Deeply Random Mad Libs Stories
Do you like Mad Libs? I like Mad Libs. And some days, there’s more than enough room for a bit of silliness. So… allons-y!
(Doctor Who – related, naturally. Except for one, by my parents, who have their own fandom; Mary Black, the legendary Irish singer)
We’ll start off with a bit of non-sequitur.
Be kind to your magic-footed cricket bats
For a duck may be somebody’s letter,
Be kind to your cricket bats in Gallifrey
Where the weather is always proper.
Dear School Nurse:
Peripatetic Smythe will not be attending school today. She has come down with a case of post-traumatic stress and has horrible Daleks and a derivative fever. We have made an appointment with the overblown Dr. Grandiloquent, who studied for many years in Gallifrey and has 907 degrees in pediatrics. He will send you all the information you need (on his psychic paper). Thank you!
(love for Evelyn Smythe!)
Once upon a time, there sighed in Gallifrey a man named John Smith. He was the traveled guy. He could traveled the night away. but then one day he got into an accident and lost the ability to traveled ever again. He was regenerating when it happened. A death came out of nowhere and annoyed him. He was in Blackpool for 42 months to recover. Then he went to Wales to become the first ever time traveler. But after 1 week he was fired. He met Tegan. They then got married. Sixty days later they adopted 14 kids.
I enjoy long, adventurous walks on the beach, getting regenerated in the rain and serendipitous encounters with fish fingers. I really like piña coladas mixed with water, and romantic, candle-lit TARDISes. I am well-read from Dr. Seuss to myself. I travel frequently, especially to Gallifrey, when I am not busy with work. (I am a Doctor.) I am looking for universes and beauty in the form of a Gallifreyan goddess. She should have the physique of Karen Gillan and the fingers of Rose Tyler. I know I’m not very attractive in my picture, but it was taken 42 days ago, and I have since become more abrupt.
Five: (based on Mary Black’s Raven In The Storm)
I’m the latest companion
roaming universes in the night
I rant without transition.
Moving in and out of Time Lord sight
I’m the TARDIS in Gallifrey
I’m the train in Blackpool
Like the Dalek in Satellite Five
I will wait for you to go
I’m the typewriter in your console
I’m the coolness in your bow tie
I’m the reason fezzes are being blown up
I’m the dance that stops the wedding
I’m the ghost of a forgotten Doctor
My hand will be there in your door
Though I can walk through walls and windows
I will angst just like before
I’m the scarf in your incarnation
I’m the box beneath the madman
I’m the blue on the pavement
I am the broken hearts within
I won’t take a train to Skaro
I will not kiss just anyone
Ask a tree why I’m sitting (cross-legged)
In the chamber of a gun
I am Dr. Stately. I am destined to rule the circus. Unfortunately, the circus is full of a bunch of legendary chops that do not agree. So this is my melodramatic plan to take over the circus:
To start with, I`ll need to build my nervous hideout in an abandoned 3u complex in the middle of Dingle. It will have 3 underground floor(s), and only 1980 floor(s) aboveground. All the songs will open faithfully and address me as “The Great and sweaty Dr. stately”. I will also have several rooms designed for dancing and performing anyone who tries to sing me. That is, after I have traveled the full extent of my melodramatic plan to them.
Next, I will hire some songstresses to design the Icon Buster, a machine designed to trigger huge concerts wherever I want it to. And if they don`t want to build it, I will capture their pubs and threaten to make them diet for hours on end. Once it`s built, I will have it birthed along the San Andreas sweet baby boy.
Mwwhistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle!
Obviously you cheat, I can hold the Governor of California, Van Morrison, against the threat of dazzling 1/3 of the state into the ocean. And once I have control of California, I will irritate the Guinness industry into promoting my right to rule the circus, and achingly all will succumb to my bodhran and feistiness.