Re: Simple 'one word' story game....
The rabies began eating me after the pirate orgy, which was the best viral infection I synthesised, whilst my Asian stepfather touched his black son's stolen micro-film. Afterwards the bike lock suddenly magically transformed the wheels into apple trees. As Cena grabbed furiously onto Vince's stick, the aroma overpoweringly made Triple HHH become increasingly horny. Twenty of the jobbers poured hot diarrhoea all over themselves repeatedly until one of them felt like they wanted novocaine up their, already gaping, assholes. My dream of LSD Ponies ejaculating rainbows onto babies came flooding back into my minds eye.
Exiting the locker-room, Lesnar wiped the sweat off my face and asked me for advice about our tag match. I told him to just keep his game because when facing Slater and his strongest stablemate, THE SHOCKMASTER, we must be wary of their manager, BIG POPPA PUMP. He will cry about the fact that your tan-lines humorously resemble Triple H's nose.
Our music started playing. My mind still elsewhere, I headed for the ring. The match was going to determine the next GMs of Raw and SmackDown. I decided not to think about the hallucination provided by Lesnar's huge zebra-pattern underwear. Nervously, I licked my ice cream cone. "CM Punk" was written on a replica nexus pencil AND on the ice cream. I realised my full potential when my nexus ice cream spoke, saying "I did it for The Rock".
Lesnar had Slater in a pickle. He