Happy Stanksgiving!

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This topic contains 13 replies, has 3 voices, and was last updated by  William T. Thrasher 6 years, 8 months ago.

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    William T. Thrasher

    Happy Stanksgiving, to Oithlings one and all!
    May your glasses run with suds, and your trousers slowly fall!
    May your circuspinuts runneth over, and your broodbuds spawn anew!
    May your plorps plop to the fullest, and your belly fill with goo!



    Thats bad…. real real bad… so bad it done never been good…


    William T. Thrasher

    And that’s the true meaning of stanksgiving.



    Which is different from Skanksgiving which happens every other foursday at the Rub-and-Chug.



    (With coupon!)


    William T. Thrasher

    And now, a limerick.

    A prickly tizn’t from Floom,
    once locked herself in her own room.
    She wanted to split,
    but her quills wouldn’t fit,
    so she picked the lock with her bazooms.


    William T. Thrasher

    And now, one more limerick.

    An upstanding bodle named Glog,
    once woke up facedown in a bog.
    He tried to recall,
    how he’d taken his fall,
    but his head was still brimming with grog.


    William T. Thrasher

    And now, a third limerick.

    A danged wrangler without any hair,
    once fell into darkest despair.
    He could get no wig,
    so was turned down for the gig,
    of being the joining in Stan’s next affair.



    Great limericks

    Those are some scary Swiss army bazooms if they also work as lock picks.


    William T. Thrasher

    You don’t know that tizn’t like I did. That one’s based on a true story.


    William T. Thrasher

    This one is also based on a true story.

    A popular pimp with three hands,
    got hopelessly lost in the sands.
    He felt around for a road,
    but nowhere could be go’d,
    so he survived by eating his glands.


    William T. Thrasher

    There once was a hot-to-trot smelf,
    who just couldn’t help himself.
    He’d pinched the behind,
    of anything he could find,
    and stored what came out in a delf.



    You are going to AABBA your way into the top 10 oithlings at this rate. Keep it up!
    (current standing lucky 13 but rising steadily. #12 is 7 clams ahead of you.)

    • This reply was modified 6 years, 8 months ago by  Ospprod.

    William T. Thrasher

    As always, the limerick shall be my sword, shield, and steed in my crusade of conquest! The clams be mine!

    A hot, sticky oithling named Will,
    thought limericks were really a thrill.
    He came up with a plan,
    to collect many a clam,
    With rhymes that he spun which were ill.

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