OK here is the deal. Make up a three to five paragraph story. Yes, there are some rules too. You have to use all five things I list in the story logically. No sexual content, either explicit or implied - that way no story will involve "odd" things that happen to ball peen hammers. AND there must be a relevant moral of the story which is summed up in a single sentence after the one paragraph like this:

The moral of the story is:
Always brush your teeth.

When you do this, YOU get to list five things for the next person to write about.

Ready? Go!

Here are the 5 story elements. Remember, only one paragraph long and there must be a moral!

1. Lime Jello
2. A Ferrari
3. Sand
4. A midget...dwarf...little person...whichever
5. The cap to a toothpaste tube - ONLY the cap!!

RULES CLARIFICATION: No more than say 5 paragraphs or so. Also put the 5 things used in bold please.

Also, use the items listed in the story as actual items, not metaphors.

I had stolen the ferarri almost two hours ago. I can't believe how fast it got me to the beach. I mean, I guess I should believe it; it is a Ferarri afterall.

I stepped out into the sand and dipped my spoon back into the container of Lime Jell-o and felt it scrape against something... The cap of a tube of toothpaste. Was it some sort of prize? I didn't understand.

Just then the police had caught up with me, and a midget in uniform walked up to me; tazered me in the ass, and dragged me to the back of the cruiser.

Moral: Don't steal cars. It's illegal and stuff.

(sorry moe, I sretched it into three paragraphs.0

1. Beer
2. A dead hooker
3. A Dildo
4. A tub of Vasoline
5. A stuffed animal
(remember, nothing sexual. good luck.Mwuahahahaha)

My boyfriend came home late last night. He's a cop, we're gay. But that's not the point. So, there I was drinking a beer, watching a new gay football league. It was the Dildos vs. the Ramrods...and he walks in.

"How was work?"

"Not bad, we pulled a dead hooker out of a tub of Vaseline down at the Johnson & Johnson plant."

"That must of been tricky." I responded.

"Not really, I mean, she just slipped right out." He said.

After that, he went to change. I hugged my favorite stuffed animal tight and was thankful he came home safely.

Moral: Don't play in a tub of Vaseline, it could be a lot of fun, but it could also be deadly.

1. Sliced Pineapple
2. Swiss Army Knife
3. A Salt Lick
4. A Baseball
5. A coffee bean

I knew I drank too much beer last night when I woke up and saw that I had been making Petroleum Jelly art again. Standing in the center of my bedroom, in all it’s glory, was the jelly statue of a dead hooker holding a dildo. I knew my statues usually had something hidden inside of them, I quickly tried to scoop my masterpiece back into the empty tub of Vaseline. As I neared the center, I saw Dave the Dinosaur – my little brother’s favorite stuffed animal. I ran Dave to the laundry room and much to my dismay, we were out of laundry detergent. So, I took him outside and set fire to him.

Moral of this story: If you can’t clean up your mess, destroy the evidence.

Damn you Icepigs, getting your replies in before me. Damn you Cheeselog, editing your story so it looked like a reply to DEP's. And damn you Plime, dying so I didn't know.

Well I'm putting this one in anyway:

God, beer makes you do some crazy things. Just last weekend I woke up after a heavy night out. As the midday sun lay across my face I slowly, carefully opened my eyes. The light hurt, it was so bright, but I forced myself to continue. As I did so, I became aware of the weight of something in bed with me. I didn't remember trying to pick anyone up in the bar last night; but then again I didn't remember leaving the bar. There was no movement coming from the weight in the bed, so I rolled over onto my side in the hope of going back to sleep, and in the hope of waking up again to find that whoever it was next to me would have gotten up and gone home. But multi-tasking was beyond me and I couldn't close my eyes and roll at the same time. This was why my eyes were still open when I ended up on my side and why I saw the now empty economy size tub of vaseline lying overturned. A charge of adrenaline shot through my body and collided with the hangover that was resting curled up at the top of my skull, jolting it awake. I screamed with pain and knew I would sleep no more. Sitting up I risked a look at the other side of my bed, and screamed again. Lying there was a bear. A big brown bear. A big, brown, glassy eyed bear. I leapt out of bed, still screaming. But then it struck me as odd that the bear hadn't been woken by my screams. Looking at it more closely, I could see that it wasn't moving, wasn't breathing. I remembered then that it was a stuffed bear and I had found it in a skip on the way home. It was just too big to fit through the door so I had covered it in vaseline so that I could squeeze it into the house, thinking it was funny. Chuckling to myself I sat down on the side of the bed. That was when I saw the body of the hooker that I had clubbed to death with a dildo in a fit of drunken rage. I get such mood swings when I drink.

