Do you remember those Mad Libs you used to do as a kid? Maybe you still do them – because they’re funny!! Today Hard Ticket to Home Video and I present you with a new feature for your perusal: a Mad Lib Movie Treatment! (Trademark pending). Do you remember how these work? We developed a paragraph in our heads to go with the theme of the movie and then asked each other for certain sets of words. The words we each offered up are underlined below and I think it turned out pretty random and hilarious. Did you like what you saw here? Let us know! I would love to do another one of these. Would YOU like to be involved?
THE BOOBS THAT TALKED
One day, a lustful, hairy woman woke up wanting some grass. After she split her bed she entered her kitchen to make some greasy breakfast with her juicer. Finding her food putrid, she decided to take a shower. As the water ran, she pulled a plunger off of her areola and heard a strange noise. As she was riding on the side of the tub, she dove into her clothing and discovered her boobs were being noisy!! Stroking her fu manchu, she tore off her fur coat and noticed her boobs were wiggling!! These boobs had learned to talk!!
She instantly felt her legs and panties go mushy and felt a warm stream of urine travel down her thighs. If that wasn’t enough, she felt an overwhelming urge to fart boogers. Was this because of her destiny? She quickly grabbed both boobs in a moldy jockstrap from her laundry basket. “Am I crazy?” she asked herself out loud. “Go scratch yourself, lady,” one muffled boob said. “It’s bad enough that we’re shaped like lemons.” She screamed so loudly they could hear it all the way in Hobart, Oklahoma. She quickly smelled around for the phone to call 911, but she accidentally grabbed brass knuckles and smashed herself in the ear with them. “Look, sweetie, calm down,” her right boob said. “That’s right, your boobs can talk. No big deal. It’s better than an itchy scrotum!” Dazed and bleeding from the ear, she looked down at her chest, and what she saw made her want to comb her eyes out!
Her eyes started spinning when her left boob started smacking it’s squishy lips!! She developed a very foul feeling in her uterus as she ran out of the shiny bathroom. “This is laughable!” Laughed her right boob. “it’s no big deal! Now if a GOAT could talk, that would totally CRUSH it!!” In her bedroom she grabbed a large sewing needle and stabbed the boob just under her nipple. As she pulled it out her boob exploded in red goo all over her nightstand, staining her lover’s loincloth! “This is funky….” said……. her butt!!!!
Has the world gone insane? Now her normally fragrant butt was talking to her just like her boobs were! “Are you SHITTING me??!” she cried out. “I wouldn’t shit you, you’re my favorite turd!” her butt joked, then laughed so loudly that she grabbed her hoodie to muffle it. These talking body parts had to be stopped. If her friends and coworkers found out about this she’d be ruined financially. Her vision started to blur, and with one runny eyelid she made her way to the garage, stopping only to make a bulging fart, which seemed to infuriate her butt. Entering the garage, she made her way to the old ice chest in the corner when she felt a sizzling sensation in her butt. Her good breast began to scream as she made her way to the cardboard box on top of the ice chest. The box was marked DOUCHE, but that’s not what was inside. She opened the box, reached in and grabbed her father’s old, smelly chainsaw, which he had won from Carl Weathers in a naked hopscotch contest. Fighting through the sizzling and screaming, she turned the chainsaw on, and swung it at her behind.
In a strange twist of fate, the chainsaw’s oil canister ruptured so the liquid soaked and stained her ass. As she tried to rub at the spot with her blowtorch, she made the situation worse when her squishy hair caught on fire!! “AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” She screamed and loudly yanked off her crotchless panties with her steel-toed work boot. “I feel like a Canadian!!” she crowed, remembering she had to get to her job as an overnight assistant janitor with Misty Layne. “This movie is going to be worse than Rhinestone,” murmured her talking boob.
Bleeding, wet and badly burned, she clenched one hairy nipple in her fist and tried to get herself under control. She got out her iPhone and searched for advice on her situation by reading an excellent post on Smashing Through Life. The post was about how to swim and fart at the same time, but the lessons still applied to her situation. She went back inside the house, knelt in front of her autographed poster of Mother Teresa and suddenly found herself covered in a cloud of healing. After many seconds of a sensuous picking sensation, her body was fully recovered, and both boobs and her butt shouted, “HOORAY!” in unison. Although her underwear was still brown, she felt alive. “Who wants candy?” she asked her body parts.