They could do anything they wanted to, if they just put their minds to it. There is a world where you are a faerie. I don't know if Iraq even existed in the Civil War Era! He even tried to hide the sword behind his back! Unless you have a digital camera, which are a symbol of freedom from the old ways and willing enslavement to the new ways. about my site, and called me weird. That's it, I'm gonna take drastic measures! We need to act now! So, that leads us to the evil paranoid conspiracy I thought of the other night. See, very weird. Isnt' that nice? That's what they need to do with the water. Every single person you know could just be figments of your imagination, you could even be in a crazy house! TACO will eventually destroy him. The whole thing. *sighs dramatically* I'm back. It looks right. And absolutly NO air-pressure. | 13.41 KB, JSON | I also would like such persons to immediatly leave my site. I'm sorry that my last few entries have been only about my various family antics. I can even see the shadow of my hand on the wall from the light those things shed. who keeps asking if you can hear him. I'll just have to do the very best that I can. If my sisteruhMrs. X were ever asked a question on the Civil War on a quiz show, she'd come up with nothing. Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. Ya know ya got ya ya girl ya ya know ya ya boy you got caught with them and then ya got a robot in the car with a car in your head that was the best dog ever and you can call me and call him when I wanna is it time I get off work I will see if I gotta I wanna is a time I got a ride truck truck ride and iiiuuyr. Wellany wayseeya! I have no problem with Lit. Guess what I wanna do. Fortunatly, my mom recently finnaly switched our snack food preference. If this was quality work, I'd publish it and make a fortune. 3,861 . I am now barophobic (afraid of gravity). Or maybe not. And then go door to door distributing it. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problemit's almost like a game! I've spent the past three years of my life EXPECTING each semester to be like a mini-year. -works best on pc/laptop. After all, I've been to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website over 50 times. How can any company that takes so many "wholesome" pictures not be? Creepy. Doesn't that just make you proud to be weird? Hello, everyone! And most people don't even come here. Now I'd better go and torture my Moose with it:) I am officially back. I better goI think Kodak is tracing my site.I'm back now! I don't WANT to do the same thing for an entire year. *cough*She's winning*cough* But that's just because I have so much to do to mantain and update this site, I rarely get a chance to just sit here and type. hello, I like to play Fortnite it is a really good game. Now you may be wondering what horrible beast is Moose's arch-enemy. MEOW!MEOW!MEOW! It's a sad, cold, cruel world out there and you had nothing to relieve the monotony of it. Once I got this computer, I decided to do something similar on my beloved site. No longer does school teach use reading, riting and 'rithmitic, it now teaches us ranting, raving and rambling! It'll be ready soon, ain't it great? I feel special. That must be it. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. And because she was the head fasion bimbo, everyone agreed that the look was definitly "in". Oh, yeah! Not only that, but there are an infinite number of different kinds of intelligent life. Unless, of course, the government was smart enough to have cameras without the blinkie light. It's not fair, ya know? May your day be shiney! Isn't vast a funny word? Oh, well. In you, I found love, a friend, a companion, a mother, a role model, a perfect human, in short, you're my total package. The 2.4 million words sentence is published in four volumes of Nigel Tomm's novel 'The Blah Story' (i.e., volumes 16, 17, 18 and 19). I sure am. Maybe you're lost. And hotand smoky. Or maybe it's notI meanwon't the quality *snicker* of my work deteriorate if I am no longer writing for the target audience of me? Would they dry into raisins? These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. Now, some of you are probably calling me a whiner, 'cause you have to get up at 4:30, or whatever. I'll probably have another one soon, but that whole water thing has been buggin me for awhile. *holds up a piece of paper, which, from a distance, appears to have writing on it* Yes, undenyable proof! Someone did something incredbly stupid, but because they were powerful, everone acted like it was a stroke of genius. When I related this story to my friends (including "Meg") they thought it was hilarious. A complete and total degregation of our societies values. Though the record has been broken, Faulkner's legacy lives on. DROOOOOL OVER MY MAGICAL POWERS!! I'll add that to the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK. (Absolutly nothing about that statement was sarcastic) As you can see, I love my families outings(Not unless you're blindor stupid) &#!#%&&!!! But, for a time, Faulkner took the run-on as far as it could go. Yesthat's rightsuicide. