Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Word Play Challenge II

Use the words below to create a haiku, poem, song, short story, prayer or tag line.

Elephant
Saint
Toothpick
Magenta
Toe
Below
Caress

Good luck. :)

"Our greatest battles are that with our own minds." - Jameson Frank

22 Comments:

At 4:54 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Bob Segar already wrote that one -

Here comes Saint Rosie she’s looking mighty fine
And Jill's Magenta tube top's nothin' short of divine
I'll swallow my toothpick if they come to me tonight
Kisses will caress me 'til you know I feel all right
All through the evening they come and they go
With only one thing in common
They got elephant toe below


-cbol

 
At 9:04 PM , Blogger Sarah O. said...

Before I unlocked the door of the wrong side of nowhere dump I call my office, I knew something was wrong. But nothing could have prepared me for the sock in the jaw sight sitting in my thrift store swivel chair.

“Hello, Trouble” she cooed as she sucked on her Tiparillo. Dang if I knew how she could do those things simultaneously.

“Well, if it isn’t my old friend, Mary Magenta Elephant” I scoffed. It had been years since I’d seen her. A little worse for wear but she still had it. “How’d ya get into my private little hellhole?”

“With the silver toothpick you gave me last time we met” she cooed as she blew three perfect smoke rings through the caress of her lips. God, she was good.

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Trouble,” she said. “I’m no saint but I don’t deserve this kind of treatment from Johnny Tightlips.” Then she showed me a badly bruised toe poking coyly from her open-front pumps. You know, the ones below those million dollar gams of hers.

“You don’t know what he’s capable of,” she shuddered.

I didn’t but I had a funny feeling I was about to find out.

 
At 11:24 PM , Anonymous Bismuth said...

Saint Jimbob announced a contest
To tickle an elephant's chest
The prize: a free rent of
A toothpick magenta
And half a below-toe caress.

 
At 4:09 AM , Blogger Kafaleni said...

Eric was writing a new book "The Worship Practices of the Abbashabundi Tribe of Lower East Gupenschlagg". He was having trouble, because apparently the Abbashabundi worshipped no-one and nothing, so Eric was basically making stuff up as he wrote. Hey, why the hell not? He was almost finished. The only chapter left was covering spring festivals. With a bottle of tequila for inspiration, Jim looked around his small motel room in Chillicothe, OH, noticing that the central heating was on the fritz again. "Geez, it's as cold as an elephant's a$$ in here. That's it!" and he started to write:
'As the winter fades to spring, the Abbashabundi celebrate the coming of the new season with a ceremony called "The Magenta Elephant Festival". All the village women come out into the centre square and give demonstrations of their bodypainting talents.*does tequila shot* They start by decorating their toe nails. They dip toothpicks into jars of natural dyes, and used these to paint very intricate designs in homage of Saint Nellie. *double shot, chased by mini-bar bottle or two of JD* Following this, they are bathed in goats milk by slickly oiled cabana boys (History has yet to explain how the cabana boys arrived in Abbashabundi, given the distinct lack of cabanas, but that's for another book).*slug of tequila* Once the women are fully prepared, the men come out, they caress their women into a state of willingness, then take them down to the Hot Tub Of Nostalgia, and, ... well, let's just say, what happens below water level stays below water level.'

THE END
*hic!*

qxbaqwqw - wth?

 
At 4:11 AM , Blogger Kafaleni said...

eep.. where it says Jim, please replace it with the name "Eric". I changed his name for reasons best known to myself.. and I'm not even sure I understand my reasoning, but apparently I missed one edit.

 
At 8:27 AM , Blogger Tamara said...

I *heart* Cbol.

I'd join in, but I'm soooo lazy... I'll just read. :)

 
At 9:27 AM , Blogger Higgy said...

While caressing the elephant's toe,
The saint stepped on a toothpick below,
He said with a bellow,
It's turning magenta and yellow,
And was so sore, he lost his halo.

Thank you, I'll be here all week. Try the veal and tip your waiters...

 
At 10:18 AM , Blogger punky said...

*wild applause*

 
At 10:34 AM , Blogger punky said...

Picnic in Africa - by Punky

My toe you caress in the meadow
The sun, more magenta than yellow
An elephant wanders
Below hills over yonder
One toothpick, a saint and my fellow

 
At 12:42 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

“I say old chap, spot-on weather for a bit of foxing. Where did I put the brandy?”

“You hid it in your liver, as I recall. We’ll fox after I finish this mammoth verbal endeavor. There’s a solution, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Well, it’s far above me to interfere with your verbal grab-assery. You stroke your dictionary and I’ll chase these rosy-cheeked lasses about the estate. Ah, excellent. I’ve found my emergency backup brandy!”

*swig*

“Sweet Sinner’s Soliloquy!! This tastes like evil on a stick!”

“You’ve just taken a strong shot of mouthwash. It can only help, if you’re still chasing the bonny lasses. You’ve the breath of a pickled wildebeest in a tannery.”

