The Funniest Plot Generator Ever

So, yesterday whilst browsing around the interwebz I found this website that generates plots and stories according to what words you put in. And boy, was I in for something. I have honestly never laughed so hard at something. So I thought I'd do something wynncraft-y. Here is what happened when I put some wynncraft words in, with a few other random words. Here goes...




Salted the Cow looked at the horrible block of wood in his hands and felt uninspired.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his ugly surroundings. He had always hated poorly made build servers with its burnt, black bad buildings. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel uninspired.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Grian the koolkid. Grian was a fugly builder with blonde legs and incredibly short buttcheeks.

Salted gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a dank, kinky, jizz drinker with fat legs and ugly buttcheeks. His friends saw him as a cautious, cooing cow. Once, he had even rescued an annoying Jumla from a burning building.

But not even a dank person who had once rescued an annoying Jumla from a burning building, was prepared for what Grian had in store today.

The hail pounded like building cows, making Salted arroused.

As Salted stepped outside and Grian came closer, he could see the brainy glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want gavel," Grian bellowed, in a fantastic tone. He slammed his fist against Salted's chest, with the force of 1464 build servers. "I frigging hate you, Salted the Cow."

Salted looked back, even more arroused and still fingering the horrible block of wood. "Grian, please," he replied.

They looked at each other with happy feelings, like two grim, grieving gavels quest writing at a very amazing opening of Gavel, which had wynncraft music playing in the background and two crappy uncles releasing to the beat.

Suddenly, Grian lunged forward and tried to punch Salted in the face. Quickly, Salted grabbed the horrible block of wood and brought it down on Grian's skull.

Grian's blonde legs trembled and his incredibly short buttcheeks wobbled. He looked angry, his body raw like a wet, whispering wooden axe.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Grian the koolkid was dead.

Salted the Cow went back inside and made himself a nice drink of jizz.

THE END

original: http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/zfdeid/two-crappy-uncles-releasing-to-beat.html


boy, was that a doozy... I have never laughed at something harder. Half the time it made no sense, and others it worked out hilariously perfectly. xD

If you wanna make one, the link is here. Share it with us too!

Link to site: http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/

 

"Clap clap"

 

I'd agree with that reaction

 

YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW HARD I LAUGHED

 

Serious Martin Kirai
A Short Story
by My ass
Martin Kirai had always loved beautiful Sunset Cliff with its tough, tiny trees. It was a place where he felt romantic.

He was a serious, hot-headed, Fruit Shake drinker with Skinny Legs and Sharp Hair. His friends saw him as a homely, hilarious Hero. Once, he had even rescued a spilt them from a burning building. That's the sort of man he was.

Martin walked over to the window and reflected on his romantic surroundings. The Sun shone like loving Dogs.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Halia Kopo. Halia was a cool Girlfriend with Beautiful Legs and Cool Hair.

Martin gulped. He was not prepared for Halia.

As Martin stepped outside and Halia came closer, he could see the unrealistic glint in her eye.

Halia gazed with the affection of 5569 handsome broken Birds. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want To kiss him."

Martin looked back, even more serious and still fingering the ass-hole Sword. "Halia, *kisses Halia*," he replied.

They looked at each other with compassionate feelings, like two concerned, clever Cats kissing at a very reckless a date, which had romantic music playing in the background and two carefree uncles hugging to the beat.

Martin regarded Halia's Beautiful Legs and Cool Hair. "I feel the same way!" revealed Martin with a delighted grin.

Halia looked happy, her emotions blushing like a fancy, flat Flower.

Then Halia came inside for a nice drink of Fruit Shake.

________________________________

LOL!!, this is one weird story I created xD

 

omfg this is hilarious: http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/si0zwx/restaurant-kfc.html

 

Here's mine... please don't kil mëh...

Two Mlg Uncles Noscoping to the Beat
A Short Story
by mlg bill nye

Jim the Derp looked at the dumb deez nuts in his hands and felt excited.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his happy surroundings. He had always loved colorful canada with its mouldy, misty maple syrup rivers. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel excited.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Chez Kake. Chez was a drunk bird with derpy left armpit and tall nose.

Jim the gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a stupid, cow humping, weed drinker with ginger left armpit and russian nose. His friends saw him as a mouldy, misty midget. Once, he had even brought a xenotropic derp head back from the brink of death.

But not even a stupid person who had once brought a xenotropic derp head back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Chez had in store today.

The wet teased like flapping hogs, making Jim the whoring.

As Jim the stepped outside and Chez came closer, he could see the mushy glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want revenge," Chez bellowed, in a derpy tone. He slammed his fist against Jim the's chest, with the force of 8139 bats. "I frigging love you, Jim the Derp."

Jim the looked back, even more whoring and still fingering the dumb deez nuts. "Chez, eat a dick," he replied.

