Out of the 722 songs, photos, drawings, videos and stories I've contributed here in the last four years...here are the ones I'm most proud of!
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An interchange about a catflap using made up words for the BYOW collab
The Day Morgan M. Morganesen’s Luck Changed
Morgan M. Morgansen was a capricitious califrag, who spent his earthspins pludgeoning paff-kaff to the zombicular skaks of suburban Sellosedge. Griff and grubby were his hourbags, his beatdown brainbox long since birged of any selicity or saxifrage. To Morgan Morgansen, the afternow looked lacklustrous.
One wetsky prenoon, as Mister Morgansen glazed out the hardclear from his paff-kaff wareroom, a personette florayed floriciously through the wallhole.
“I am in necessitude of an in-out for my lionette”. She said, laviciously.
Morgan M. Morgansen was butterflated by this bambistic belle. He tuttered his sayback;
“C…c..certituitously we have a polybank of purrpet paff-kaff!”
The personette liplifted and a sheen shone in her see-globes causing Morgan to pinkify pan-porally. He jibbed himself out of it and postceeded to apparate the preferated paff-kaff.
The primular in-out was proclamated to be too minicular for the specicated lionette, so Morgan unhid another with enplussed enormitude.
“It is a lionette I subtude not a lion!” proclamated the personette, with a babettish snorgle-flit.
Morgan’s topbulb slooped, shamily.
“But that was the ultimator of my purrpet in-outs”
His see-globes halfshut, slittish and he stroked his undermouth with his personpaw.
“I have a brainbaby!” Morgan proclamated. “Do you have an unlocker for your wallhole?”
The personette shook a yes with her topbulb and personpawed the unlocker to Morgan.
Morgan scittered over to the cloner and twin-ified the unlocker. He repawed the twinned unlockers to the personette and liplifted.
The personette liplifted back.
“Yazee!! Sublimo!! My purrpet will be most selicitous to freeflit out and in as he whims! How can I graciate you?”
Morgan repinkified and tuttered;
“Mightbe you could duette me to an eatnight some nearday?”
The personette flib-flabbed her see-globe hairs and resaid, laviciously.
“Why that would be most saxifragous, Mister Morgansen.”
She pawed him her infosquare and florayed out the wallhole, her backcushions slooving and slauving as she went, leaving Morgan Morgansen pinkified, habberdashed.
For once, Morgan Morgansen was capacitated with selicity and saxifrage for the afternow, his minicular lifebasket finally jubbed up with jollitude.
As for the lionette, from that earthspin on, he inned and outed as he desirated, imbeebed with flurritude for his newfound accessity and infinitously jamsacked with gracity to the Einsteinic brainbox of Morgan M. Morgansen.
A second part to my made-up-word story about the rosemantic endeavours of a character called Morgan M. Morgansen.
Morgan M. Morgansen
Morgan M. Morgansen’s Date with Destiny
Capricitous califrag Morgan M. Morgansen stood in the longroom of his fourwalls, narcissising himself in the doubleglass. He horizontalized his neckbow and let a long stream of air out of his facehole. He was ready to lothariate. Or at least, ready as he’d ever be.
The eatroom was all ashadow with the tiny flames of waxsticks. Our man Morgan unstood onto a personholder and waited as the timeteller ticked and tocked on.
Tardily, the saxifragous personette swavered through the wallhole. Her headfront was polypainted with fauxface; lips cherried to the max, see-globe hairs enplussed to twin the limbs of arachnomonsters.
Morgan liplifted, twittery at the personette. He re-stood and presented her with a personholder, upon which she speedily settled her backcushions.
“Merry pre-night” tittered Morgan. “You look verily procreational”.
“Why thank you triple M. As do you. Soaped and suited, you are quite the see-treat”
Morgan pinkified as the foodbringer apparated, penguin-dressed. The gent was simply seeable as a skog – his downlooking headfront formed as if he ever had a facehole full of sour-yellows. The eatroom paidslave personpawed a duo of eatlists to Morgan and the personette, then disapparated.
The potential procreators see-globe-scanned the eatlists chatlessly. They picked their eatplates and the foodbringer reapparated, primularly enquesting Morgan on his desirated eatplate.
“For me, the body of a bunnybaby, if you please!” Morgan proclamates.
“And how would you preferate your bunnybaby, sir; black, brown or bleedy?”
“Bleedy please” Morgan worded.
He liplifted at the foodbringer and then targeted his see-globes at the personette. He was shook to see her see-globes dripping a little saltliquid.
“And for you, personette?” enquested the foodpenguin.
Blub-hiding she unquested “The herbivorous option for me.”
Morgan spitswallowed and loosed the topflaps of his chest coverer.
The foodbringer held in a snorgle-flit and worded “And for wet?”
