I got at the generators again. I'm sorry, Tera! BTW, feel free to post your own in the comments!
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It all started when our adventure-loving...adventurer, Walter, woke up in a haunted thicket. It was the first time it had happened. Feeling scarcely pleased, Walter attacked a live hand grenade, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Absolutely thrilled, he realized that his beloved pinecone was missing! Immediately he called his former lay, Queze. Walter had known Queze for (plus or minus) one million years, the majority of which were saucy ones. Queze was unique. He was outgoing though sometimes a little... insensitive. Walter called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

Queze picked up to a very sad Walter. Queze calmly assured him that most venomous koalas grimace before mating, yet Indonesian devil cats usually flamboyantly shudder *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Walter. Why was Queze trying to distract Walter? Because he had snuck out from Walter's with the pinecone only nine days prior. It was a enticing little pinecone... how could he resist?

It didn't take long before Walter got back to the subject at hand: his pinecone. Queze panicked. Relunctantly, Queze invited him over, assuring him they'd find the pinecone. Walter grabbed his giraffe and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Queze realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the pinecone and he had to do it randomly. He figured that if Walter took the amphibious vehicle, he had take at least four minutes before Walter would get there. But if he took the Walterbutt? Then Queze would be abnormally screwed.

Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Queze was interrupted by six insensitive frogs that were lured by his pinecone. Queze sneezed; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling worried, he carefully reached for his dangerous oil-soaked rag and skillfully groped every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the haunted thicket, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the Walterbutt rolling up. It was Walter.

----o0o----

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Wal-Mart to pick up a 12-pack of dull pencils, so he knew he was running late. With a calculated leap, Walter was out of the Walterbutt and went exotically jaunting toward Queze's front door. Meanwhile inside, Queze was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the pinecone into a box of carrots and then slid the box behind his hippopotamus. Queze was frustrated but at least the pinecone was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' Queze explosively purred. With a careful push, Walter opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some stupid genocidal maniac in a time machine,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Queze assured him. Walter took a seat about two saucy furlongs from where Queze had hidden the pinecone. Queze yawned trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Walter was distracted. Before anyone could take off their pants, Queze noticed a funny-smelling look on Walter's face. Walter slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

Queze felt a stabbing pain in his scalp when Walter asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the pinecone right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A dimwitted look started to form on Walter's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's wolverines from when she used to have pet long-haired sea monkeys. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Walter nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Queze could react, Walter fearlessly lunged toward the box and opened it. The pinecone was plainly in view.

Walter stared at Queze for what what must've been five minutes. Like a drunken sailor at happy hour, Queze groped earnestly in Walter's direction, clearly desperate. Walter grabbed the pinecone and bolted for the door. It was locked. Queze let out a enticing chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Walter,' he rebuked. Queze always had been a little selfish, so Walter knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Queze did something crazy, like... start chucking carrots at him or something. With fist clenched and teeth gnashed, he gripped his pinecone tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

Queze looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Walter. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame three days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Walter. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Queze walked over to the window and looked down. Walter was gone.

----o0o----

Just yonder, Walter was struggling to make his way through the foxy forest behind Queze's place. Walter had severely hurt his taint during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral frogs suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the pinecone. One by one they latched on to Walter. Already weakened from his injury, Walter yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of frogs running off with his pinecone.

But then God came down with His smart smile and restored Walter's pinecone. Feeling stunned, God smote the frogs for their injustice. Then He got in His gas-guzzling, ecology-destroying, tankish SUV and dashed away with the fortitude of half a million Indonesian devil cats running from a enlarged pack of venomous koalas. Walter tripped with joy when he saw this. His pinecone was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in eleven minutes his favorite TV show, Twilight, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When 3-legged wallabies meet rusty razor blade'). Walter was jubilant. And so, everyone except Queze and a few contraceptive-toting South American hissing sloths lived blissfully happy, forever after.


*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-2005
*** Forever pwning with earnest.

http://www.the-elite.net/---/story/