They looked at each other with bored feelings, like two rainy, relieved rats fapping at a very stoned uncle jeffs 69th birthday, which had reggae music playing in the background and two mlg uncles noscoping to the beat.

Jim the regarded Chez's derpy left armpit and tall nose. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Chez.

"Please?" begged Jim the with puppy dog eyes.

Chez looked flying, his body blushing like an obedient, ordinary old shoes.

Then Chez came inside for a nice drink of weed.

THE END

 

hahahahah xD

 

I tried to rewrite Harry Potter. The results were hillarious.

The Magical Wand
A Short Story
by K.J Gnilwor
Harry Potter had always loved magical Hogwarts with its homely, handsome hallways. It was a place where he felt painful.

He was an Ill-informed, talented, butter beer drinker with Skinny Heart and Tall Forehead. His friends saw him as a watery, wandering wizard. Once, he had even brought a nutritious Professor Lupin back from the brink of death. That's the sort of man he was.

Harry walked over to the window and reflected on his odd surroundings. The Snow flurried like shooting Owls.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Lord Voldemort. Lord was a wizardly seerpent with Dank Heart and Evil Forehead.

Harry gulped. He was not prepared for Lord.

As Harry stepped outside and Lord came closer, he could see the rapid smile on his face.

Lord glared with all the wrath of 7822 magical tough Toads. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want his soul."

Harry looked back, even more naughty and still fingering the magical wand. "Lord, expelliarmus," he replied.

They looked at each other with lightning-shaped feelings, like two narrow, naughty Newts crying at a very good battle, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two friendly uncles spell-casting to the beat.

Suddenly, Lord lunged forward and tried to punch Harry in the face. Quickly, Harry grabbed the magical wand and brought it down on Lord's skull.

Lord's Dank Heart trembled and his Evil Forehead wobbled. He looked rude, his emotions raw like a homeless, happy horcrux.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Lord Voldemort was dead.

Harry Potter went back inside and made himself a nice drink of butter beer.

THE END

 

You have my gratitude, @I'm the Ice Guy. Playing around with that plot generator with my friends and reading this thread made my day…

Here’s some of the gold we got:

From my story:
“Nat gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a brutal, predatory, tea drinker with long arms and tall eyes. Her friends saw her as a slippery, scrawny saint. Once, she had even made a cup of tea for a grim [Friend 1]. [That’s how it described me].

But not even a brutal person who had once made a cup of tea for a grim [Friend 1], was prepared for what [Friend 2] had in store today.”

From a friend’s story:
“She was a ruthless, sinister, WATER drinker with ginger Penis and skinny Left toe. Her friends saw her as a skinny, steep Satan. Once, she had even helped a determined unconcouse [Friend 3] recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of woman she was.” [sic for all of this]

8/8 kekking material m8.

 

What have I done...

Galactic Annoying Fork Wars
A Science Fiction Plot
by Maxotrizion I.D.K ForZ
A long, long time ago in an annoying, annoying galaxy...

After leaving the swift planet Mercury, a group of chickens fly toward a distant speck. The speck gradually resolves into a slow, space skyscraper.

Civil war strikes the galaxy, which is ruled by Ican'tthink Ofaname, a crazy dragon capable of burglary and even murder.

Terrified, a cross-eyed ghost known as That Guy flees the Empire, with her protector, Max Force.

They head for Amsterdam on the planet Uranus. When they finally arrive, a fight breaks out. Force uses his annoying fork to defend That.

Force and Ghost That decide it's time to leave Uranus and steal a bike to shoot their way out.

They encounter a tribe of zombies. Force is attacked and the ghost is captured by the zombies and taken back to Amsterdam.

Force must fight to save Ghost That but when he accidentally unearths a funny lamp, the entire future of the annoying, swift galaxy is at stake.

 

That's probably what banks used.

 

I'm glad I made you guys laugh!
also, dank stories xD

 

http://www.song-lyrics-generator.org.uk/ugonb9/smelly-arms-hip-hop.html

 

Pika PikaPikaPika
A Short Story
by Pika


Pika Pika looked at the Pika Pika in her hands and felt Pika.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her Pika surroundings. She had always loved Pika PikaPikaPika with its petite, pickled Pika. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel Pika.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Pika Pika. Pika was a Pika Pika with Pika Pika and Pika Pika.

Pika gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a Pika, Pika, Pika drinker with Pika Pika and Pika Pika. Her friends saw her as a petite, pickled Pika. Once, she had even revived a dying, Pika.

But not even a Pika person who had once revived a dying, Pika, was prepared for what Pika had in store today.

The Pika teased like Pika Pika, making Pika Pika.

As Pika stepped outside and Pika came closer, she could see the icy glint in his eye.

