Story Generator

This thing is just too hilarious not to share with fellow writers.
http://plot-generator.co.uk/
Mr. Batson’s interview reminded me of it.
Copy and paste the ones that make you laugh the most below!
Here are some of my sister and my best ones.

Drabbles, filled in with everything regarding goldfish crackers:

It was a salty day accentuated by the tasty sunshine. It was hard to believe that in a few moments, I would suffer a crispy death.
I was enjoying eating morosely as little brother sighed fondly, like a golden fish smiling cheerfully.
The goldfish cracker had salty salt grains and tasty eyes. It didn’t look dangerous. Not even its crumbly smile warned me of my fate. I should have sensed the danger in its tail.
I can still vividly recall the plate coming down on my mouth like a crunchy box – crunch. My life slipped away.
Only dearest little sister wept.

The sunshine reminded me of a fish that day – what a day for Armageddon.
I panicked, my fear reflected in the eyes of little brother and little sister.
But then we saw it – a crumbly goldfish cracker. Little brother smiled. Salty salt grains, tasty eyes and a crispy smile – the goldfish cracker seemed like the answer to our prayers.
Little sister looked at the plate and sighed morosely. Little brother, eating fondly, conveyed similar sentiments.
A sense of anticipation ran through my mouth, smiling cheerfully.
Little brother admired the goldfish cracker’s crunchy tail, breath held tight.
Crunch!
With help from a golden box, the goldfish cracker saved the world.

One more, from the short story generator.

Grab Bag had always hated paralyzed Disneyland with its manky, melodic mascots. It was a place where he felt bruising.
He was a fat, hungry, gutter water drinker with gamine eyebrows and slim scars. His friends saw him as a delicious, delightful dead cat. Once, he had even saved a tasty teddy bear lost at a train station that was stuck in a drain. That’s the sort of man he was.
Grab walked over to the window and reflected on his the happiest place on earth surroundings. The tornado teased like boiling over killer whale.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Lunch Box. Lunch was a good pawn with tubby eyebrows and skinny scars.
Grab gulped. He was not prepared for Lunch.
As Grab stepped outside and Lunch came closer, he could see the magnificent glint in his eye.
“I am here because I want to go to the bathroom,” Lunch bellowed, in a handy tone. He slammed his fist against Grab’s chest, with the force of 3704 moths. “I frigging love you, Grab bag.”
Grab looked back, even more drowning and still fingering the burnt to a crisp spanking stick. “Lunch, Bucky . . .?” he replied.
They looked at each other with having a tantrum feelings, like two blue, breezy bumble bee bats throwing a fit at a very useful statue dedication, which had dirge music playing in the background and two useless uncles screeching to the beat.
Grab studied Lunch’s tubby eyebrows and skinny scars. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you to go to the bathroom,” he explained, in pitying tones.
Lunch looked woozy, his body raw like a stormy, successful side of beef.
Grab could actually hear Lunch’s body shatter into 3343 pieces. Then the a good pawn hurried away into the distance.
Not even a drink of gutter water would calm Grab’s nerves tonight.
THE END