Stop, you are killing me!! Hopefully, I won't lose my job for laughing my ass off today at all of these gems-

Another classic, SNH!!

Abundant, absurd and awful alliteration

Lucy Little’s lavish lively locks and long lean limbs leave lovers longing to lick lips like luscious lollipops, lurching lollyping lipreaders love a languid, labored and lusty lingering at the lady’s lovely lumpy labia leading to loopy Lucy’s love of labiomancy.

"Hank's"
 

The diner was closing. Dotty loudly smacked her gum as she loaded Eddy One Eye up with the remaining three day old doughnuts and shooshed him out the door. It was yet another slow day at 'Hanks' Good Eats, Bait Shop, and VCR Repair'. One would think with three so very complimentary businesses under one roof that business would be booming. As Dotty pulled the front door shut she glanced up at the sign that touted the promise of one-stop shopping. She tried to remember if ever all the bulbs had worked at one time or had it always been simply a vessel where good bulbs went to die?

Dotty stood looking at the sign that now read "H nk Eat Bait n CRep" . No wonder every day was a slow day at "Hank's".

Someone @ work just asked me if I was OK when I went into the B/R, after looking at my teary eyes and reddened face, which makes me look as though I fell ill with a high fever and the flu.

There must be something wrong with me, the Psychiatric RN, that I find these so hysterical that I can't stop laughing, even now.

WMM, Hank's is awesome and MT- the lumpy labia about put me on the floor!

OMFG- all of you are so good at being bad and yes, that is high praise. Not just anyone can write badly, quite so well:)

You all made my 1st day back at work after 4-days off, so much better!

The Argument
 

“You are NOT sticking that thing in me!!”. She was almost hysterical now. “It is so…BIG. Why does it have to be so…BIG”? He was usually a calm man. He couldn’t remember getting worked up about much of anything, but he was all worked up now. Why did she have to be so difficult? Why could she not see this would be good for her, for the both of them? “Now listen woman, this is a part of life, and you will take it and be happy about it! It will make you feel good. I promise.” He tried to hide his disappointment. For weeks they had been having the same argument. Why didn’t she just shut up and let him stick it in her? She was almost in tears now. “It’s so long, it looks like it will hurt.” He tried to regain a bit of his usual composure. “It will only hurt the first time. You’ll see”. She pushed him away. “Nope, not gonna happen”. That was it. He was tired of playing games. He was putting it in and she would just have to get used to it. He moved closer. He was going to have to move fast if he was going to get it in there. And with one quick motion, he thrust the insulin needle into her hip.

Arlo couldn’t imagine how hy had lived before Poppy. It was as though hys life began when Poppy smiled. Hy remembered how she had smiled at hym the day hys buddy had introduced hym. Hy remembered how ecstatic hy was just knowing her name. Before Poppy, hy had simply wandered aimlessly through hys life, going through the motions of living. Now, Arlo could attest to being completely present. Hy couldn’t wait for the next minute to begin while still being able to live totally, completely in the moment. A trick that was as difficult as it was impossible. Hys body ached, hys soul ached, hys heart ached, hys entire being ached and it wasn’t the flu. No, it was love. The love Arlo had found in this deep meaningful connection with the woman of hys dreams. A woman who was, coincidently, not only beautiful beyond measure, but was also as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Everything Arlo had ever wanted was embodied there in Poppy. Hy looked up and glanced toward hys soul mate as she sat calmly, regally across the room. She was everything hy would ever need and everything hy could ever want, she was all the things hy had dreamed of in a partner. She was all things to hym. It never ceased to amaze hym how she could be exactly who hy wanted her to be, how everything hy ever dreamed was exactly who she was. Now if only hy could only find a way to get to know her. Then they could begin planning the wedding.

She knew that tomcat wasn’t right in the head the day he showed up on her doorstep all mangy and hissing and carrying a dirty rag in his mouth like it was some kind of precious doll baby, but she invited him in and poured him a bowl of cream because in some way he reminded her of her momma who also wasn’t right in the head and was now serving time (and serving herself up too, to hear her tell it) for going all postal like after that “incident” down at the refinery, but she knew it wasn’t the cat’s fault and after all we all have our crosses to bear, her cross in particular being made out of clay and pipe cleaners momma had fashioned in prison arts & crafts class and which weighed about 10 pounds but which she wore around her neck dutifully even though she was developing quite a stoop.

