The Backstory:

Last week, FOG had a Mad Lib Contest where I took out several key elements of a story and asked you to replace them. The story is one I wrote called The Spanish Main, which happens to be the most researched story on this whole blog (which isn’t saying much). It’s about pirates! For the contest, I used part of the first paragraph, which originally read as follows:

Reluctant to pay the primage to a Spaniard, wearing long clothes no less, the Captain held the coins in his hand for longer than necessary. Even though he was a pirate, there were some things that you just couldn’t plunder. The Devil’s Daughter had docked at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Darién for three days now, repairing the bulwark that had been damaged in the last fray and acquiring supplies. The Captain eyed the new bulwark and was pleased with the results. “She’s worth the pieces of eight,” he said, trying to convince himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, gold coins to the Spanish sutler.

I took the liberty of putting in the correct forms and tenses since that was my fault. I asked for a past tense verb when I wanted just a verb and I asked for a singular noun when I wanted plural.

I know I said I would pick a winner, but seriously, you guys made it way too hard on me. These are all hilarious. I think I might need some help. Please leave a comment and let me know which you think is the funniest. And yes, you’re welcome to vote for yourself. I’ll decide the winner tomorrow. Here are the results in the order in which they were entered. Good job everyone!

The Results:

buckwheatsrisk

Reluctant to pay the boobs to a proctologist, wearing scary theater no less, the Captain held the toe in his china for longer than necessary. Even though he was a nurse, there were some things that you just couldn’t bend. The Engalbart’s Kleenex had succumbed at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Sexy for three days now, hanging the toilet paper that had been hobbled in the last hand and acquiring brides. The Captain ate the new toilet paper and was hyper with the dog. “She’s duck!,” he said, trying to jump himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, ugly cups to the saggy proctologist.

Never hand your ugly cups to a saggy proctologist. Especially not one in the Isthmus of Sexy.

rarasaur

Reluctant to pay the cat to a coaster, wearing furry doorknobs no less, the Captain held the gnome in his clarinet for longer than necessary. Even though he was a cape, there were some things that you just couldn’t roll. The Gloria Estefan’s Grouch had dusted at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Sleepy for three days now, gambling the bike that had been roped in the last fireplace and acquiring toes. The Captain loved the new bike and was painful with the mask. “She’s jinkies!,” he said, trying to pet himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, fiery roses to the feathery coaster.

My, the Gloria Estefan’s Grouch is fine looking ship.

Kozo

Reluctant to pay the Jedi Knight to a platypus, wearing fishy Buddhahead no less, the Captain held the penis in his brothel for longer than necessary. Even though he was a vibrator, there were some things that you just couldn’t swallow. The Dalai Lama’s Rock Band had hooked at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Miniscule for three days now, peeing the heroin that had been gagged in the last probation officer and acquiring pacifiers. The Captain enlightened the new heroin and was holy with the blogger. “She’s Shit-ake Mushrooms!,” he said, trying to eject himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, lascivious munchkins to the defunct platypus.

Peeing the heroin sounds painful.

Blathering

Reluctant to pay the potato to a vomit, wearing potatoey cauldron no less, the Captain held the idiot in his anxiety for longer than necessary. Even though he was an impracticality, there were some things that you just couldn’t bluster. The Chuckles McFluster’s Curiosity had potatoed at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Idiotic for three days now, slithering the highway that had been personified in the last dismay and acquiring soapboxes. The Captain slipped the new highway and was slippery with the sound. “She’s zoinks!,” he said, trying to pop himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, hopeful galaxies to the exorbitant vomit.

If the exorbitant vomit does not want your hopeful galaxies, I’ll take them.

kirstenhwhyte

Reluctant to pay the Santa to a sleigh, wearing jolly elves no less, the Captain held the reindeer in his wife for longer than necessary. Even though he was a present, there were some things that you just couldn’t love. The Mrs. Claus’s Snow had laughed at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Rotund for three days now, rolling the jingle bell that had been loved in the last holly and acquiring mistletoe. The Captain kissed the new jingle bell and was perfect with the Christmas. “She’s good grief!,” he said, trying to delight himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, handsome turkeys to the shiny sleigh.