"Look Pika," growled Pika, with a Pika glare that reminded Pika of Pika Pika. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want Pika. You owe me 2115 Pika."
Pika looked back, even more Pika and still fingering the Pika Pika. "Pika, pika," she replied.

They looked at each other with Pika feelings, like two pleasant, powerful Pika Pika at a very Pika Pika, which had Pika music playing in the background and two Pika uncles Pika to the beat.

Pika studied Pika's Pika Pika and Pika Pika. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I declared myself bankrupt," explained Pika. "You will never get your money."

"No!" objected Pika. "You lie!"

"I do not!" retorted Pika. "Now get your Pika Pika out of here before I hit you with this Pika Pika."

Pika looked Pika, his wallet raw like a panicky, powerless Pika.

Pika could actually hear Pika's wallet shatter into 2115 pieces. Then the Pika Pika hurried away into the distance.

Not even a drink of Pika would calm Pika's nerves tonight.

THE END

Oops...

 

Two Gay retard Uncles Pushing to the Beat
A Short Story
by Pen15


Capa had always loved cold Snowdin with its straight, smiling snow. It was a place where he felt happy.

He was a tall, short, captus pie drinker with short armpits and skinny nuts. His friends saw him as a hurt, handsome hell. Once, he had even rescued an inexpensive turd from a burning building. That's the sort of man he was.

Capa walked over to the window and reflected on his sexy surroundings. The snow flurried like Booming Temmie.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Microsoft . Microsoft was a small dumb with tall as hell armpits and fat nuts.

Capa gulped. He was not prepared for Microsoft.

As Capa stepped outside and Microsoft came closer, he could see the slobbering glint in his eye.

Microsoft glared with all the wrath of 1593 big big Butts. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want her soul."

Capa looked back, even more grumpy and still fingering the soft butt. "Microsoft, lOL FAGOT," he replied.

They looked at each other with sad feelings, like two terrible, tasteless Toby Fox Punching at a very Giant Fibunny Day, which had dubstep music playing in the background and two gay retard uncles Pushing to the beat.

Capa studied Microsoft's tall as hell armpits and fat nuts. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Capa in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't hate you Microsoft."

Microsoft looked sexy, his emotions raw like a bitter, barbecued butt.

Capa could actually hear Microsoft's emotions shatter into 5014 pieces. Then the small dumb hurried away into the distance.

Not even a drink of captus pie would calm Capa's nerves tonight.

THE END

 

oh god...here we go



xXx_360_noscopexXx weed looked at the much WEED in his hands and felt noscoping.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his fags surroundings. He had always loved Fags Fagtown with its frail, flat Fags. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel noscoping.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX XXX. XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX was a much SWEG with WOW NOSCOPE and AMAZEBALLS QUICKSCOPE.

xXx_360_noscopexXx gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an amazeballs, sweg, WEED drinker with SWEG NOSCOPE and WEED QUICKSCOPE. His friends saw him as a spilt, smoggy SWAG. Once, he had even brought a lonely old man back from the brink of death.

But not even an amazeballs person who had once brought a lonely old man back from the brink of death, was prepared for what XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX had in store today.

The WEED teased like noscoping doritoes, making xXx_360_noscopexXx wow.

As xXx_360_noscopexXx stepped outside and XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX came closer, he could see the embarrassed glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want to be nocscopped," XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX bellowed, in a fag tone. He slammed his fist against xXx_360_noscopexXx's chest, with the force of 5131 SWEG DOG. "I frigging hate you, xXx_360_noscopexXx weed."

xXx_360_noscopexXx looked back, even more wow and still fingering the much WEED. "XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX, I will rek u skrub 1v1 me irl," he replied.

They looked at each other with quickscope feelings, like two witty, wet WEED quickscoping at a very such A fagwar, which had DUBWUB music playing in the background and two wow uncles running to the beat.

xXx_360_noscopexXx regarded XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX's WOW NOSCOPE and AMAZEBALLS QUICKSCOPE. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX.

"Please?" begged xXx_360_noscopexXx with puppy dog eyes.

XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX looked rekt, his body blushing like a melted, modern MOUNTAIN DUE.

Then XXXWYNNCRAFTTIANXXX came inside for a nice drink of WEED.

What is read...cannot be unread

THE END

 

The Prized Sword
A Short Story
by [R]

Robert looked at the prized sword in his hands and felt angry.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his corrupted surroundings. He had always loved big Wynn with its , 7 major towns. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel angry.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Drake . Drake was a skilled demon with tall legs and dark haired head.

Robert gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a Silent, loyal, tea drinker with thin legs and fair-skinned head. His friends saw him as a knobbly, knowledgeable knight. Once, he had even revived a dying, random person.

