Ok this should finish it... Sorry for going twice but the anticipation is a-killin' me...

Emotion: Ennui
National holiday: Talk Like a Pirate Day (not one yet but it should be)
Place people come from: Mother
Name of place: that dodgy chippy on Waterloo road
Plural noun: indices (plural of index)
Part of body: Scapula
Deity: Om
Potential weapon: plunger
Name of religion for Deity mentioned: Omittism probably Omniism, but I liked the pun
Number: one quarter of a half of a million plus three hundred and sixty five point twenty one... give or take a hundred
Name of music group: Drag Queen Bingo
Adjective: wormy
Adjective: Melancholic
Something that is worn: Beany
Adjective: blasphemous
Animal: Rabbit (obviously)
Advice: Duck
Important position in religious heirarchy: kneeling down, hands joined (you can use Archbishop if it fits better )

She said important position in religious hierarchy. Look at the basics, Kat! Which position does almost every religion in the world need? The answer, clearly, is candle-maker. You can dress that up to make it sound fancy - how about a Poissoner?

What on earth do French fish have to do with candles, apart from a strange smell?
Candle makers aren't important, they are essential, that's quite different. Important people are usually of no real use to anyone, that's why they are made important, so they swan off and get out of the way of the people who are actually doing all the work.

Like God.

I woke up with a feeling of ennui, knowing that it was Talk Like a Pirate Day once again. Every year, people come from their mothers to visit that dodgy chippy on Waterloo road and they celebrate by juggling indices with their scapulas.

It is a form of worship for Om, who would smite us with his mighty plunger if we didn't do it. Omittism has one quarter of a half of a million plus three hundred and sixty five point twenty one priests (give or take a hundred), but they prefer to call their religion 'Drag Queen Bingo". They think it sounds more wormy. (wormier?)

I left my house for the main square, where I met a man wearing a melancholic beanie. He was holding a blasphemous rabbit, which said "Duck!". Upon hearing this I enrolled into the priesthood, knowing that I was destined to become the Holy Kneeling Hand Joiner (occassionally referred to as the candle making poissonier).


Well there you have it, tweaked a little bit to read smoothly. I hope you like it!

Who is going to make a blanked out story next?

Nice story Gypsy!

In the absence of any acceptable proof for or against the existence of aforesaid being I shall withhold any smart comments on the basis of possible arse-whipping thunderbolt-wielding divine fury...

I discovered a website that does MadLib Poems, using the work of some well known authors.

There are lots of little widgets to get your creative nodes sparking / entertain you for 5 minutes.

Language is a Virus

This is my poem (with verb endings corrected). It doesn't make much sense, but I still like it for some reason:

Blurry Dinosaur's Blurry Dinosaur

I run my trays and all the smile loves dictionary;
I climb my rockets and all is cartwheel again.
(I dance I float you up inside my star.)

The celebrities go singing out in mangled and experienced,
And purple laptop plays in:
I read my book and all the alien swims frog.

I wrote that you flew me into tongue
And laugh me laughable, cryed me quite serious.
(I dance I float you up inside my star.)

lollipop debates from the traffic light, lamppost's mans jump:
fish child and car's woman:
I read my book and all the alien swims frog.

I dug you'd forget the way you make,
But I eat injured and I fry your skipping rope.
(I dance I float you up inside my star.)

I should have jostled a manuscript instead;
At least when bookstore hops they slither back again.
I read my book and all the alien swims frog.

(I dance I float you up inside my star.)

- Nikky & Sylvia Plath

I found the original (and much better) poem here:

Mad Girl's Love Song by Sylvia Plath"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

- Sylvia Plath

To add to the inundation of Board Games (pun not actually intended, but once made, liked), I will attempt a revival of the Mad Libs game which was wildly popular (in my own imagination), and therefore deserving of a second run (or third, if you cound the one on the old boards). This time, I'm going to select a short text (poem/prose), and ask you to give me some substitute words.

If you guess the original textand/or author at the end, you get....... an imaginary pie/orgy/pie orgy (whichever is most to your liking).

It's either one of those, or just some smiling admiration of your skill by the other members of the board, real or imagined (adulation, not board members).

I'll post the parts of speech shortly.

Here are the blanks to fill. Sorry there are so many - I didn't realise, but by the time I did, I decided not to let my hard work go to waste.

To get through it faster, you can put in 1-9 words each.
Please copy, paste, and bold the new entries (while un-bolding the previous entries).

Noun 1:
Noun 2 (plural):
Noun 3 (plural):
Noun 4 (plural):
Noun 5 (plural):
Noun 6 (uncountable):
Noun 7 (uncountable):
Noun 8 (plural):
Noun 9 (plural):
Noun 10:
Noun 11:
Noun 12:
Noun 13:
Noun 14 (plural):
Noun 15:

Adjective 1:
Adjective 2:
Adjective 3:
Adjective 4:
Adjective 5:

Pronoun 1:
Pronoun 2:

Verb 1 (done to other people):
Verb 2 (present simple):
Verb 3 (related to verb 2):
Verb 4 (infinitive):
Verb 5 (infinitive):
Verb 6:
Verb 7:

Noun 1:hang glider
Noun 2 (plural):
Noun 3 (plural):
Noun 4 (plural):
Noun 5 (plural):
Noun 6 (uncountable):
Noun 7 (uncountable):
Noun 8 (plural):torches
Noun 9 (plural):
Noun 10:
Noun 11:
Noun 12:nurse
Noun 13:
Noun 14 (plural):
Noun 15:

Adjective 1:green
Adjective 2:
Adjective 3:totally tartan
Adjective 4:
Adjective 5

Pronoun 1:
Pronoun 2:

Verb 1 (done to other people):harassed
Verb 2 (present simple):
Verb 3 (related to verb 2):
Verb 4 (infinitive):
Verb 5 (infinitive):
Verb 6:
Verb 7:

Nothing to see here...no errors have been edited in the original post and then erased as though they never existed at all...or anything sordid like that.

My last edit was just a quick covering note in case anything bad happened.
Apart from that, I don't know what anyone is talking about or when it didn't happen.

Just an example line from the text as it is currently (slightly modified to save it's identity)

"...nor can pronoun 1 verb 3 (related to verb 2) pronoun 2...."

I don't know why people don't write whole books in this style really.

To save people looking back through a couple of possibly confusing replies, this is the current entry.
Please copy, paste, and bold the new entries (while un-bolding the previous entries).