He held the reindeer in his wife? Oh my!

apprenticenevermaster

Reluctant to pay the cowboy to a diamond, wearing riveting forks no less, the Captain held the love letter in his earthquake for longer than necessary. Even though he was a rack of discount lederhosen, there were some things that you just couldn’t sprinkle. The Batman’s Dog had drove at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Moldy for three days now, spooning the French fry that had been laughed in the last grandfather and acquiring blue crab. The Captain fought the new French fry and was blissful with the roller skate. “She’s I resent that!,” he said, trying to chew out himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, cracked sacks of cats to the rumbly diamond.

I hope to be a discount rack of lederhosen one day so that I can’t sprinkle. A girl can dream.

Dee-lightful Musings of an Old Country Woman

Reluctant to pay the whisker to a foot fungus, wearing mighty peanuts no less, the Captain held the bicycle in his cuspidor for longer than necessary. Even though he was a cookie jar, there were some things that you just couldn’t bite. The Evelyn’s Age Spot had picked at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Silky for three days now, brushing the roadster that had been parted in the last church and acquiring mushrooms. The Captain washed the new roadster and was repulsive with the strap. “She’s hallelujah!,” he said, trying to slide himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, slimy dingoes to the astronomical foot fungus.

You better have that astronomical foot fungus looked after.

C. R.

Reluctant to pay the rubber ducky to a Stonehenge, wearing oily Oprah no less, the Captain held the shoe box in his toe nails for longer than necessary. Even though he was a hell, there were some things that you just couldn’t hop. The Paige Turner’s Doorknob had milked at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Prickly for three days now, waiting the baby wipes that had been watched in the last booger and acquiring The Pope. The Captain shat the new baby wipes and was bumpy with the home. “She’s shazam!,” he said, trying to split himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, fearful Slinkys to the mighty Stonehenge.

You may only acquire The Pope after you baby wipe the last booger.

Doggy’s Style

Reluctant to pay the wart to a cheek, wearing caring knees no less, the Captain held the stocking in his calculator for longer than necessary. Even though he was an arsenic, there were some things that you just couldn’t slobber. The Olga’s Spoon had abhorred at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Tender for three days now, sucking the cod liver oil that had been curled in the last IUD and acquiring deeps. The Captain tingled the new cod liver oil and was daring with the wine. “She’s harder!,” he said, trying to sip himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, feisty freckles to the dreaded cheek.

I’m known to be daring with the wine sometimes, too.

jrosenberry1

Reluctant to pay the jukebox to a nutcracker, wearing flabbergasted tornadoes no less, the Captain held the pirate in his laptop for longer than necessary. Even though he was a microbus, there were some things that you just couldn’t yodel. The Jim-Bob’s Biscuit had boinked at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Moldy for three days now, vacuuming the butter that had been spooned in the last marmalade and acquiring toadstools. The Captain licked the new butter and was hairy with the bandito. “She’s shazam!,” he said, trying to slobber himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, squeaky schnauzers to the flaky nutcracker.

How does one wear flabbergasted tornadoes exactly?

aliceatwonderland

Reluctant to pay the penguin to a toilet, wearing freaky asphalt no less, the Captain held the nun in his Santa’s secret shop for longer than necessary. Even though he was a dung beetle, there were some things that you just couldn’t bounce. The Pope’s Person had screwed at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Gooey for three days now, punching the place that had been thrown in the last thing and acquiring fairy princesses. The Captain obliterated the new place and was whimsical with the unicorn. “She’s fuckballs!,” he said, trying to mutilate himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, asshat munchkins to the punctual toilet.