“For liquid we will have the juice of old red grapes please. Very old” Morgan speedily shut a solo see-globe at the foodbringer. The foodpenguin boomeranged the gesture then disapparated with a smise.
After another chatless wordgap, the eats apparated. The foodpenguin citrusly unhid Morgan’s eatplate. On it unlived the corpse of a bunnybaby, its minicular rabbitears as yet unremoved, its olfactory-organ buttonish and evercute.
The personette yeuched loudly, a puddle of pre-puke ascending into her facehole as the eatready fluffpet met her see-globes.
The personette’s eats were a plateforest, a feast of foliage, a fleshless foodpile.
Morgan geishily sub-servietted the bereaved bunny and postceeded to chomp the accessorical greenery duetting it. The personette liplifted, amourated by Morgan’s sacrificious herbivorosity.
Post-bunny-boycott, the wordgaps filled fastly. The personette flirtated laviciously and tilted Morganwards, displaying her frontcushions bashlessly. Morgan was fullheart butterflated by this floricious femalian. Habberdashed and hornified he tittered as she toetangled with him sub-table.
Speedily they slurped the grape-liquid and soonly, their personpaws paired tableside, glowed by the flamey waxsticks.
Foodbags full, they monied the foodpenguin and uprighted themselves. The personette had desirated to subvide the debt but Morgan M. Morgansen swayed his topbulb pendulemically ‘no’ and that was that.
Out in the no-walls, the duet locked see-globes, topbulb-deep in procreational emotation. The personette touched her bottomlip with her topchompers and tilted Morganwards once more. Morgan pinkified, shut his see-globe covers and vicinitated his topbulb to the personette’s facehole.
An ultimated tilt Morganwords and the pair were liplocked. Morgan M. Morgansen almost lovesploded with butterflation as the floricious femalian tonguetangled with him.
Through the hardclear of the eatroom, the formerly falsituous foodpenguin lifted his citrus lips at the passion-paired persons. How could a humanian fail to be emotated by such a celebratious encoupling?
And that moon-up, when Morgan M. Morgansen horizontalised himself on his sleep platform, for once, it was not alonely.
The saga continues.......
Twas a shinybright earthspin, and the upover was a sheeny, cobaltic bluefest. High uptop the bigsmoke, the zeppelin zoo whished through the geogas. It was a baloonic ark, a sky-safari, and extrafactily, on this specicated earthspin, it was the dateplace for our man Morgan M. Morgansen and his lovebuddy, Destiny.
The passionpair lovestrolled through the animalium, pawtangled. Their see-globes met flit-tweets barlocked, finbeasts tanked and primates prisonized. Destiny superlated the snuffalunks, lollified the longnecks and rapturized the blackmasked rarebears as they bamboozled.
Baghidden in Destiny’s pawpouch, Madame Ballofur, Destiny’s pamperfied purrpet, see-peeped overbag, then re-snuggled bagwards, disimpressed.
The lovebuddies proximated themselves to ‘Rarebears Treatbuggy’. And there, costumated as a monochromic rarebear, stood the foodpenguin, lemonfaced as ever.
The duo partook in a pair of pinkfluff-pops. Destiny masticated her sugarstick saxifragously, leaving Morgan habberdashed. So hornified was he that he was blinkerfied to the slinkish arrivement of Lionel; Destiny's pre-now lovebuddy and a cognified smarmorific lothariator.
Morgan spit-swallowed at the sight of this regalite, this masculate heartstealer. Destiny’s see-globes frizzled sparklish as she permissed this Lionel to liplock her personpaw smarmily.
Oh he was a brazeful and bashless califrag this one, a testosteronic alphabeast, a maxified and magnificious Morgan mimic!
Morgan was shockshook out of his glaze by a “Yeeek!!” from a flabbergastic Destiny. Madame Ballofur had dissapparated, fleed the refugous innards of Destiny’s pawpouch and gone cat-about!
“Oh tragedous, wronghap! woed Destiny. “What uber-humalian, what alphaknight will revicinitate my flitulous fluff-friend?”
The be-stached suitors locked squintish see-globes, duel-bound.
The competing califrags seeked up and downish for the cutish catcritter. Lionel dove and dashed while Morgan creeped and purrcalled. But the perduous purrpet was noplace to be see-globed.
Lucklacking, Morgan slomped, downbeat onto a longtree personholder, aside the foodpenguin, who so happed to be on his workgap. The gent was chomping a speary eatstick, a Mousecub-kebab of impaled fieldfurries, their pinkeyes, scarestuck, their ringlet tailstrings rigormortised.
Morgan hammocked his topbulb in his personpaws, and let a long stream of air out of his facehole.
“I see your perduous purrpet has enbuddied the purrbeast” benefacted the foodpenguin, a tailstring twingling betwixt his citrus lips.
