Remember Mad Libs? Why did we think those were so great? They were the most unimaginative, generic, fill-in-the-blank stories ever. Oh wait, now I remember: because when I was doing Mad Libs (around age eight) with my brother, they would all turn out something like this:
Two peniswrinkles, both alike in dignity,
In fair Poop Factory, where we lay our scene,
From ancient peniswrinkle break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross`d buttmonkeys take their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their assgoblin bury their parents` strife.
The fearful passage of their gay love,
And the continuance of their parents` rage,
Which, but their children`s end, nought could fart,
Is now the eleventy-billion hours` traffic of our stage;
The which if you with stinky peniswrinkle attend,
What here shall poop, our toil shall strive to mend.
Hah! Now I remember why they’re so great. That shit is hilarious. We would spend every spare minute in the car giggling uncontrollably at the words “peniswrinkle,” “gaylord,” and “buttmonkey.” And I have to say, not much has changed.
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