low_delta

This has really been fun. I think I'll have to make this into a community.
Here are the sentences created. Some of them were at a point where they could be considered finished, but others weren't.

Sorry about the side scroll, but I had to do it, so you could see where the sentences diverged.

Sometimes, when these butterflies attack my stomach, I feel like sticking both frisbees to your delicous fnord, although this impropriety suggests wanton vegetation overload throughout nasal marshes tickling those sweltering armpits, nevertheless curiosity overwhelmed me despite my anxious sister's gnu rides, and, while there persists...

Sometimes, when these butterflies attack my stomach, I feel like sticking both frisbees to your delicous fnord, although this impropriety suggests wanton vegetation overload throughout nasal marshes tickling those sweltering armpits, nevertheless curiosity overwhelmed eighteen non-Euclidean...

Sometimes, when I forget laughter stitches develop posthumously under my blue winter mood.

Sometimes, when I forget laughter stitches develop posthumously under my (blue) hinterland, enrapturing audiences gasp, chortling.

Sometimes, when I marinate goblins come screaming overtones of dystopia, forsaking nothing except beer flavored disks covered in lava.

Sometimes, when velvet covers all heavenly bodies, night shimmers underwater, since we cannot fathom Cartesian Ovals squared under cloudless parking-lots.

Sometimes, when velvet covers all heavenly bodies, night shimmers underwater, since we elude dark cascades only

Sometimes, I spin around slowly, lifting and whispering "teeth need sweaters" when rolling over flecks of melted cheese, touching myself, sliding past various dimpled walruses.

Sometimes, I spin around slowly with great toads swooping languorously across the ballroom ceiling, yelling "Behold, the floor-dwellers ascend again!"

Sometimes, I spin webs of gossamer, threadbare dreams, catching incense.

Sometimes, I spin webs of gossamer, threadbare dreams, catching cold desire smack dab

Sometimes, I spin yarns, crab-like pincers stacking...

Sometimes I drain rivers and after lunch I navigate through bouillabaisse, unbridled from delicate angst-ridden mirrors reflecting soulless facades bereft of practical...

Sometimes, I investigate dumpsters, hoping my soul brother has grown fonder, but hopelessness wiltered under preposterous ornaments of tarnished platinum before vanishing into nightmares and...

Sometimes, I investigate dumpsters hoping my spleen refurbishes though it doesn't smell.

Sometimes, i investigate dumpsters hoping my spleen refurbishes everyone's bulletin board.

Sometimes, I postpone difficult questions because hormones drown my febrile thoughts deeply while i posts.

Sometimes, I postpone difficult questions because hormones drown my pets, gurgling.

Sometimes, singing serenely in the wide deep protoplasm causes me to burp harmonically in triplets.

Sometimes, singing serenely in the wide deep protoplasm causes me to sink into reverie while pertepual wildfires soar upon wings.

Sometimes, singing serenely in the wide deep protoplasm causes me great confusion, unless green impalas float gracefully out of unfurling...

Sometimes, singing serenely in the wide deep canyons, I find bizarrely resonant throughout, the universal signal.

Sometimes, singing serenely in the shower helps locate loose screws trembling aft, impeding spiders while wing-walkers waft blind-folded among...

Sometimes singing serenely in the shower helps locate keys abandoned whilst frolicking about churning Liebfraumilch.

Sometimes, singing serenely in the shower helps locate keys abandoned whilst frolicking naked in Someone's garage.

Sometimes, singing off-key annoys Thor, who rampages savagely without goat-drawn mangled intestinal fortitude, but pounding inadvertent...

Sometimes, carnivorous toilets arise surreptitiously when evening shadows curdle daylight's rich beams, scurrying ever so persnickety along talismanic cocktail umbrellas which fall precariously to the wayside belonging to none.

Sometimes, carnivorous toilets arise surreptitiously behind dictatorships, plotting gastronomical comeuppance until disaster flabbergasts those unsuspecting gourmands, leaking residual acceleration while jogging edgewise.

Sometimes, clandestine monks defenestrate sinful chocolate hoarders avariciously distracted by mounds of sorrowful broccoli steaming in crockpots which crack marrow from fresh squirrels.

Sometimes, clandestine monks fear things which gremlings spurn, unbeknownst to...

Sometimes, clandestine monks fear things which gremlings and middleaged...

Sometimes, conversation ends. Silence can sound deafening. Text replaces raw industry.

Sometimes,/ friends/ spring/ out of unsuspected/ one-word-pleadings,/ but others/ join in/ with two/ words each.

Sometimes friends collapse comfortably, but they.

Sometimes, friends aren't real.

And for those of you who are wondering how this started...
At work, we have a white board on the wall. One day it was empty. I thought there should be something
on it, so I wrote "something" on it. A week later, Paul thought there should be something new
on the board, so he wrote "new" underneath "something." Pretty soon other people started
adding words, and the rest is history.
So you see, it all started with something...