If there’s one quality I require in my toilets, it’s punctuality, even if they are wearing freaky asphalt.

sha’tashari

Reluctant to pay the pickle to a chair, wearing furry shoes no less, the Captain held the towel in his bean for longer than necessary. Even though he was a pen, there were some things that you just couldn’t fly. The Robert’s Homework had ran at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Hard for three days now, sneezing the glass that had been talked in the last floor and acquiring photos. The Captain planted the new glass and was fancy with the germs. “She’s oh!,” he said, trying to hop himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, gritty songs to the hard chair.

I’m very fancy with the germs myself.

ruleofstupid

Reluctant to pay the kumquat to a cress sandwich, wearing transcendent ears no less, the Captain held the nun in his rubber glove for longer than necessary. Even though he was a penguin, there were some things that you just couldn’t limp. The Mutley’s Guillemot had trembled at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Bilious for three days now, fluttering the rolling-pin that had been cartwheeled in the last elastic band and acquiring fence-posts. The Captain licked the new rolling-pin and was voluminous with the sewing machine. “She’s gadzooks!,” he said, trying to gush himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, crumbly milk carts to the battered cress sandwich.

Remind me never to visit the Isthmus of Bilious.

twindaddy

Reluctant to pay the excrement to a nipple clamp, wearing hairy chastity belts no less, the Captain held the nose hair in his skid mark for longer than necessary. Even though he was a vomit, there were some things that you just couldn’t conjugate. The Phil McGroin’s Pit Stain had sucked at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Ignorant for three days now, defecating the banana hammock that had been clinched in the last left butt cheek and acquiring adult diapers. The Captain farted the new banana hammock and was sexy with the stink bomb. “She’s holy scheicky!,” he said, trying to fornicate himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, rancid grannie panties to the unclean nipple clamp.

It’s true. There are some things that you just can’t conjugate.

SousEtoiles

Reluctant to pay the wombat to a pirate, wearing janky receptacles no less, the Captain held the fungus in his iPhone for longer than necessary. Even though he was a literature, there were some things that you just couldn’t swim. The RaShaNae’s Nail had screamed at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Ugly for three days now, skipping the movie that had been danced in the last ring and acquiring jazz. The Captain ate the new movie and was aggressive with the cloud. “She’s WHAT?!,” he said, trying to die himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, smoky guitars to the clean pirate.

Janky receptacles are the worst kind of receptacles.

Bridgette

Reluctant to pay the cookie to a dog, wearing sadistic bookmarks no less, the Captain held the breakfast in his earring for longer than necessary. Even though he was a Marcus Welby book, there were some things that you just couldn’t eat. The Bridgette’s Bed had wept at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Foolish for three days now, dancing the tote that had been offered in the last crocheted panty and acquiring boots. The Captain laughed the new tote and was shiny with the buffet. “She’s BLAST!,” he said, trying to burn himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, delicious sandwiches to the hypocondrichal dog.

Why so sad, Bridgette’s Bed?

Burning Prose

Reluctant to pay the scrod to an ape, wearing haughty widgets no less, the Captain held the bauble in his scrimshaw for longer than necessary. Even though he was a booger, there were some things that you just couldn’t yank. The Gomer’s Angst had runned at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Hinky for three days now, hankeringing the ennui that had been hicked in the last ethos and acquiring lummox. The Captain bawled the new ennui and was false with the respibble. “She’s goddammit!,” he said, trying to engrave himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, salty gibbets to the sweet ape.

I can’t stand people who are false with their respibbles.

Robert-preneur

Reluctant to pay the sasquatch to a babysitter, wearing impervious Venus fly traps no less, the Captain held the tooth paste in his lump for longer than necessary. Even though he was a counselor, there were some things that you just couldn’t gargle. The Smittywerbenjagermanjensen’s Stethescope had installed at Portobelo in the Isthmus of Contorted for three days now, poking the uranium that had been hand-stitched in the last raccoon and acquiring sushi. The Captain was flapping the new uranium and was magic with the fur ball. “She’s smokin’ Zeus boogers!,” he said, trying to gyrate himself as he reluctantly handed the tinkling, smelly pickles to the shiny babysitter.

I really wouldn’t recommend poking the uranium.