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Rabrrrrrr

(58,347 posts)
Mon Apr 22, 2013, 08:28 PM Apr 2013

Match Game Story: Botulism Bill dropped a few pennies in the fountain and _____ a wish.

Rules of game: 1) the blank space gets ten or more words to make a story on any theme or in any genre, and 2) have fun!

Sorry it is a day late this week. I was busy eating pork last night.

Enjoy!

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Match Game Story: Botulism Bill dropped a few pennies in the fountain and _____ a wish. (Original Post) Rabrrrrrr Apr 2013 OP
Botulism Bill dropped a few pennies in the fountain and, Duer 157099 Apr 2013 #1
A wonderful story! Rabrrrrrr Apr 2013 #7
Let's do this thing. Dr. Strange Apr 2013 #2
Amazing... Sekhmets Daughter Apr 2013 #3
Philopolemical? Me? That is an outrage! Rabrrrrrr Apr 2013 #4
Oh yeah? Dr. Strange Apr 2013 #6
...infected... Aristus Apr 2013 #5

Duer 157099

(17,742 posts)
1. Botulism Bill dropped a few pennies in the fountain and,
Mon Apr 22, 2013, 08:58 PM
Apr 2013

having just had pork and beans for dinner last night, wondered once again whether his ultimate fate would involve Clostridium botulinum or if trichinosis would be the one to do him in. He often thought of this, which of course was how he got his nickname. One might even say he was obsessed with thoughts of his eventual demise and the manner in which it might come about. In any case, he was convinced that tainted food would somehow be his undoing. He had come to this fountain, as he did every day, to divest himself of his spare change and hopefully ensure that today would not be his last.

Much, much later that night, as Bill was getting ready for bed, he slipped on the bathroom floor and hit his head against the bathtub. As he was losing consciousness, he had a devastating realization, one that would be his last thought: today he had forgotten to make a wish.

Dr. Strange

(25,898 posts)
2. Let's do this thing.
Tue Apr 23, 2013, 01:42 PM
Apr 2013

Botulism Bill dropped a few pennies in the fountain and closed his eyes, conjuring up a wish for his 34th birthday. But his thoughts were interrupted by a rude munching.

He looked over at the patio where several diners were having lunch. And there, dressed in blue, was the rude muncher himself: Rapacious Rabrrrrrr! Chowing down on his pork, like he didn’t have a care in the world. As if it was more important to consume this flesh, as opposed to putting together the weekly Match Game.

Rabrrrrr the Rapacious glanced at Bill and smiled. Bill started to growl, but then his agastopia took over. Bill had an insane affinity for mouths. And Rabrrrrrr had a mouth that was consummate in all its mouthiness.

Bill looked away, trying not to get drawn in to Rabrrrrrr’s maw. But he kept the rapacious one in his peripheral vision. No way was he going to allow Rabrrrrrr to slip away.

A few minutes later, Rabrrrrrr got up from his table, leaving a tittynope of pork on his otherwise clean plate, and pursued the “man with many r’s”. He couldn’t explain his fascination with Rabrrrrrr, but whenever Bill talked about it with his sister, she would just shake her head, calling him a single-minded nihilarian. Not that he cared what she said. Most people had trouble dealing with Bill’s aristophrenia. Why should his family be any different?

From two hundred yards away, Bill began apostrophizing; “Just where do you think you’re going, Mr. Rabrrrrrr? What secrets do you keep?”

Suddenly Rabrrrrrr slipped into a club named “The Passion and the Furry!” Bill followed, sitting near enough to watch his quarry, but far enough away not to be noticed.

“Would you like a drink?” a waitress asked. Bill looked at his server. She was a buxom beauty, wearing a silver brassiere, a black thong, and a short black sheer skirt. Her face may or may not have been attractive; he couldn’t tell, because she was wearing a cat mask. God damn furries! he thought. He was no antithalian, but people trying to be animals trying to be sexy just weirded him out.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” he replied, like the dangwallet that he was.

She meowed and left. Bill watched her ass as she walked away. She appeared to have some fur on her posterior. Bill was perplexed by the callipygian dasypygal.

As Bill went back to watching the atrabilious Rabrrrrrr, he was shocked when his prey got out of his seat, climbed onto the stage, and started performing for the sparse crowd.

He started into a comedy routine, occasionally removing an item of his icterical clothing. Bill’s face flushed a deep red. I’ve got to get out of here!

He started to get up, but that only drew attention to himself. Rabrrrrrr started to walk over. Knowing Rabrrrrrr’s philopolemical nature, Bill started to panic. He wanted to leave, but he was frozen in his velleity.

Rabrrrrrr stood over the Botulistic one, inhaled, and spoke: “Enough of your sesquipedalian ways!”

The crowd erupted with cheers and various animal sounds. Bill started crying and finally found the strength to flee.

That night, as he cried himself to sleep, Bill realized that he really did have a tendency to use big fucking weirdass words. He decided from that point on to only use abbreviations and acronyms.

And he decided that his decision was better than meeting a sexy genie and being granted a wish.

Dr. Strange

(25,898 posts)
6. Oh yeah?
Tue Apr 23, 2013, 03:36 PM
Apr 2013

Why, I have three-quarters of a mind to go right out and look up just what the hell those words mean!

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