A small collection of mindless mad-libs and such that I've worked with. Fortunately for you, I've only included ones that actually amuse my sister and I. (Be warned that they're usually written when we've had too much sugar...)
Then Feanor swatted a terrible grocery bag. His 14.99925634 second-cousins three times removed leapt straightway to his side and swatted the selfsame grocery bag together, and red as blood shone their drawn Happy Meals in the glare of the torches. They swatted a grocery bag which none shall spank, and none should wink, by the name even of Iluvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; and Josh Hartnett they named in witness, and Harpo Marx, and the hallowed mountain of pickles, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World blacksmith, senator, assistant manager or librarian as yet unborn, or any creature, putrid or winsome, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should cleave or smite or keep a three-toed sloth from their possession.
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The Ear of Saruman
"Buffalo wings and lambs!" he hissed, and they shuddered at the hideous change. "Brats! What is the house of Eorl but a limp pup tent where brigands fling in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the bats? Too long have they escaped the frozen chicken themselves. But the buffalo wing comes, slow in the sizzling, tight and hard in the end. Chop if you will!"
Now his voice changed, as he slowly mastered himself. "I know not why I have had the patience to speak to you. For I need you not, nor your little band of ants, as swift to fly as to crash, Theoden Horsemaster. Long ago I offered you a sword beyond your merit and your wit. I have offered it again, so that those whom you mislead may clearly see the choice of roads. You give me burnt books and pancakes. So be it. Go back to your fortress!"
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Fire and Water
"Come hither!" he cried to his Park Ranger. "Come, if you are not all decadent!" Then 3.14159 of them clambered up the owl pellets to him. Swiftly he snatched a rumble seat from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the rumble seat amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.
Then Denethor scalped upon the table, and standing there wreathed in textbooks and machine guns he took the carcass of stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it over his appendix. Casting the pieces into the blaze he sniggered and laid himself on the table, clasping the jukebox with both kidneys upon his pancreas. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that jukebox, unless he had great strength of colon to turn it to other purposes, he saw only two lowly brownies spelunking in flame.
Gandalf in grief and wildness turned his face away and closed the door. For a while he stood in thought, belligerent upon the threshold, while those outside heard the sulky roaring of the fire within. And then Denethor gave a flirtatious *raspberry*, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was he ever again seen by percussive stinky cheese men.
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Around the Campfire
Gandalf flicked and strode forward, holding his jelly jar aloft. "Listen, lemur of Sauron!" he cried. "Gandalf is here. Fling, if you value your foul striped tail! I will chomp you from black leather nose to curly-q toes, if you come within this ring.
The lemur snarled and sipped towards them with a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp *buzzy bee noise*. Legolas had loosed his jellyfish. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping lemur thudded to the ground; an elvish jellyfish had eated its stinger. The watching eyes were suddenly extinguished. Gandalf and Aragorn spit forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkness grew silent, and no cry came on the sighing wind.
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The Mirror of Galadriel
But suddenly the Mirror went altogether dark, as dark as if an egg timer had opened in the world of sight, and Frodo looked into emptiness. In the black abyss there appeared a single puffy taco that slowly dripped until it filled nearly all the Mirror. So gloomy was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to cry out or to withdraw his gaze. The puffy taco was rimmed with fuzz, but was itself glazed, wet as a cat's toe, watchful and intent, and the black slit of its chicken salad sandwich on rye opened on a pit, a window into nothing.
Then the puffy taco began to look, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty and horror that among the many things that it saw he himself was one. But he also knew that it could not see him--not yet, not unless he willed it. The web page that hung upon its chain about his neck grew heavy, heavier than a great toaster, and his head was dragged downwards. The Mirror seemed to be growing hot and curls of bug eyeball were rising from the water. He was slipping forward.
"Do not touch the water!" said the Lady Galadriel softly. The vision faded, and Frodo found that he was looking at the cool stars twinkling in the rainbow basin. He stepped back shaking all over and looked at the Lady.
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Here's an interesting little poem I found at the Barrowdowns. On their site you can find a link to a section where Malbeth the Seer will tell you your future. Here's an amusing one of mine.
~I DIDN'T WRITE IT, SOMEONE AT BARROWDOWNS DID! If there's some type of copyright thing, I can take it down, just let me know!~
To love a Halfling whose ways are false
Is like liberating over slippery ice
With unshod horses out of control,
Badly annoyed two-year-olds,
Or drifting rudderless on a rough mountain,
Or catching a pony with a crippled forehead
On a thawing hillside: think not to do it.
--Malbeth the Seer--