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. actually claim to be mentally ill. That's either a) a publicity stunt b) An attempt at humor c) a cry for help or d) none of the above You can e-mail your responses by conducting a scavenger hunt of this site. Remember, e-mail psopc@flaming-chickens.com the much needed suppliesif that is possible. Yes, it goes on and on my friend. Though the record has been broken, Faulkner's legacy lives on. *reader starts inching towards freedom* I better goI think that I may have a problem brewing. I'm back. Or suffer my blindingly moronic nail messages. It means that WAL-MART TV IS EVIL! BEWARE YOUR TOASTER OVEN! Goodbye! Perhaps, one day, far in the future, this will actually be a world record and random people will acutally voluntarily read this text every day. All rights reserved. *yet another highly dramatic, time-consuming sigh* I need a topic. OH, SO SPLENDID!! Plus, the fire gradually gets louder, and hotter, and smokier. *scrunches eyes and makes funny sounds* Nope. If you you don't have time to waste, what are you doing here?!!! Warning* Extremely long pasta. If you don't understand the concept of numbers less than zero, (negative numbers) just skip this part. I pity them, I really do. *sigh* I can't think of anything to write. And I hava a very, almost special rant for you. RANDOM PERSON: Uh-huh, that's nice. You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! TWEET. When I play a gambling game, there is a possibility that I'll lose everything, so I start on negative however much NP I have with me. By the way, TAB is a worthwhile, community-service organization. I'm allergic to parts of it, have irrational fears about others and I'm pretty sure it's against my Jenny religionalong with eating mashed potatoes, or potatoes of any kind. I only know that I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. I've been obsessed with various webcomics, creating the stupidly long new Phobia Quiz and being maniacly hysterical about my site always being down due to bandwith issues. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! I worked for four hours at the "Library of Terror" sponsered by TAB. Those few who actually could think and avoided the sun were considered to be outcasts. I wonder what it's name would be. That's right, a sword! I swear. Why am I writing? Using prior knowledge, I deduced that Mrs. X was full of crap. I'm bored. Today, I was checking out some weird news. But, act now, or it will be too late, and you will be one of the losers that we'll be laughing at, assuming we have air to laugh with. Because it is in those veyr colors that the Matrix is programmed! Or possibly rightthat would be scary. But this proof degrades this mysterious, mystical and mystifying "quality" of my words. Too bad. But wait! Unless he has already been destroyed by an even more radical Anti-Cartoon-Owl group. *there's that darn cricket again* And I have a genuine question to ask all of my loyal readers *cough-cough* Okay, here it is: Is it normal for a non-gender specific sibling to carry around various dead reptiles (snakes, turtles, lizards etc.) Soif you wish to contribute to this great and magneficent and magestic and MOOSEY projectwe need the following things: 739 rolls of aluminium foil (preferably the extra shiny kind) 417 refridgerator boxes, 9000 rolls of "sticky on both sides" duct tape, 300 lbs of chicken feathers (preferably white) and 1 (one) thermo-nuclear-rocket-thruster. So, I've decided that Moose works for some secret government organization, and that the feather is the key to the destruction of the world, and I am just blithely letting it enter our home, so that it may furthur its evil plans to destroy the universe. I am writing to let you know that I have received an email from {name of recipient}. I am going to start a protest group. There is a world where you are a faerie. But, maybe that's just the difference between you and me. By Ben Lee. you will all suffer as i have suffered when and if you graduate. Now I have decided to go for a world record. I salute those people. 1,288 words and many clauses make up the lengthy run-on phrase. Now is the time to mourn the loss of one of my most loyal readers (I think she's read the entire thing one time, which is more than anyone else has done so far) She has been banned from accesing any portion of the Internet, do to reasons that must remain confidental due to security reasons. Now I must take my leaveand remember. This sentence is the longest. At least it's over. Shoot them down like the dogs they are! and Jones: Sho, Kernel; sho now and catching him as he fell and commandeering the first passing wagon to take him to the house and carry him up the front steps and through the paintless formal door beneath its fanlight imported pane by pane from Europe which Judith held open for him to enter with no change, no alteration in that calm frozen face which she had worn for four years now, and on up the stairs and into the bedroom and put him to bed like a baby and then lie down himself on the floor beside the bed though not to sleep since before dawn the man on the bed would stir and groan and Jones would say, flyer I am, Kernel. HA! That's just silly. After much deliberation, she decided that she wouldn't eat. Sowhen the oracle said that the choice had already been made, she was completely correct. No one is really coming here, anyway. That makes me feel alll warm and fuzzy inside. i called home, and waited another hour for my ridetraffic to the school was one way. I wonder why anyone would read this? Cheese is watching. It feels unstoppable, and then it stops. Minerals added for a pure, fresh taste." That's right! I have to wonderwhy would Kodak do such a thing. While you wait for yesterday's tomorrow, lunge back and remember that day. Anyway, gotta go! I would have sold the monkey and the organ and been able to eat for at least a year. Molly's soliloquy is a touchstone for writers aiming to go long. First devised by professor William J. Rapaport in 1972, this notorious sentence plays on reduced relative clauses, different part-of-speech readings of the same word, and center embedding. Just exactly like Father if Father had known as much about it the night before I went out there as he did the day after I came back thinking Mad impotent old man who realized at last that there must be some limit even to the capabilities of a demon for doing harm, who must have seen his situation as that of the show girl, the pony, who realizes that the principal tune she prances to comes not from horn and fiddle and drum but from a clock and calendar, must have seen himself as the old wornout cannon which realizes that it can deliver just one more fierce shot and crumble to dust in its own furious blast and recoil, who looked about upon the scene which