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Quoted By: >>3587285
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZlLMyU6yuw
>Be Deprived Plymouth
>Be Phillip Buttscotch
>Phillip Buttscotch had always loved deprived Plymouth with its wet, worried waters. It was a place where he felt happy.
>He was a snotty, brutal, whiskey drinker with sloppy fingers and fat moles.
>His friends saw him as a vacant, vigilant vicar.
>Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a fine baby. That's the sort of man he was.
>Phillip walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. The wind blew like gyrating maggots.
>Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ocean Clifford.
>Ocean was a predatory painter with charming fingers and beautiful moles.
>Phillip gulped. He was not prepared for Ocean.
>As Phillip stepped outside and Ocean came closer, he could see the cruel smile on her face.
>"I am here because I want revenge," Ocean bellowed, in a gracious tone. She slammed her fist against Phillip's chest, with the force of 7519 hamsters. "I frigging hate you, Phillip Buttscotch."
>Phillip looked back, even more puzzled and still fingering the damp guillotine. "Ocean, you must think I was born-yesterday," he replied.
>They looked at each other with relaxed feelings, like two eggy, elated elephants partying at a very popular Valentine's meal, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two vile uncles hopping to the beat.
>Phillip studied Ocean's charming fingers and beautiful moles. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you revenge," he explained, in pitying tones.
>Ocean looked calm, her body raw like a kaleidoscopic, keen knife.
>Phillip could actually hear Ocean's body shatter into 7309 pieces. Then the predatory painter hurried away into the distance.
>Not even a glass of whiskey would calm Phillip's nerves tonight.
The best stories, are those created by bots.
If you wish to see their masterpieces for yourself, look alive: https://www.plot-generator.org.uk/story/
>Be Deprived Plymouth
>Be Phillip Buttscotch
>Phillip Buttscotch had always loved deprived Plymouth with its wet, worried waters. It was a place where he felt happy.
>He was a snotty, brutal, whiskey drinker with sloppy fingers and fat moles.
>His friends saw him as a vacant, vigilant vicar.
>Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a fine baby. That's the sort of man he was.
>Phillip walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. The wind blew like gyrating maggots.
>Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ocean Clifford.
>Ocean was a predatory painter with charming fingers and beautiful moles.
>Phillip gulped. He was not prepared for Ocean.
>As Phillip stepped outside and Ocean came closer, he could see the cruel smile on her face.
>"I am here because I want revenge," Ocean bellowed, in a gracious tone. She slammed her fist against Phillip's chest, with the force of 7519 hamsters. "I frigging hate you, Phillip Buttscotch."
>Phillip looked back, even more puzzled and still fingering the damp guillotine. "Ocean, you must think I was born-yesterday," he replied.
>They looked at each other with relaxed feelings, like two eggy, elated elephants partying at a very popular Valentine's meal, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two vile uncles hopping to the beat.
>Phillip studied Ocean's charming fingers and beautiful moles. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you revenge," he explained, in pitying tones.
>Ocean looked calm, her body raw like a kaleidoscopic, keen knife.
>Phillip could actually hear Ocean's body shatter into 7309 pieces. Then the predatory painter hurried away into the distance.
>Not even a glass of whiskey would calm Phillip's nerves tonight.
The best stories, are those created by bots.
If you wish to see their masterpieces for yourself, look alive: https://www.plot-generator.org.uk/story/
