Inspiration & Hair (Bloody bags!)

before beginning this article, I would like to apologize for the disturbing title. I was originally called it "Inspiration & Hair (How Dry I am!)" But decided not to. Because that would steal. Right. On to article.

So It Begins, I said dramatically as I climbed a pillowcase that folded beneath.

Clomped in rapid succession by a mattress, a rope, a pillowcase (empty) a head (less so...feathers) and a baseball. Not a baseball bat. A sort of small animal.

THE CHALLENGE. This is the challenge. This part of the article, right here, the bold part. The challenge is as follows. Turn on your television. Then turn it off again. Yeah, I know it's not much of a challenge, but that's because I failed. My challenge. Not this one, .

Saxophone can smash through door.

Like battering ram only with a spit valvle incomplete sentence

I told a story once, then I told it again but it was different.

Okay, here's another cahllnge. Go out into the street, say hello to the first person you meet, draw a picture of them, then leave it in a publick place.

See how long it takes before you find your own picture next to oit. IT. NOT TOU!Q

Beeeep! It beeps when the pressure becomes too great. Like, a hihg-pitched sound. Kind of shrill and annoying. Like a microwave whose trap failed. So to speak.

VOMIT rolls down the hill. Flowing from argentina, on a mission to be the first ever vomit to circumnavigate the globe. He's in a tight race with SNOT, who's in a tight race with him. Haha, tight.

If you are expecting some sort of TALE, then you are much mistakne, much much mistaked my friend. Freind? How does one spell that word. Frend?

ASIDE FROM THIS ONE. The origin of the word "pancake."

The origin of the word pancake (How Dry I am!) OPPS!

There was a Doctor by the name of Mr. Thomas Brewery, who once spilled some batterthat he used to give patients heart attacks (so he could cure them, or at the very least, give them some sort of useless medication), into a pan. A frying pan. On an oven. He used to put it on the oven everyday buit never cook anything in it. I'm not sure why, even though I'm the one who made up this story.

Anyway, the oven cooked the batter into delightful, circular, fluffy, golden-brown goodness. Thomas smeared it with Maple Syrup, butter, and grease, and fed it to his dog. The dog seemed to enjoy the taste very much before it had a cardiac episode several seconds later Thomas decided to patent this invention and I decided to stop putting punctuationn in the story that I said I wouldnt write but then idecided to write it and it had a lot of typos and it was kind of confusing. Then I put in punctuation and CORRectly Caiptilazd and spelled.

So anywag.

Thomas said "I must come up with a name for this invention!" The spirit known as Sprigly, a sort of semi-divine being in charge of giving objects new names, popped up out of nowhere and said "If you wish to give this object a name, you must prove yourself worthy! Do a task for me!"

Thomas said "I would be honored, priveledge, and so forth."! It didn't make any sense.

Then Sprigly said "Very well. You must fight, and slay, this bacteria!"

Sprigly pointed at a table.

Thomas said "What bacteria? I can't see it!"

And Sprigly said "Are you saying that you, sir, can't fight somethihg as small as a bacteria? Are you surrendering to something that is so much lower than you on a cosmic scale that...uh...yeah?"

Thomas said "No way!"

For eight years, Thomas tried to slay the bacteria with a sword. But it was no use. He couldn't see the bacteria, and he had forgotten which shelf his microscope was in. Sprigly was getting bored.

Sprigly said "Just face it, you failed. I refuse to give you permission to name this food. Bye!"

Then sprigly disappeared in a very dramatic puff of fire, smoke, and cottage cheese. Or it might have been some other type of cheese. But it was cheese. Or leedduc. I can't spele that wor. Or that oen.

DSo anyway, Thomas was devastated that he couldn't name his food, until he suddenly realized, "Wait a minute, I don't need PERMISSION to name a word!"

He opened a dictionary randomly to the words "Pan" and "Cake." And that, dear reader(s) (x) is how the word "pancake" originated.

CLAP CLAP CALP CALP

Wasn't that splendid? And now for a philosophical musing that has very little redeeming value of any kind.

But even before thaT: OUCH OUCH OUCH OUCH och OUCH KNEE, KNE KNE KNEEE KNEE KNEEEE

okayyy. Time for a philosphical th...hahah

Who are all these people? You ask that question as you look out a window. He asks it as he drives by your window. Everyone askes it and no one answer.s.

Thatw as quick and painless. like a muffin.

DELIVERED sppeedylyyyyyyyy except replaced with brococollii1

by the meandering lunch woman packaged foul in societyyyyyy

I just used a buynch of words thast end in yuyyy yyyy or iii that's q aletter.

Progress? Progress?

Let's take a moment to observe the electrical outlet. A hole in the wall, like a window, only small (er), before we go and stick something into it. It is very dark inside, like a cavern, only small (er. ). Spelunk! Suppose tha tsome minute creature spends its life time exploring the inside of the electrical outlet for the benefit of bacterium everywhere. Suppose that {what the hell is that clock doing on the bathroom floor in a puddle of urine}?. That was grammatically incorrect. Therefore, intestines.

No more of that dismemberement s'il vous plait.

It's all rubber now. They burn barbies barbarically, but by bubbles broken.

There's a cup in abag with "bright" on the side and on the top there's a pink ribbon. It drifts in the wind, even though there is no wind in the house. I breifly look up from this mesmerizing paperclip to investigate possible sources, before I return to the compelling task before me, whatever it is.

There's a cup in a bag with nothing on the other side about to be executed for treason against the rest of the desk, angry, english, sort of muddy, living inside a barrel.

I have no idea what's inside the cup. The cup is in a bag, and the bag will not open. Not without scissors. No! No scissors! No no no 1!

A green box emerging from a three dimensional and a half box with another box nearby and an infinite supply of boxes for an infinite supply of boredom with an E fascened tightly to the end that high-pitched whistling is gonna detatch someone's brain someday..

A coughing fit seizes <<insert main character>> and a drop of bodily liquid is expledded from <<his/her/it/earplug>>'s nose and onto the bag.