Make a sentence you're pretty sure no-one's said before!

[ER]

"Shalom, welcome to Walmart."

[retrorussell]

Surreptitious lobsters spanked me with a waffle iron, then disappeared into the cheesy darkness forever.

[ER]

The leaves are a metaphor for existence itself: some fall from the branches early and young, others in middle-age, most late in the year, a few hang on long past when others around them are gone, but in the end all depart to make way for new generations.

[retrorussell]

It's fun to spackle your house with poop.

[retrorussell]

My erection has not subsided in 14 years.

[ER]

They get PS4 a day early in Heaven; they get XBOX One a month early in Hell.

[ER]

We thought Emily Dickinson having a bad hair day was haunting the fourth floor restroom cleaning the mirrors with semicircular motions her toothbrush, but turns out it was just a lesbian from the sociology department sporting a fluctuating case of multiple personality disorder brought on by bad tuna pot pie.

[retrorussell]

I wanted to ask my flowerpot-wearing pet orangutan Fartface if he needed a ride to the Edsel fan club convention, but he just inflated his butt cheeks, sneered at me and spasmodically wobbled down the corridor and out of my life forever.

[indianasmith]

My hovercraft may never be filled with eels, but it sports a mean goatee!

[Leah]

The zombie eels are raping trees full of dead nuclear waste from Neptune.

[ER]

If you ever have coitus with Mother Nature, be sure to call her the next day or she might send a tornado to your house.

[retrorussell]

Dig that crazy hemophiliac composaurus; he likes dancing the Charleston during heart surgeries while setting Cheetos on fire and starting political debates at random with nuns and clergymen!

[ER]

If misery had a flavor it would mirror the soda-bread-made-from-ashes taste which defeat had sired on the tongue of the shackled runaway with hair draping over her teenaged eyes in the cold back seat of a county police car that smelled of anguish-sweat and white box cigarettes smoked on the sly.

[retrorussell]

Don't take this personally, but I've seen your lymph nodes do an impersonation of a headless Bob Costas doing play-by-play for a Diptheria Blazers vs. Tracheotomy Pistons game, and I was not impressed.

[ER]

Downwind from Auschwitz rabbits played amid the tall, swaying grass, having learned to ignore the acrid smoke that punctured nights sternly broken by high-powered spotlights that kept the space between the pressboard cabins awash with the unending presence of an artificial high noon.