Sure as earthspins, there, in the bigmaned purrbeasts barbox, was Madame Ballofur, cutish snoogled under the purrbeast’s enormopaw and jubbified to the max.
As Morgan fastly vicinitated himself to the barbox for his fluff-freeing feat, Lionel apparated, duel-ready. Bashless, the malsuitor uprolled his arm coverers and brawl-begged.
Someplace a dinger dinged and the leisurespot hencecame a duellish painpit.
The prized personette apparated. Her tumbox tumbled at the see-shock of her pre and present lovebuddies bashbrawning while her fluff-friend remained catnapped.
“Anyperson, deperilize my poorly purrpet” she worded, pleady.
The flabgabbets fapslapped, duckdove and flee-jigged, slam-bammed, limb-cranked and flankyanked, pridelocked in their duelling dance. Outmuscled, Morgan was fastly grounded. The opportunous Lionel backstepped, primed for a grandslam.
Sametime, the geishily pro-Morgan food’panda’ fastflung his yeuchstick into Lionel’s painpath.
Mid-murderous lurch, Lionel sillyslipped on the foody-trap sending the mousemorsels skygliding into the purrbeast’s barbox! Lionel yeeked, girlish, as he upfooted, then downslammed. (Gogglebirds tweeted circlish round Lionel’s dazed headfront.)
Morgan uprighted himself, pummelpuffed. He fastglance spied that the bigmaned junglegiant was now divertously nomming the catapultous yeuchtreat. The purrpet was guardless!
Morgan chest-puffed and perilpared himself. Destiny lash-flapped, butterflated, as her true alphaknight shimmied the barbox .
Our daysaver slinked into the dangerden and, padsoft, toe-stepped petwards. He pawscooped Madame Ballofur into his toplimbs and fastly exit-aimed.
Still groundbound, that dastardly dipstick, Lionel, catcalled, diverting the junglebeast from his eatbait and vectorizing his feline see-globes to our man Morgan!
Morgan fastfooted safewards, supernormal speedish, the agrowled purrmonster yappish at his leg-ends.
Destiny masked her see-globes with a personpaw, too tumtangled to spectize.
In an awefeat of wowness, Morgan springpulted somersaultish and downdropped to the safe and sound, with Madame Ballofur tightlocked underlimb.
Destiny quickish snoogled her freed fluff-friend then angled, bambi-eyed, Morganwards. Her headfront was awash with apprecious butterflation and fullheart lovelust.
Lionel, diminuated, and ungruntled, his alphastate debunked, slinked into the noplace, selfsaying some gibberjack about an afternow vengement.
Madame Ballofur frisbeed an infosquare to the blubtrolling junglegiant. The enormokitten liplifted - jubilated to have acquainted this new purrpal.
Destiny snooglebroke, suddenish and touched her bottom lip with her topchompers.
“Morgan M. Morgansen, you are my solo lovebuddy, my butterflative manpet, my testosteronic alphaknight!”
Morgan pinkified at this linguistic lovepouring, then fullface liplocked his lovebuddy.
Morgan shut a solo see-globe at the panda-dressed pro-pair person. The foodbringer liplifted, recapitated his rarebear headcover and disapparated, leaving the lovejoined duo to consommize their recoupling.
And, as the great balloonic ark whished upover the skags of suburban Sellosedge, little did they comprend that this enormoblimp entained not only a plethora of rarepets, but also, a duet of the most felicitous persons in the fullglobe infinispace; Morgan M. Morgansen, and his Destiny.
In the pale light of midnight I tried to take flight
But my wings were too weak and the stars were too bright
So I waited a week til the winter winds blew
Stars were shrouded in clouds and the moon was too
Not a thing alive witnessed my wings unfold
As my breath grew quick and my heart grew bold
And soon I was soaring, oh, upwards and on
Til the sky was all ‘round and the ground was gone
And I watched as each object, each person, each place
Became one glowing orb spinning slowly in space
And I thought to myself, ‘through the eyes of a bird
This life and this Earth seem entirely absurd’
Then I suddenly felt indescribably small
And wondered if anything mattered at all
Like what people wished for or what people felt
Or whether the ice caps would finally melt
Then, I realized, after an hour or two
That things matter, because, they matter to you
Although what you do won’t change much from up here
It can comfort or crush those you find yourself near
This universe may be enormous and strange
But look close to home and there’s much you can change
And now that I know it, that’s just what I’ll do
Informed and enthused by my new point of view
It seems that such questions as grand as existence
Can only be solved from a reasonable distance
This fellow called Fred,
And the children would jeer,
Twas a troublesome sight,
So to stem the surprise,
Then he drove into town,
A terrible crash,
The moral herein,
So parade them with pride,
(As told by an old man to a young boy - kid's dialogue in italics)
Let me tell you a very old story about a land far, far away, a land that once went by the name of ‘Splitdownthemiddlia.’ You know why they called it that?