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Fantastic word game

Moving along the conveyor belt to be packed, sealed and sent on their way to the supermarket and your dinner plate are two plump chicken legs, which just may be Henrietta's.

Sometimes it pays to keep your know-it-all beak shut, y'know.
 
Carnival barkers beckon the crowd to step right up.

Poor ol' Henrietta. I reckon she didn't know her fate at the hands o' The Vermont Boudoir, so it's now glaringly apparent that she was a fibbin' hen. Now, thanks to Mister Ed, she's a frozen fibbin' hen. Dad blame it. First Dudley, now Henrietta. I'm losin' critters faster than a one legged man losin' a butt kickin' contest.

Howdy, Mister Ed. We were wonderin' if you'd done gone n' thawed yer freezer.
 
Step right up and catch another spelling error of mine, Kemo, and you will earn my everlasting appreciation.

Lasting until you come to visit and spring the trap door to my underground freezer, that is.
 
Appreciation fer each o' you still here playin' the game, n' fer the paycheck in my pocket that's fixin' to purchase the goods to refill my Yeti cooler with what I need to make it through the weekend.

...n' speakin' o' the weekend, join me, WMC, dmargalotti, Miss...

...oh, what the hell am I doin'???

Have a Fantastic weekend, y'all!
 
You-know-what is hangin' out you-know-where, but I reckon, High Chief, since you-know-who ran off you-know-how, we can just go ahead n' just say Connie is in her barn.
 
Connie is in her barn, not knowing that someday she could be turned into another pound o' ground round, or maybe even some nice, plump, juicy hot dogs.

rcm, I stayed quiet for awhile because I thought the posts were getting a bit intense... Then at first I thought WMC's threat to leave was part of the joke. So I just waited for the drama to die down.
 
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Right now, I'm gettin' my 30.06 ready fer Mister Ed to make his attempt in turnin' my loyal companion into a ballpark favorite.

Yer freezer ain't got the square footage to store my heifer, partner.

A tip o' the 10-gallon to @Tiger Cox, n' welcome to Fantastic Word Game. We sure 'nuff appreciate yer contribution, sir. My name is Rose, n' I am the game's resident redneck. I have a plethora o' critters n' tales from the barnyard. Some o' it is pure bull-oney, but the dairy spewin' heifer, the beer swillin', n' my 10-gallon hat are all very much legit.

Meet the guys that make up FWG (TWFG, as some prefer).

CTListener: He's our linguistical wizard, proprietor of The Listener Lodge, n' male occupant o' The Vermont Boudoir. He has a lovely assistant named Kayla (Petite Blonde Intern, as is her official title). Make a linguistics or punctuation error in the game, n' expect a knock on yer chamber door from him.

Kemosabe: The High Chief, The Director o' Game Excess, n' one classy guy. You've heard o' Robin Leach, right? Well, he's our version. He owns Ginger, n' she's an embraceable ewe. We haven't seen a whole lot o' her yet, but we're lookin' forward to many heartwarmin' tales comin' from her outta the Chief's teepee.

Mister Ed: Our man o' frozen delicacies. He n' his pound o' ground round do what they can to avoid our linguistical wizard's demerits. He's gathered a few o' those, but nowhere near the sheer number collected here at The Ranch. Ed n' I are both Dixieland dwellers. He in Desantisland, me in the Lone Star. Together, we form The Southern Delegation (TSD, as no one prefers)

The Padre, HOSS, quad, Silkie, n' WMC are a part o' the normal Fantastic programming, too, but they're all currently sittin' on the sidelines in silent protest. We also get an occasional visit from Weiserguy, here n' there.

Again, welcome to our Fantastic little world, @Tiger Cox. We ask that you bold the words at the end of yer sentence that you want the next participant to play from. Also, please use only the bolded words that have been provided to you in the previous contribution. Copy n' paste can be quite helpful with this.

Other than that, it's yer Fantastic world. The rest o' us are just livin' in it. Contribute how you wish, n' have some fun. We're glad to have you on board.

...n' feel free to tell a friend.

Edit to add: I'm sorry you felt uncomfortable, Mister Ed. I think it went too far, as well, but it is what it is. He'll get out of his feelings, or he won't. Those of us left will continue to hold it down here.
 
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A ballpark favorite, owing to various new offerings, could be sushi, lobster, or even a vegan hot dog.

Welcome to the FWG, Tiger Cox!

Robin Leach probably yelled a lot more than do I, Rose. :)
 
A pig in a poke occurred when the not-so-sly trader bought a racin' horse sight unseen, n' realized that it, too, had no vision a'tall once it galloped die-rectly into the arena's rail.
 
Rail transportation is how many animals (no doubt including some of Connie's cousins, and possibly Connie herself) make their way from mooin' in the pasture to sizzlin' on my grill.
 
From mooin' in the pasture to sizzlin' on my grill briefly, at high heat ("Pittsburgh rare" as I prefer), the steak should be served with a rich, complex red wine (from Bordeaux as I prefer).
 
"A rich, complex red wine (from Bordeaux as I prefer), although I'd rather have a malty porter or stout, would also go well with a delicious flank of venison," I mused silently as I drew back my crossbow for what my buck, Lord Vennyson, thought would be a fun session of target practice with suction cup-tipped arrows.
 


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