Moral Enjoy alcohol responsibly.

I got round the whole paragraph thing by not pressing return. That's almost cheating as much as DEP.

Next 5 items:

1. A spork
2. A fur coat
3. An mp3 player
4. The ghost of Elvis
5. A cup of tea

I wrote a whole silly story and DEP submitted a few minutes before I did. Fair enough...I wrote another story using his 5 things in order to stay in line with the the thread rules.

SO...tough luck buddy. Suck it up and write something else - LoL.

Actually, to keep the thread from digressing, I recommend Icepigs write something with my 5 things or you can trump him and write something...I want to see my 5 things in a story!!!

I did that too - that was my second one - The first one had midgets wrestling in jello - it was fantastic.

Having done the same with the second one, I was determined it was going to go up, inside or outside the rules.

But yeah - we go with your 5 things.

I have to win on time to get mine done.

That sucks. But midgets in jello - LoL.

I might work them into a later story - it's a great image.

So It's Thanksgiving at our house. That means one thing: roasted honey ham surrounded by that cheap, canned sliced pineapple. My mother is pacific Islander, so this is her way of merging cultures. I would prefer turkey, but she's a pork girl. My Dad grabs the carving knife which is little bigger than a Swiss Army Knife and stabs violently the ham shank. Ham bits land in Aunt Tooty's hair. Everyone knows the meat is far too dry even before Dad delivers it to our plates. Dry and salty. Funny, I think, this tastes like a ham flavored salt lick. Then comes the cranberry "sauce." Mother scoops it onto my plate. It is the size and shape of a baseball. Uncle Arthur mentions to uncle James that his hair peice is askew. James takes offense and slams the table. "You always have to mention my toupee!" A tumbler of Mom's thanksgiving punch knocks over, spilling a crimson wave into Aunt Tooty's chest. Suddenly, as if the table were a battle field, food starts flying. Cranberry sauce flings into Dad's face. Ham slices pelt the children's table. Little Sammi has green bean cassarole up her nose. Soon, all the food at the table is depleted. They turn to the cupboards. Rice, usually thrown at newlyweds, is used now to keep Grandma (who has my brother Jeremy in a headlock) at bay. Someone grabs Dad's favorite whole bean coffee which, at point blank range, is painful. A lone coffee bean whizzes through the air. All eyes watch as it spirals toward the left eye of Grandpa, who is patiently sitting in the corner waiting for the madness to end. Everyone cringes. Grandpa keels over holding his eye. "Oh my Gawd," somebody says.

The moral of the story: Don't eat with Family members during the holidays; go to your girlfriend's house.

1. a Screwdriver
2. an Emerald necklace
3. a Tawdry Magazine
4. fake vomit
5. presidential signature

This Thanksgiving story contained 100% of my daily dose of awesome. Great job, blue!

(Not to knock anyone else's stories - I just loved blue's.)


To take on blue's challenge:
I walked into the bar said "Bartender - gimme a screwdriver. It's been a long day." As I waited for my drink, I pulled out the emerald necklace I bought to use in my apology to my wife - that morning, she had found my tawdry magazine collection hidden in the garage, and she was not happy, as I found out when my lunchbox turned out to be filled not with a delicious sandwich, but with fake vomit. I told my story to the bartender, and he said "Buddy, you want her to forgive you for hiding that, you're gonna need some kind of signature from the President. Good luck!"


The moral of the story:
Sometimes, bartenders aren't very understanding. I mean, come on - my wife loves emeralds! ;)


New stuff:
1. a laptop
2. peanut butter
3. a baseball cap
4. a moving van
5. plastic baggies

Please see rules changes on the first post.

As I sat at the bus stop drinking my screwdriver from a cleverly disguised Coke can, I picked up the dog-eared copy of Tawdry Magazine from the ground. It had a big mud puddle stain on the front, but was still perfectly serviceable.

The bus arrived and I stepped on and sat down. As I thumbed through the pages, I saw an ad for "the most realistic fake vomit ever! The ad was circled many times and had a smiley face with the words 'This'll get d**k for sure' written as well." How odd.

I turned the page and nearly died from shock. There on the page that had the ad for a Monica Lewinsky Commemorative Emerald Necklace were the words "Good Luck in future endeavors!" and a Presidential signature.

Moral of the story:
George Bush is like all the other guys in some ways after all!

My list deleted for being too slow

I sat the stoop outside my apartment, a cigarette perched in one hand and a plastic baggie filled with Lucky Charms. Alternating drags with a few bits of cereal, I stared at the street, willing him to come. As I stubbed out my cigarette against the labyrinth of sidewalk cracks laid out before me, I felt the moving van rumbling up the street. 'Finally', I thought.