was still within his scope and compass and saw son gone, vanished, more insuperable to him now than if the son were dead since now (if the son still lived) his name would be different and those to call him by it strangers and whatever dragons outcropping of Sutpen blood the son might sow on the body of whatever strange woman would therefore carry on the tradition, accomplish the hereditary evil and harm under another name and upon and among people who will never have heard the right one; daughter doomed to spinsterhood who had chosen spinsterhood already before there was anyone named Charles Bon since the aunt who came to succor her in bereavement and sorrow found neither but instead that calm absolutely impenetrable face between a homespun dress and sunbonnet seen before a closed door and again in a cloudy swirl of chickens while Jones was building the coffin and which she wore during the next year while the aunt lived there and the three women wove their own garments and raised their own food and cut the wood they cooked it with (excusing what help they had from Jones who lived with his granddaughter in the abandoned fishing camp with its collapsing roof and rotting porch against which the rusty scythe which Sutpen was to lend him, make him borrow to cut away the weeds from the door-and at last forced him to use though not to cut weeds, at least not vegetable weeds -would lean for two years) and wore still after the aunts indignation had swept her back to town to live on stolen garden truck and out o f anonymous baskets left on her front steps at night, the three of them, the two daughters negro and white and the aunt twelve miles away watching from her distance as the two daughters watched from theirs the old demon, the ancient varicose and despairing Faustus fling his final main now with the Creditors hand already on his shoulder, running his little country store now for his bread and meat, haggling tediously over nickels and dimes with rapacious and poverty-stricken whites and negroes, who at one time could have galloped for ten miles in any direction without crossing his own boundary, using out of his meagre stock the cheap ribbons and beads and the stale violently-colored candy with which even an old man can seduce a fifteen-year-old country girl, to ruin the granddaughter o f his partner, this Jones-this gangling malaria-ridden white man whom he had given permission fourteen years ago to squat in the abandoned fishing camp with the year-old grandchild-Jones, partner porter and clerk who at the demons command removed with his own hand (and maybe delivered too) from the showcase the candy beads and ribbons, measured the very cloth from which Judith (who had not been bereaved and did not mourn) helped the granddaughter to fashion a dress to walk past the lounging men in, the side-looking and the tongues, until her increasing belly taught her embarrassment-or perhaps fear;-Jones who before 61 had not even been allowed to approach the front of the house and who during the next four years got no nearer than the kitchen door and that only when he brought the game and fish and vegetables on which the seducer-to-bes wife and daughter (and Clytie too, the one remaining servant, negro, the one who would forbid him to pass the kitchen door with what he brought) depended on to keep life in them, but who now entered the house itself on the (quite frequent now) afternoons when the demon would suddenly curse the store empty of customers and lock the door and repair to the rear and in the same tone in which he used to address his orderly or even his house servants when he had them (and in which he doubtless ordered Jones to fetch from the showcase the ribbons and beads and candy) direct Jones to fetch the jug, the two of them (and Jones even sitting now who in the old days, the old dead Sunday afternoons of monotonous peace which they spent beneath the scuppernong arbor in the back yard, the demon lying in the hammock while Jones squatted against a post, rising from time to time to pour for the demon from the demijohn and the bucket of spring water which he had fetched from the spring more than a mile away then squatting again, chortling and chuckling and saying `Sho, Mister Tawm each time the demon paused)-the two of them drinking turn and turn about from the jug and the demon not lying down now nor even sitting but reaching after the third or second drink that old mans state of impotent and furious undefeat in which he would rise, swaying and plunging and shouting for his horse and pistols to ride single-handed into Washington and shoot Lincoln (a year or so too late here) and Sherman both, shouting, Kill them! It's not like I have anything better to do. The answer is still infinity. It was inspired, in part, by my sheer and utter boredom. | 0.79 KB, JSON | You're still here, which must mean that you'd rather be here than anywhere else! I'm leaving. For an ENTIRE MONTH I have possesed the arcane knowledge, but I forgot to share it with you, my loyal potentially imaginary reader. In any case, my theory means that playing video games is very cruel. I probably won't later. Come on, I won't hurt you, I promise! A man has been recorded spending more than three hours to pronounce what is supposedly the longest word in the English language . Why on earth would we go have way across the world to fight them when we didn't even really need oil?!! It's okay. I knowyou are as shocked as I am. I can work with mistrust. that was recognised in the 1983 Guinness Book of World Records was the longest ever written. Time for another quote from the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK!!! And they pushed my toes together. And I sugest that we build the rocket so that we can go to the Official Flaming Chickens Lunar Colony so that we can laugh at the stupid earthlings who are blowing up because they didn't listen to us when we tried to warn them about the impending doom!
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