Nick Jonas Solves Family Problems with Joe Jonas in Antarctica| Storytime

Back in high school I used to write the craziest stories to entertain my friends at lunch. I thought maybe I should write a funny story to share with the internet however I’ve had writers block since senior year, which was 4 years ago… BUT I did find a plot generator and I decided to give it a shot. And the results were HILARIOUS! So without further ado, may I present:

A UNIQUE TALE OF HOW NICK AND JOE JONAS REKINDLED FRIENDSHIP

Nick Jonas looked at the loquacious table in his hands and felt happy.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his funky surroundings. He had always loved stone cold Antarctica with its gleaming, greasy gingerbread houses. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel happy.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Joe Jonas. Joe was a hilarious poop with sassy wenis and brunette pinky toe.

Nick gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a strong, lumpy, beer drinker with skinny wenis and strong pinky toe. His friends saw him as a sore, spotty saint. Once, he had even helped a deep baby Frankie recover from a flying accident.

But not even a strong person who had once helped a deep baby Frankie recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Joe had in store today.

The snow flurried like twerking armadillo, making Nick disappointed.

As Nick stepped outside and Joe came closer, he could see the colossal smile on his face.

“I am here because I want The Jonas Brothers to get back together,” Joe bellowed, in a honest tone. He slammed his fist against Nick’s chest, with the force of 1924 beluga whale. “I frigging hate you, Nick Jonas.”

Nick looked back, even more disappointed and still fingering the loquacious table. “Joe, I love you bitch,” he replied.

They looked at each other with fear feelings, like two ill, inquisitive iguana sharting at a very personable funeral, which had reggae music playing in the background and two kind uncles running to the beat.

Nick regarded Joe’s sassy wenis and brunette pinky toe. He held out his hand. “Let’s not fight,” he whispered, gently.

“Hmph,” pondered Joe.

“Please?” begged Nick with puppy dog eyes.

Joe looked flabbergasted, his body blushing like an abundant, ashamed Ashley Tisdale CD.

Then Joe came inside for a nice drink of beer.

THE END

 

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