Bad, so very bad
 

Susan reflected deeply on her life, stretching back as far as infancy, though everyone told her that she could not possibly remember back that far but she knew that she could and that everyone else was wrong about that and she laughed-a sound somewhere between a phlegm-filled, 30-year smoker and that of the organ-grinder that had mysteriously appeared on her street last week, complete with a monkey in a jaunty red-satin hat, wearing jodhpurs with bright orange suspenders, that matched her coat and she reflected on her life and thought that was good, very good, the best it ever had been; excellent as a matter of fact.

She thoughtfully stared out of the dual-paned windows that she had installed last winter to keep out the cold and to lower her heating bill, watching the white crystals of frost cling to the edges of the panes and the little rivulets of water that almost appeared the same as the diamond-sparkling jewels of the tears she had shed the other day, as she buttoned up her orange, mohair coat, that looked something like Fluffy, her long-deceased cat that she had loved so much and had been crying over and she wondered if she had gotten the coat because it did remind her of all of those nights that Fluffy cuddled her in her down-filled bed, complete with down-filled duvet, down pillows and down feather bed, when she was missing her long-lost lover that used to cuddle her in bed before she was replaced by Fluffy but she reasoned, there was nothing she could do about either of them and she could always sleep with her coat, if she got really lonely.

She picked up her prized Bic pen and began to chew on the well-chewed end, as she usually did when thinking hard about something-which was her custom but also because thinking was difficult for her but she did her very best and with a deeply furrowed brow, she began to pen her missive. She kept her coat on because it comforted her and helped her to think better.

Can't stop laughing...
 

Thank you all!

That was hilarious. I couldn't help cracking up and then I felt mean. Just like those guys. The woman anchor did not find it amusing at all.

Inventing and selling the clap on/clap off cock wasn’t all the knee-jerk-slapping, panty-twisting good time people thought it was. Since the failure of his “Dirty Dick Tricks” sex magic set, Ott wanted to make sure he thought long and hard in the excogitation phase of his new, convenient love missile. And he knew that the marketing deployment of this phallic phenomenon had to be equal to the promise of this easy, pleasy cock rocket’s red glare. No, this time, QVC and “As seen on TV” ads wouldn’t due. In fact, nothing less than a helicopter drop of flying pamphelted plastic penises would.

Lady Marmalade
 

If she’d been paying more attention, she might have noticed the ginger tabby before she backed up over him flattening him into what looked like burnt toast covered in marmalade (and when it turned out that his name had indeed been Marmalade, she’d remark on the irony, smiling at the word irony because it made her think of ironing which of course made her think of flat, unwrinkled things and Marmalade was indeed flat though not unwrinkled) but instead she’d been thinking about what a great day it had been, which was a huge relief because she was wearing her new boots that she loved but that she was almost convinced were bad luck on account of something bad happening each of the three previous times she’d worn them and while she didn’t want to give them up, she knew that sometimes one just had to let go and believe in fate which thankfully she knew was now smiling upon her right up until she got distracted by the old lady running out of the house screaming “Marmalade, oh Marmalade”, and she took her foot off the brake, backed up inadvertently, and heard a giant splat.

The first sentence of the book written about the female serial killer who came to be known as The KupKake Killer:

