crazy english

The following bits of great literature came into being on the Oklahoma Christian University "Singing Campaign" of June 2001. Several of us were playing a language game in which each player contributes a part of a sentence without knowing what the other players are contributing. As in:

Player A contributes a subject ("The handcuffs"),
Player B contributes a verb ("gargled"),
Player C contributes an object ("pimentos"),
and Player D contributes an adverb ("symbiotically").

Players may add other adverbs, adverbial phrases, adjectives, and so forth, as long as the structure of the sentence remains intact. Here are some sentences that came together in strange ways on that starlit night so long ago:

A blunt elephant awakens delicately.

4,000,362 slimy heifers bebop coke repeatedly.

The juicy squirrels rang manure radically.

Some magical Martians snorted river cautiously.

Your mama’s shrunken sludge dances vomit lovingly.

The Saran-wrapped amoeba strangled fever blisters.

Its unwilling dough wore pimples authoritatively.

Mike’s infected Thumbelina impaled puppies slowly.

My swollen blue suede shoes defecated coconuts.

April’s peanut butter jar beheld toxic waste creepingly.

With blackest moss, the other Deutschmark stabbed Romanoffs with ease.

Thy radical snot gulped hamsters alluringly.

Rupert’s clairvoyant slug plucked tongues boldly.

Satan’s slutty cheese cake slurped turtles on the highest rooftops.

Surprisingly enough, our milky busts curtsied pustules right on task.

Tomorrow, flamboyant lace will flatulate kabobs happily.

Russia’s flat hairballs created toilet tingling.

The parole violators’ amazed horny toad blew rafters with great linguistic skill.

On the poop deck, our objective booty crushed dried linguini like a goose in heat.

Eight crunchy handkerchiefs serenade egg drop soup like redneck Olympics.

With the absolute possibility, spoonlike cowboys cut snot rockets while smelling like a stinky tube sock.

Unbeknownst to us, many underground headless horsemen slammed bellybutton lint so well, it would’ve made you cry.

Like sands in the hour glass, strikingly handsome mold slaughtered jazz hands while dancing like a 5-year-old on purple crack.

by April Wooldridge, Courtney Cantrell, Matt Barger, Mike Antwine, and others, June 2001.