up a rock lobster that he found alongside the old tractor which would not rust.

So he moved it towards the field of poppies, where the old farmer lay, planning out his world domination with those ladies who always stop at his farm and squash tomatoes to make that smelly skunk leave the basement, where it stank up the brand new salad, topped with delicious anchovies. And it cuts down on cholesterol, along with increasing vitamin C and metabolism. It’s dangerously effective against the spread of that disease which kills cows and sheep (in the barn) that graze on random pieces of robots left over from that odd competition that was held in Seattle, because nobody wanted to fight for a venue that had many advantages, including DDR, and a really large stage area that has an LCD and a big rat-infested kitchen.

Located next to the small opening was an odd, plastic piece of a crashed airplane that smelled like burnt drill motor. But it was only a FP, so we attempted to jump over to another team’s hut while it was drying in the moonlight. And I headed towards that hot pink Krispy Kreme store, where I bought green potatoes and blue chicken wings and I ate a large barrel filled with Pepsi mixed with Amp, but passed out right in front of the door of Dean Kamen’s house. And he invited the Archimedes division with his green ham and magenta earrings with sparkly gold circles that resembled the planets in formation of the FIRST logo… but he forgot who would be bringing the robot in a ginormous red crate that could turn into Sterlite boxes that were filled with sparkly shoes that the robot hated to wear while it glided down the ramp of sheet metal that had grease spread over its surface, which created a frying pan that killed the robot and sent sparks across the field onto the judges, who were just about to call their mommies in and cry their poor little selves into a deep ritual chant that made funny sounds while they danced the cha-cha, wearing brightly colored Hawaiian shirts from Team 25.

And Big Dave himself jumped into a swimming pool filled with gooey, yellow MOE sticks that really couldn’t clap, but they sounded so oddly funny, that even the people who used them couldn’t escape it. So they tried to run in circles while blowing large bubbles with gum, sticking out glorious and shimmering like the Little Mermaid, who became human after that horrible toxic waste spill, which made her have toad-like features, and they also have dog legs and cat whiskers which curl at 90 degree angles so that they go around corners so that they can eat a few of the extremely…

… Chapter II coming next year dun dun dun