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Fantastic word game

Return the real mechanical bull to its rightful place, and take back your cheap, counterfeit, imitation look-alike mechanical bull.
 
Your cheap, counterfeit, imitation look-alike mechanical bull is surely not edible, Mister Ed, so fer all our sakes, don't try butcherin' it, separatin' it, and then stickin' it in yer De Santis-approved meat grinder.

Stomach pumpin' ain't near as easy as unmentionable underside pumpin', I'll tell you what.

Well, I'll be. Scanman, doggone it, if you want one of those unmentionables on yer staff, by golly, you should have one. Ain't none of us gonna stop you, partner. Kindly forward yer roadside P.O. Box #, n' I'll ship you a shiny new milkin' pail, and a lil' stool 'specially made fer sittin', We're mighty proud you'd wanna have some o' that good ol', down home farmin' representation on yer detail, partner. Much obliged. 🫡
 
Liver n' Onions was a weekly dish comin' by way o' Mama Rose's, otherwise, delectable menu, but as a full-grown hayseed, I druther it ne'er show up on my plate again.

Imagine that. I'll get down with some Squirrel Surprise, but it's liver where I draw the line.
 
Broccoli wasn't a favorite of Dubya's Daddy, either, leadin' to the various online news clips we've likely all seen of him turnin' up his nose at the sheer mention of it.

I'll eat it, but it's gotta be drowned in nacho cheese. Same with that dadburn cauliflower.
 
The sheer mention of it makes my skin crawl so hopefully it gets corrected before my brain matter appears everywhere.
 
Everywhere ol' Cy looks, he sees the opportunity to bore a new hole, but only after he does the responsible thing and protects himself by puttin' on his faded, yellow hard hat.

Safety first when borin' holes, as ev'ry roughneck worth his/her weight in oil already knows.
 
His faded, yellow hard hat was actually a miner's helmet that he had obtained by redeeming the requisite number of Quake cereal box tops.

Have you tried broccoli rabe, rcm?
 
The prize, better known as the mechanical bull, was switched for a cheap, counterfeit, imitation look-alike mechanical bull, while the real one is being held for ransom by some scurrilous evildoers from one of those inferior band camps.
 
The premises were secured, thanks to scanman and his new unmentionable.

😁

I have not, your Excellency of Excess. Like my tallboys of Miller Lite, the official sponsor of the vintage neon sign, I prefer my broccoli (when forced upon me) bitter-free.
 
Unmentionable things, such as demerits, will come your way if you mangle the English language.

Along with the broccoli and the cauliflower, we mustn't forget asparagus and brussel sprouts.
 
The English language would not be what it is today without rules governing spelling, grammar and punctuation, enforcement of which is my duty.

However, I cannot issue demerits for errors in the italicized comments, so I'll have to settle for a mild "tsk, tsk" to Ed for his butchery of "Brussels sprouts."
 
My duty, as the resident redneck 'round these here parts, is to make sure ev'ryone feels their contributions to Fantastic Word Game are appreciated, even when the submission may be a lil' bit lackin', and you have my personal guarantee that anyone playin', however they may wanna do so, will never feel left out.

We may have an authoritarian in D.C., right now, but FWG basks in the glory of complete and unquestionable freedom from "the system".

It's how our good friend, and Head of Security netted himself an unmentionable. Well, at least fer me. Scanman can mention it whenever and however he wants.

Have you given any thought to namin' yer new detail member, HOSS?
 
Left out of this possible cow ownership trend here in the FWG are me and my loyal (albeit potentially grilled) whitetail buck, Lord Vennyson, who, to be honest, would rather I be gifted an attractive doe he can call "dear."
 
Dear Linguistics Czar, you've got something that far exceeds anything I can offer you.

Heck for, ya wanna trade? I can't mention the one on my end o' the trade, but you sure 'nuff can. You know the PBI would be in good hayseed hands down here on The Ranch.
 
I can offer you several bottles of A-1 and Worcestershire sauce, as the sight of either causes Lord V much consternation.

I think His Lordship may fear my ultimate intentions. He's practically stopped eating, which is bad news for both of us. So the sauces must go, for now. But it's a hard "no" to your offer to swap your dear C. for my dear K. She'd only be coming back here every weekend -- or even more often -- for the sweet taste of lactose she'd be missing so much, and you'd hardly see her at all. (And no, Lord V wants no part of bovine or human hanky-panky. He's all buck.)
 
Consternation of Lord Vennyson is unacceptable, and I'd have thought that Manfred the Moose and Charlize the Chickadee woulda kept him happy and satisfied.

At least you could give the poor ol' thing a gummy or two.

I hadn't thought that fer ahead, compadre. Of course, yer right. I don't know what I was thinkin', and this, my friend, is one of several reasons why yer the cerebral superior, and I'm the simple-minded ramblin' redneck. Please don't send anything to the roadside mailbox lettin' my unmentionable one know that I was considerin' takin' her to the Vermont Swap Shop. I wouldn't be able to look her square in the unmentionable eye, ever again.
 


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