“Fine. Give me your so-called ‘mammoth’ verbal task, I’ll fix you right up and we can bloody go foxing. We’ve already danced around every word on the list because Fed is retentive and needs a hobby.”

*thinks mightily*

*falls down. reconsiders the brandy*

“Here. As Saint Fulbert cleaned betwixt the nail of his pinky toe with an unloved toothpick, he caressed his mighty elephant forward below the watchful gaze of a beautiful magenta sun. Then he swilled some brandy and went foxing. The end.”

“…Thanks. I think. To foxing!!”


-Fed n’ Stuff

 
At 12:06 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Where'd everybody go?

*pops some winterfresh gum*

*quick sniff-check*

*clear*

It's Friday, somebody come out to play!

*pout*

-Fed

 
At 2:34 PM , Blogger Kafaleni said...

Your brilliance stunned us all, Fed. We're just over here, recovering under the tender loving care of hot "I'm not a doctor, but I do play doctors & nurses" kinda medical personnel

pheaxrpf - take two nurses and call me in the morning.

 
At 3:19 PM , Blogger punky said...

I'm so stunned, I forgot how to type. My cat is actually typing this.

 
At 3:56 PM , Blogger Tamara said...

*snork* @ Punky :)

 
At 4:18 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

*big goofy grin @ Punky*

They're handy. I would've flunked freshman comp. if it hadn't been for Whiskers' thesis on the history of hairballs in Shakespeare. ;)

FD

 
At 6:35 PM , Anonymous boo augustus said...

Finding the lyrics to "Memory" was easy enough. Simon simply Googled the word with "cats" and a dozen or more websites offered the lyrics. And of course, the melody was easy to recall. Who hadn't heard "Cats." It was the benchmark of musical theatre for an entire generation: "I laughed, I cried, it was better than Cats."

But now the hard part. Simon had stared at the lyrics on his laptop for hours. How does one write a spoof song? Epsecially if one must use words like "magenta," and "elephant" and "toothpick." "In fact," Simon mused to himself -- although the cat, who Simon suspected possessed pyschic mind-reading abilities and therefore always put quotation marks arouns his own thoughts wehn writing, was stretch across the desk doing a bad impersonation of Kim Bassiner as a lounge singer -- "I'm not even sure "magenta" is a real word."

"Damn, that Punky," Simon said to no one in particular, although the cat was still there. The cat raised its head and blinked.

Unfortuately, the cat liked Punky better than Simon. And the cat was magical. It understood that Simon had uttered an unforegiveable curse at Punky. Punky, who had this strange toe fetish but nevertheless always caressed the cat . . . .

OMG, this is making my brain hurt. You can take your fancy words and stick them down below where the sun don't shine until Saint Swithen's Day for all I care. UGH!

 
At 11:22 PM , Blogger punky said...

buck up little boo bear ...

you can try again in the morning. :)

*smooches*

 
At 10:45 AM , Blogger Graz said...

"....and the Chief of Police indicted that it was the first time he's seen a cell phone used in such a way."

"In other news, the National Association of Toothpick Wholesalers has released a report warning against the dangers of using animal extremities for below the gum line food extraction. We go to Birk Borkman for more details......Birk?"

"Thanks, Petunia. As we've all heard, the new craze sweeping the parishes of Saint Snoopy Evangelical Churches and Rib Emporiums involve using an animal toe to gently caress leftover steak and pork products from the gumline. While this helps to eliminate the horror of removing the toothpick from your mouth and finding the tip covered with a disgusting magenta coloring, there can be far worse dangers associated with toe picking. Last month, after a frenzied rib bone marrow sucking contest, Elton Ringo Manilow was severely injured when the elephants toe he was using to clean his teeth fell on his head....along with the rest of the elephant that was on the other end of the toe. Family members state that he made it a habit to use elephants toes in such a manner, this was the first time he had attempted this while the elephant was standing on a freshly waxed floor. Although Mr. Manilow's head was crushed to the thickness of a T.V. Guide magazine, doctors say he will be able to resume his job as a script writer for infomercials as early as next week.......Back to you, Petunia"

 
At 11:29 AM , Blogger punky said...

Graz ... Excellent my friend.

Happy Easter to those of you who celebrate that kind of thing.

frazlll = candy that starts out hard and then turns into gum.

 
At 3:34 PM , Blogger Kafaleni said...

Although Mr. Manilow's head was crushed to the thickness of a T.V. Guide magazine

We can only dreammmm.. the impossible dreeaammmmm... *ducks flying sockful'o'nickels*

 
At 3:35 PM , Blogger Kafaleni said...

oh, and Happy Easter to you, Punky!!

 
At 5:54 PM , Blogger Slyeyes said...

The gentle breeze wafted through the open windows of the convent and caressed the cheeks of Sister Magenta as she carefully lit the votives before giving thanks to the patron saint of elephants. She knew that it was the holy act of St. Simba himself who had intervened and spared the villagers from being crushed beneath the iron toes of the tyranical potentate, Chief Jumangi-Janga "The Toothpick" Lucchese.

Meanwhile, in the valley below....

 

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