I'm too emo and lazy for this.
- Thread starter Bartholomew
- Start date
It means I'm probably bursting with deep emoticons.
And that I really, really want an ankle-length leather duster. With massive pockets. <3
And that I really, really want an ankle-length leather duster. With massive pockets. <3
I think I probably have a novel's worth of posts on this forum by now. That's kind of a cool thought.
Chapter One: Spam is Born
Thus begins my epic hectadecology, each book sitting comfortably at 200,000 words.
Thus begins my epic hectadecology, each book sitting comfortably at 200,000 words.
But seriously, you there--the one I'm talking to--yeah, you. Come write this for me. It's haaaard.
You're going in to the country music business?
Then you should be writing songs, not a novel.
Ooh, I'd totally write songs. Songs about cactus-squid and how they stalk the desert. Scary bastards.
Just change the cactus-squid to an imaginary woman when your pickup truck has broken down in the desert and you'll have the start of a song. Imagine the video . . . beautiful woman who turns out to be an angel at the end.
Well, the thread has been ignored for several minutes now, so it's obvious that the entire community hates me. No one ever wrote a novel for me, either. I'm disappointed in all of you, especially you, person I'm looking at.
/flounce
/flounce
Nevermind. Alleycat saved you all from my flounce-wrath.
I would never sacrifice my literary vision of cactus-squid for the sake of adding skin to the novel one of you lucky bastards is going to write for me.
I would never sacrifice my literary vision of cactus-squid for the sake of adding skin to the novel one of you lucky bastards is going to write for me.
I'll write yours if you finish mine. It's being a right s*d. Other people's ideas are more fun.
You do have an idea, right?
You do have an idea, right?
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I'll take you up on this. Let's see . . . for a title, how about . . . Runtleby Squid by Bartholomew Dickens.
Whether I shall turn out to be the desert squid cactus-killing hero of my own life, or whether that prickly station will be held by anybobbit else, these pages must show. To start off my life with the starting off of my life, I lay down that I be borned (as I told, and told you already) on a Friday, in a Chuck E. Cheese, at three o'clock. It was muttered and grumbled and hissed that the cock began to strike, and I began to screech, together at the same time, simultaneously.
I need a coffee break. Give me a few weeks.
Chapter One. I Am Borned.
Whether I shall turn out to be the desert squid cactus-killing hero of my own life, or whether that prickly station will be held by anybobbit else, these pages must show. To start off my life with the starting off of my life, I lay down that I be borned (as I told, and told you already) on a Friday, in a Chuck E. Cheese, at three o'clock. It was muttered and grumbled and hissed that the cock began to strike, and I began to screech, together at the same time, simultaneously.
I need a coffee break. Give me a few weeks.
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