Snot ran down and blended with the dirt already encrusted on her fat face as she tried to sneak out of the classroom without being seen as the other kids, the charming, sweet and sweet smelling, well and cleanly dressed, towheaded blue eyed darlings, screamed and yelled their good-byes and happy holidays to teacher on their way out the door as Christmas vacation was starting today, but she knew nobody especially, well especially anybody, wanted a happy holiday hug from her smelly fat self, so she took her cupcake from the party and headed for the door when the most annoying, most beautiful, most well liked, most popular, meanest, cruelest, most hurtful girl in the school dropped her cupcake right in front of her, her personal tormentor’s gooey goody was right there in her path; she picked up her foot and brought it down on the cupcake smashing it to sticky smithereens, immediately she felt a hard slap across her face and the tight angry words from teacher “I saw what you did”, reverberated in her ears, “now you give Emily your cupcake right now” the words you certainly don’t need it you horrid fat cow left unsaid, but all the more louder for that, and meekly she handed her cupcake to the crying Emily whose mouth turned up into a sneer that stabbed home the truth of it all, the sneer brought clarity and explained sensibly, I hope you get this, I hope you remember this lesson, you can’t beat me, you can’t win against me, I am beautiful and popular, the world smiles when I smile and no one will ever choose your side you ugly dirty fat loser.

"What Went Wrong?"
 

Trixie Muldoon was madder than a three-legged pufferfish at a bingo hall. Ever since she had applied for lead pole-dancer at “Poonanny’s” and told to hit the bricks, she was obsessed with what had gone wrong.

So what if her wrinkled face looked like a map to a vacation spot where no one wanted to go. So what if her once perky 44DD’s were now 68 Longs. So what if she had slid down the pole eight inches before her lagging labia joined the rest of her. No, she didn’t think that was what did her in. She racked her brain. She thought she had prepared so well. She had worn her favorite leopard skin thigh high boots, her tiger stripe daisy dukes, and a gold lame` poncho. Her three-tone hair, that transitioned from a sorta mandarin orange at the ends to a kinda tangerinish-salmon in the middle to a blondish-gray at the crown, had never been closer to God as it was that day. She knew she had indeed been a vision. And even being a three pack-a-day smoker for more than 35 years, she was proud to have danced for a whole fifteen seconds before crashing to the floor in a wheezing heap that would have been rivaled only by a grand mal seizure. At least she didn't wet herself this time. No, it was none of those things that had caused her failure. She knew she had looked good and been supremely prepared. She just didn’t get it. It couldn’t be that she was 73 years old could it? Yep...that was it…damn ageists!

Hey! I want a clap on/clap off cock!

Oh, never mind, I would probably get carpal tunnel syndrome from repetitive clapping!

Great idea, btw:)

Another gem, SNH!

Apparently I got a million of em
 

Her name was Mary, but everyone in the small town she lived in called her Big Mamie. It wasn’t cause she was a big woman, although she was that, and it wasn’t cause she had big bazookas, although hers were easily triple D, and it wasn’t cause she had a big brain cause unfortunately Mary would be lucky to find her ass with both hands, but said ass, by the way, was the reason she was called Big Mamie. Her boyfriend since high school, Ricky Roy Taylor, had named her behind the Big Mamie. And he wasn’t shy about telling how he loved to fuck the Big Mamie until she howled and honked like a goose in heat. She hated how he talked about her bottom like it was a separate entity but she loved the attention he paid to the Big Mamie. Still she was getting older now and wanted more respect. She deserved to be treated better. If Ricky Roy expected her to marry him he needed to stop calling her ass the Big Mamie. But when she let him know how much it bothered her, he would just laugh and grab her big bottom and say he loved the Big Mamie as much as he loved god and country and all he ever felt for that beautiful bottom was love and respect. And if Mary doubted it for even a minute she could just see how much he loved and respected the Big Mamie by how his pecker jumped straight up and saluted every time she moved her bottom in his direction. Now Mary had an idea that she wasn’t going to get anywhere just asking, she needed to use psychology on Ricky Roy. She had to come at him from an equal position. She needed a bargaining chip that would make it in Ricky Roy’s best interest to stop with the Big Mamie crap. Not stop with Big Mamie, just stop with calling it that in public. So the very next time the opportunity presented itself, which turned out to be the very next day, when Ricky Roy was rubbing up and down on the Big Mamie, Mary turned around and grabbed Ricky Roy’s pecker and gave it a healthy tug. “Why I just love your beautiful penis, Ricky Roy, it is the most special pecker ever. I love it more than god or country and from now on I’m going to call it Little Dick.” That was the last we ever heard of the Big Mamie around town and it wasn’t long before she was just plain Mary.