The mover jumped out of the van, his pants drooped dangerously low over his extended belly. His Yankees baseball cap was turned backwards, offering his eyes no protection from the glaring morning sun. His coveralls were stained with grease, old mustard, and what I could only hope was peanut butter.

He came towards me with a stench confirmed that it was, in fact, not peanut butter. A chubby hand extended, and I couldn't find a polite reason not to take it. I led him into the apartment and directed him to the boxes in the bedroom. I hadn't turned my back for more than 30 seconds before a sickening crack and the phrase "Oh s**t!" richocheted from the bedroom. I looked to see a chubby boot in the middle of my laptop.

Moral of the story: Get your friends to help you move.

New Stuff:
1) Candle
2) Red Bedsheet
3) Chocolate cupcake
4) Rubber gloves
5) An outdated calendar

ok hot date senario...

'setting the final touches to the scene, lighting all the candles, watching the shadows dance all across my red silk bedsheet. A single chocolate cupcake was placed upon the pillow.

In the draws at the side of the bed lay my rubber gloves, and other kinky paraphinalia, which signalled a good night in. All that spoiled the scene was an old calender which hung on my en suite bathroom wall, just begging to be replaced by new pictures and dates.'

Ok thats two, like all the others

moral: never trust an out of date calender

ok 1) Pint Glass
2) War of the worlds (jeff wayne soundtrack)
3) Tortoiseshell cat
4) Fairy Lights
5) snow

I sat at the bar drinking heavily. My pint glass was empty again. But this time, the bartender would not refill it. He said something about having had enough. So now I had to walk home.

As I started out, I noticed that the snow had gotten much deeper since I arrived. Everything was coated with a thick layer of white. The cars parked on the street had windows that glinted in the street lights like they had fairy lights strung all over them. It was a beautiful sight, even to a drunk.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, but stopped as I was about to open the door when I heard the War of the Worlds soundtrack blasting from inside my home. Seeing as how I live alone, I was somewhat disturbed.

I quietly unlocked the door and grabbed an umbrella from the rack by the entrance, ready (or so I thought) for a fight. I heard footsteps in the kitchen. I crawled along the floor, and prepared to strike. I screamed loudly and swung the umbrella. My tortoiseshell cat, Zappa, hissed and jumped out from the counter. He must have stepped on the TV remote and started the movie!

Relieved, I passed out on the sofa until morning.

Moral of the story:
While cats are more intelligent that your average drunk, they still have bad taste in movies.

1. A 50 foot coil of red licorice
2. A 20 pound sledgehammer
3. A glass sculpture of a ballerina
4. A live warthog
5. An issue of Life magazine from January 10th, 1955

So there I was, pet-sitting for my grandmother while she was on holidays in Arizona. Her house was like a time warp; she kept ancient books and magazines on her coffee tables. Being the quirky old lady she is, she decided instead of becoming a crazy cat lady she'd become a crazy farm lady - and none of her pets was more precious then her precious pet Snuffles, thewarthog.

The morning before she was set to arrive home, I was deeply engrossed in the January 10th, 1955 issue of Life magazine when I heard a noise outside the window. The 50-foot coil of red licorice I had used to secure Snuffles' pen shut had been eaten through by menacing rabbits over the night. Snuffles lept inside through the kitchen window and bolted up the stairs. I chased after him, but as he rounded the corner on the landing, he bumped a 20 pound sledgehammer that had been resting on the railing. As I stood helplessly, the sledge teetered precariously on the edge of the stair before falling onto dear granny's life-size glass ballerina sculpture.

Luckily, granny is blind, so I placed a cheap pawn-shop ballerina figurine in it's place and she was none the wiser!

Moral of the Story:
If you're going to tie up animals with ropes, make sure the ropes are not edible first.

1. A green towel
2. A yellow taxi
3. A blue penguin
4. A black and yellow speckled rash
5. A red bra

I set my wife on the seat of the yellow taxi, hopped in, and told the driver "to the hospital, and hurry!" She was out cold, and her black & yellow speckled rash seemed to be getting worse by the minute, so I hadn't taken the time to get her fully dressed - I'd just wrapped her up in a green towel and carried her out.

As we pulled out of the neighborhood, I fidgeted with the strap of her red bra, which was peeking out above the towel, and despite my worry, couldn't stop the image of her as a Christmas tree from crossing my mind. She stirred briefly, and I leaned close just in time to hear her say "make that blue penguin go away, honey."

