I've come up with a fun new idea for a blog post, especially exciting because it involves minimal effort for maximum entertainment, which gives me free time to do things like sleep and come up with exciting, politically charged posts that people will actually look at.
Here goes: I'm going to begin a story like in the game of Authors. Anyone who wants can post a continuation, with the next comments continuing from where the last left off and so on. Please keep it crazy, clean, and succinct, and remember that I have the right to delete any post I don't like, although I plan to use the veto power sparingly.
Johnny was a most average little pencil- skinny, yellow, and just a bit chewed down by the eraser. But Johnny had a dream and that dream gave him the courage to bear the tedium of daily usage and being chewed on; he dreamed that one day he would be able to throw off the shackles of helpless school supply-ism and...
3 comments:
(I reckon this is enough comments for me to swing back in)
...the tune that we played was so awful and so torturously played that it threw the pencil into spasms of self-doubt, and then into self-loathing, causing him to disavow all previous dream of Hollywood and devote his life to hunting down and killing all people who so offended the human ear...
suddenly there was a knock on the door and before he could react, two burly permanent markers slammed into the room, wearing fedora caps and carrying cello cases. Certain that the mob had caught up with him at last, he leapt to his feet, but one marker shoved him back into his seat while the other opened his case and pulled out a cello...
"Stub?" he said. "Who is this Stub of whom you speak? My name, sir, is Johnny-" "Hush, Mr. Stub. I'm from the Feds. We've been told that you have information about a certain attempted bank robbery." "Um, well..." he weighed his options, unsure whether to do his patriotic duty or play it safe and continue to stay on the good side of the brutal Opera Mob, in whose hands his life rested...
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