The Story
The Story is a short-story composed by famous Russian authorAnton Chekov. It was written in the early 1890's, but many people hated it for it made no sense, and it baffles historians to this day.
The Story by Anton Chekov
I once made a monkey cry because I thought it was eating cheese. I then later realized that the monkey was not eating cheese, but in fact a banana. I cried, and then proceeded to eat my own feces. Once I was done eating my feces, I realized that I was not a man, but in fact a donkey with human fingers. Life was a merciful blur beyond that and I got on a plane, heading for Mongolia. The flight attendant looked at me and asked if I wanted Pepsi. I said 'No' and she then proceeded to cry and lick my toes. She asked if I wanted Coca-Cola instead, and I once again replied 'no'. She was hysterical and ate her hair and then vomited. Her co-worker then grabbed a knife and then cut her eye out and then shoved it into a passenger's mouth. I was sad, because I knew that the passenger who was eating that eye wanted a bun with butter instead. After that passenger ate the eye, he grabbed that knife and shoved it into his temple and screamed. His last words were "Drink my blood!". The flight attendant then drank his blood while punching a dog is the stomach. The dog then bit the flight attendant, and she screamed and then grabbed a knife and killed herself. The dog then ate the dead woman, as I looked with amazement. I then asked the other flight attendant who gauged her eye out if I could have some Sierra Mist. She grabbed a can, gave it to me then defecated in a tuba. The plane then landed, and the captain of the aircraft came up to me. "Bleh", he said, and then going on the runway, jumping into the path of an oncoming truck. The truck driver got out, scared. He screamed something in Mongolian, and grabbed a gun out of his truck and started shooting towards me. I ducked, trying to find cover. He screamed and I heard bodies fall to the ground with the gun shots creating a ringing sound in my ear. After killing around ten people, he shot himself, and fell to the ground. A car then ran his corpse over, with the sound of flesh and bones being destroyed. I then vomited. I wanted to get out of Mongolia, and then headed to the nearest ticket counter. I tried to purchase a ticket to Syria. My credit card was over it's limit, and the lady behind the desk said "Ching chong choo-choo!" while smiling too much. She then went to her friend, spit on her and then punched her in the eye. The other girl screamed, grabbed scissors and then stabbed the smily girl in the chest over 20 times. I wondered why the other girl would use so much force, because it was not needed. She just wanted to punch her. But she got mad and stabbed her. I asked her if I could go to Syria. "Yes, the flight should leave in about 15 minutes, I believe so. Do you like apples?" "Yes, yes I do." I replied. She then grabbed the heart out of her dead friend, and then offered it to me. I said no, and then she cried and then banged her head against the wall while shouting "Goobla". I defecated in a trombone. I ran to the plane, and got on board. I sat down and ate some sushi while watching "Happy Days: Edited for Arabian Viewers" on my television screen. The flight attendant asked if I wanted Pepsi. I said 'No', and I asked for a Sierra Mist. "I am sorry sir, no Sierra Mist here. Boopy dooty." she said to me. I was depressed from that moment on. The flight was relaxing, except for the fact the toilet was not working, and we had to instead do our business in a barf-bag. I had arrived in Syria, Damascus to be exact. Every one was friendly except my taxi driver, who called me a 'Dirty Doot doot American'. I was taken aback, and just got out of the stinky car that smelled like tobacco. Then a young boy came up to me, with eyes as white as snow. "I am a Punjabi boy, kill me please. I am Punjabi boy, kill me please" he said, over and over. I then grabbed a machete from a street vendor, and then stabbed him. "YOU HAVE BEEN CURSED BY MY MANY GODS!!!" he screamed. Lakshmi, a Punjab god, came down from the Heavens and then killed everyone in sight, except for me. She then asked if I liked apples. "Yes, yes I do" I replied. I then defecated in a flute, and then headed for home: America.