To make a long story short, we reached the hospital and I threw some cash at the cabbie and rushed into the ER. My wife ended up in intensive care, and when all was said and done, it turned out that she had developed an allergy to plaid. I had to give up my job as a lumberjack, but she was able to turn the blue penguin into a hit cartoon, so I guess it all turned out OK in the end.

The moral of the story:
Some good can come out of just about any bad situation. Well, if you can overlook the whole "giving up plaid" thing (and who could overlook that?).


1. a ninja
2. a priest
3. a rabbi
4. Santa Claus
5. a bar

A ninja, a priest, a rabbi and Santa Claus walk into a bar. The bartender takes one look at them and says "What is this a joke?"

I'll be here all week folks.

Moral of the story:
Tip your waiter

1. A river of hot lava
2. Quaker Oats cereal
3. wet cement
4. dandruff
5. the carburetor out of a 1957 Ford Fairmont

It was an odd thing to see in the middle of the jungle. But there it was, the carburetor out of a 1957 Ford Fairmont. It reminded me of that day, when Johnny and the boys drove up in that Ford. "Hey Frank, so you gonna enlist or what?" I swallowed hard on my last bite of Quaker Oats cereal. We just graduated, with nothing else better to do but join the Marines.

So there I was, years later. Trudging through the jungle of Vietnam, every step was like walking through 3 feet of wet cement. Johnny and the boys were long gone now...I was the only one left. I unzipped and took a piss on that carburetor, it felt like a river of hot lava.

Damn boom-boom, I shoulda known better. I'm came to Vietnam with a chronic dandruff problem and I'll be leaving with the clap, go figure. Life is cruel, but at least I'm still alive.

Moral of the story:
If you have dandruff, just buy some good shampoo - you don't have to go to Vietnam.

1. A shotgun
2. A piece of licorice
3. Fresh cut grass
4. Jenga
5. A roll of toilet paper

edit: I used metaphors...is that bad Moe? Do we need to use the actual item in the story?

He sat down on the cold toilet seat just in time. He knew that his body's violent, shotgun-like reaction wasn't an attempt to create a miniature Janga set in the porcelain bowl below, but a direct result of what he'd eaten only hours before, and for that he was now dearly paying the price. Quickly, he reached over and pushed up the window, sucking air and gripping the sill for support. The scent of freshly cut grass wafted through the warm summer breeze, mixing with the putrid essence from within his own body that spoke of sickness and decay, of his own terrible addiction that was slowly eating him alive. And then he noticed it. The empty roll.

"Oh, sweet God!" he exclaimed in horror, knowing full well how embarrassing it would be to relinquish his perch unwashed in the midst of his wife's crowded baby shower just on the other side of the door. The mere thought reddened his face with shame.

He squeezed his eyelids shut. "God, please! If you help me, I promise to never ever do it again!" One lid cracked open, and he surveyed the bathroom for a divine response. Other than an utterly useless piece of licorice lying forgotten on the counter, he saw nothing. Another violent convulsion from within left him shaking and gasping for breath. He stared down at the cracked blue tiles between his feet. "Oh, God! Help me, and I'll devote my life to helping others stay clean! Everywhere I go I'll live my life as a signpost, warning others away from this horrible vice!" Another convulsion tore through his frame, and he gritted his teeth in agony until it passed.

He opened his eyes. Waited. A lawnmower hummed somewhere down below. He heard the lighthearted feminine chatter from the next room as they began opening gifts. And then, over the windowsill, arose a phoenix of hope. A robin, chirping cheerfully, and in it's tiny claw it grasped... a roll of toilet paper.

He reached out for it, knowing full well the implications of the divine gift. Never more would he be known by the name his parents had given him. He would fulfill his promise to the Almighty. He would help others overcome the addiction that had almost killed him. In that timeless moment, he was reborn a new man, his life given striking meaning and purpose.

DontEatPoop arose from the throne.



And the moral of the story is... Well, surely that's obvious.

I didn't adhere to the length guidelines, so I'll let whoever's next carry the torch. Lol.

Once upon a time an eskiMoe in his kayak got very hungry. He had some leftover licorice, but it was completely frozen. he had to warm it up. He did not have any firewood, so he just set his roll of toilet paper on fire using his shotgun. He has put on the fire some fresh cut "grass" to get in a better mood, got a bit smiling and not caring about the cruel realities of life and put on the fire everything that could burn, even his Jenga set. At this point his kayak got on fire as well. He had to swim to the shore.

Morale: You can not heat and have your kayak at the same time.

1. Woodpecker
2. White Bell Cow Nuts
3. spotted dick
4. Yellow-bellied Sapsucker
5. Rent Tit cock