But not even a Silent person who had once revived a dying, random person, was prepared for what Drake had in store today.

The rain hammered like stabbing emu, making Robert happiness.

As Robert stepped outside and Drake came closer, he could see the dark glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want revenge," Drake bellowed, in a sly tone. He slammed his fist against Robert's chest, with the force of 2728 dragon. "I frigging hate you, Robert ."

Robert looked back, even more happiness and still fingering the prized sword. "Drake, dIEEEE," he replied.

They looked at each other with angry feelings, like two nervous, new narwhal running at a very deadly war, which had dubstep music playing in the background and two stoic uncles jumping to the beat.

Suddenly, Drake lunged forward and tried to punch Robert in the face. Quickly, Robert grabbed the prized sword and brought it down on Drake's skull.

Drake's tall legs trembled and his dark haired head wobbled. He looked angry, his body raw like a good, giant golden skull.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Drake was dead.

Robert went back inside and made himself a nice cup of tea.

THE END

fell off bed laughing first time I read this

 

work of art

 

The Donald Trumps's House Story
A Fantasy Novel
by screw off


It was a time of terror. Baby prostitute pixies would eat each other in the street.

Only one man knows how to stop the terror. One modest, admirable man - Motoro Longbow.

Motoro is a 21-year-old Builder from Donald Trumps's house with a thirst for trousers.

He knows that to stop the baby prostitute pixies from continuing their dastardly deeds, he must betray his sweet ok, Rose Lulian.

He gives up his lazy life and travels to Equestria where he attends an important The Festiful of The Sponge and acquires some ill-meaning butts.

However, the end of the world approaches, and time is running out for Motoro. He is left with two options: stop the baby prostitute pixies in one hour, or allow the world to end in a ball of fire.

________________________________

The Curse of the Enchanted Shirt
A Horror Story
by Chris T. Mas


Whilst investigating the death of a local youtuber, a Super builder called Yolo SwagDawg uncovers a legend about a supernaturally-cursed, enchanted shirt circulating throughout Fedora Land. As soon as anyone uses the shirt, he or she has exactly 377 days left to live.

The doomed few appear to be ordinary people during day to day life, but when photographed, they look distorted. A marked person feels like a snooty Dalphin to touch.

Yolo gets hold of the shirt, refusing to believe the superstition. A collage of images flash into his mind: a vast Zombie balancing on an incredible youtuber, an old newspaper headline about a crocodile taming accident, a hooded elephant ranting about Brain and a drinking well located in a Delightful place.

When Yolo notices his nose have Dalphin-like properties, he realises that the curse of the enchanted shirt is true and calls in his meh, a president called SniperClan Enemey, to help.

SniperClan examines the shirt and willingly submits himself to the curse. He finds that the same visions flash before his eyes. He finds the vast Zombie balancing on an incredible youtuber particularly chilling. He joins the queue for a supernatural death.

Yolo and SniperClan pursue a quest to uncover the meaning of the visions, starting with a search for the hooded elephant. Will they be able to stop the curse before their time is up?





Yea I'm having way to much fun

________________________________

Spiteful Morwenna Blunder
A Short Story
by Chris T. Mas


Harold Thornton looked at the stripy piano in his hands and felt confident.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his beautiful surroundings. He had always loved picturesque Moscow with its lively, light lakes. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel confident.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Morwenna Blunder. Morwenna was a spiteful juggler with dirty ankles and ginger hands.

Harold gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a deranged, caring, cocoa drinker with short ankles and skinny hands. His friends saw him as a distinct, dead doctor. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a powerful deaf person.

But not even a deranged person who had once jumped into a river and saved a powerful deaf person, was prepared for what Morwenna had in store today.

The wind blew like laughing tortoises, making Harold afraid.

As Harold stepped outside and Morwenna came closer, he could see the knobbly smile on her face.

"Look Harold," growled Morwenna, with a selfish glare that reminded Harold of spiteful lizards. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want justice. You owe me 262 dollars."

Harold looked back, even more afraid and still fingering the stripy piano. "Morwenna, I am your mother," he replied.

They looked at each other with sad feelings, like two diced, dripping donkeys jumping at a very generous birthday party, which had trance music playing in the background and two stable uncles gyrating to the beat.

Harold studied Morwenna's dirty ankles and ginger hands. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I declared myself bankrupt," explained Harold. "You will never get your money."

"No!" objected Morwenna. "You lie!"

"I do not!" retorted Harold. "Now get your dirty ankles out of here before I hit you with this stripy piano."

Morwenna looked sparkly, her wallet raw like a teeny, teeny-tiny teapot.

Harold could actually hear Morwenna's wallet shatter into 262 pieces. Then the spiteful juggler hurried away into the distance.

Not even a mug of cocoa would calm Harold's nerves tonight.

THE END