These are some Mad Libs completed by Matthew and his brother-in-law, Jason, and cousin, Justin. Thanks for the laughs!
When, in my youth, I saw elderly people walking down the street, it seemed to me that they were always moving so much slower than I was. Why were they so brown all the time? I was spry and glittery, kicking around, this way and that. Now that I am older, however, I notice that the elderly do not sleep quite so quickly as I used to imagine. When I play rugby, it seems to me that the bats are often swimming drunkingly.
To tie it all together – don’t eat boxes, or drink nitroglycerin.
Why are people so angry all the time? Instead of being gleeful, they actually enjoy life! As for me, I like to float in my room and bark. This is because I failed my last tree-test. After such an event, in real life, I just seem so frightened, furious, and flippant. The only thing that really, truly helps me is thinking that the feet bring me despair – much despair. To end it all, I say eat socks – they bring endorphins.
Every night when the butcher knives come out to leap, the sky turns ghastly. That is, until the purple (with smiley polka-dots) penguins come along and stab the sharks. Then, everything changes and the fluorescent light bulb becomes sleek. When this happens, the trees explode and the owls eat sheep. Therefore, the moral of the story is: Chop your chew toys until you can’t snap bulldozers anymore.
Whose shotguns these are I think I know
His chainsaw is in the classroom though
He will not see me slicing here
To watch his shotguns fill up with snow
My little deer must thing it queer
To stop without a bazooka near
Between the shotguns and bloody lake
The bloodiest evening of the year
He gives his harness snails a shake
To dissect if there is some mistake
The only other sound’s the sheep
Of darkest wind and decaying flake
The shotguns are gloomy, discouraging, and deep
But I have zombies to keep
And yards to go before I seep
And yards to go before I seep
Once upon a time/dolphin, two girls and a very fat boy fell into a maroon sledge-hammer. Fortunately, the fat boy was bouncy enough for the two girls to jump on him, up and out of the sledge-hammer – spanghew-like.
They plastered for help, got it, returned, and, with a giant phone, pulled the fat boy out. However, he had lost 23 pounds by the time he was pulled out because it had been so long – he was no longer fat, but bouncy, flamboyant, and black.
For supper, they ate artichoke-hearts, and he became fat again. The end.
