Welcome to Amalot's Typewriter Collection! This is a collection of stories that were written on a typewriter (DUH) Why, you ask? Well, like I said before, these were written by highschoolers (Heh, we all know who, RIGHT???), and they were, of course, attempting to avoid studying, or doing anything productive, because we all know that high schoolers absolutely HATE doing anything productive! (Ahh, memories...)
So, without further ado, the craziness that is the typewriter collection of the Amalot stories ...
Lol. So then she says, it felt like an army of sperm in her vagina. Lol. I was like, what? She was a slave for me, dude. It felt nice. Dude, I did that once. With a pie. It hurt. Oh, did I say pie? I meant pig. It was a bab look-alike. Damn, that blows my mind. And my penis. Yes, I’m slow. I just got it, damn you. Shut up you dirty whore. I want you. In my bed. Now. Here. On the phone. Let’s have phone sex. You mean sex with a phone? That sounds great. You begin. No you. No you! Hold on, there’s another line. There’s always another line with you. Hold on. No, I don’t want any Viagra. It doesn’t taste good. What do you mean it’s not edible, to eat? I guess I’ll talk to you later then goodbye. Ok, back, dude. Dude, that was weird. What can I say? You-know-what, in the you-know-where. Lol. You know? Oh, I know. I know all too well, gigolo joe. Ho ho ho. It’s santy claws! I gotta go, my mom is calling me. And she needs help putting on her socks.
Hello, there!
Shit, I pulled a muscle. Do not act like you don’t believe me. I need leeches. Lots of them. What can I say? I’m hungry. My story begins with the letter XXX. And a lack of Viagra. Once upon a time, this guy was walking. And he had some shoes on. They were really nice. But that’s not relevant. He went to the store to buy some Viagra. However, there was a Viagra short-age in effect. That sucked. And swallowed. He goes up to the clerk, right? And what does he do? You tell me. Was I there!?!?
THE END
Is that about right? Is that even? Ok, good. I’m ready to begin.
This is a slave world. Sunflower fantasis don’t exist here, Mr. Mackey. So don’t bother asking. Anywho, that guy was really big … yet small. If you know what I mean. He lasted all night long. He’s good at hangman, apparently, but not strip hangman. He was really great in bed. * shrugs * or maybe not. What can I say. Poop, that’s what. (cents) 60 is what I have in my wallet. So there’s this ancient legend about this guy. I don’t remember who? He was a girl, I think. She was pretty. Pretty perverted that is! I like to hump cabana boyzz. Pool boys are good too. They taste really nice. Like gum. Sugarless gum. Did you know this interesting fact. Sugarless gum is the kind that has the most amount of fetal/fecal matter. That’s why it tastes good. Like kit-kats and beer. I like beer. It makes me drunk. What THE HELL AM I DOING WASTING MY TIME. Wasting away like fecal matter. I better go.
THE END
So, there’s this dog, right? And, like, he ate pudding day and night. He goes for a walk. Out comes the pudding. Everyone knows pudding grows on trees. One fell on him. And that is how Isaac Newton discovered gravity. Isaac Newton doesn’t grow on trees, you know? Not like pudding anyway. Dogs poop on pudding. I poop on pudding too. So do you, you dirty bastard. Ew, you’re gross, man. Speaking of gross. So the dog at the pudding, and liked it. You would like it too if you had popped on it yourself. Be my man. She is a slave for him. So my dogs are like obsessed with this giant fetus. They sniff at it and poke it with the tip of their tongue. They are all Siamese twins joined at the tongue. It makes me horny. Horny like a goose. A goose on crack. That poops on pudding. It is a slave for you. And then Vicky appears wearing nothing but a hiking thong. She is crying right now. But she is laughing on the inside. And out. And upside-down like her mother, whom of which she has been born, in twenty years a slave for him, sitting on his lap in moccasins. They are really nice. Naya was a fifteen year old virgin. Then she met Sanina. They went to her apartment. Yada yada yada … now she is a hore. My ex-boyfriend came over last night, and boy are my arms tired. You know? Yeah, ya do. Zits! I strangled my zits with my teddy bear’s scarf. He wants it back but he’s not so sure. Damn him. And his scarf.
THE END
Once upon a time, there was a pig. And a penguin. They were all gay as hell. I mean flamingly. FLAMINGLY! Anywho, our story begins with a bear. A black bear, tall and wide. He enjoys his martinis dryly and his lesbians wetly. Personally, I prefer jello. Jello thighs. If it were any more jiggly, I’d (Bill Cosby) would stick a spoon in it. Mm-mm good. I like-a the tomato-a soup-a. It sticks to the roof of my mouth. Crunch, crunch. Anywho, the bear. So like, this bear right? Ok. It has 43 children and grandchildren. One of them may be his brother or sister. We’re not sure. So then he died. THE END. Wait, …he was killed by the pig. And the penguin/duck interbreed in disguise. Undercover, you know.
THE END
Well, that's it for the Typewriter Collection! I hope you enjoyed it, and that it got your loins tingling in anticipation for even MORE journeys into the bowels of Amalot! ....and yes, I mean that literally. Bowels, that is. Don't know what I mean? Then Return to Amalot and find out, foo!
