For those of you who don't know, sometimes it is easiest to write what comes to your head. Now this might not make a lot of sense, or comprehinsible, or...actually be a story....but let's see if it works itself out.
Once there was a boy who lived in Detroit in the 1980's. He was riding on a skateboard, wondering if he could catch a falling star. A man in a trenchcoat comes up to him, and tells him "no, you can't." "How can you read my thoughts?" asked the boy. "I wish I knew. Blame it on the stupid author and his stupid ideas." Suddenly, the man turned into a chicken. The boy rides on.
He runs into Michaelangelo, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. "Don't do drugs." he says. Good advice Mikey. He gets on his surfboard and says his trademark "Cowabungaa!!!!! Let's get that Shreadhead, even though he probably not appear in this story." Then Dr. Robotnik shows up, then disappears because I can not figure out a proper plot device, and I don't want to turn this into a crossover. That's Friday's story.
Arthur Dent shows up with his magical towel. Why? Well, easy, and Douglas Adams can explain it. I'm not that smart. So let's move on.
The boy is now running away, because my improvisational skills are teh suck, and n0w 1 am start1n9 t0 sp33k 733t. However, he cannot escape from the brittle imagination he came from. Anyways, some green blobbie thing shows up. "I want your towel!" the creature growls. "How many towels have to appear in this story?" thinks the boy.
7 times. 7 times, odd boy.
Anyways, through magic, the green blobbie thingie was very slow, and the boy was able to get away from it. However, the troubles were still coming because of the way my beutiful mind wanders.
Next, a giant griffith materializes on the sidewalk. "You shall not pass me." "Why not?" asks the boy. "Er....uh......because I am a salesman! My name is Edward Eagle. I sell insurance and insurance accessories. Would you like a taste of my insurance settlement? It comes in grape!" "Yuck, I hate grape!" says the boy. "Fine. but don't say I didn't warn you. People die in this guys's stories." "I'll take my chances." said the little boy.
After 5 more miles of hard walking, the boy is at the steps of his house. His mom let's him in for milk and cookies. "How was your walk today, dear?" asked his mother. "Ah, you know, same boring stuff." "Is Edward bothering you again?" "Kinda, he had grape today."
In another continent, a caveman finished chiseling some blocks. A letter was on each one. He built a grid, 13 x 13. He called his other caveman friends. They picked rocks, and made words. Harry got a triple letter score.
I have no idea why I thought of that.
The little boy asked his mom, "Can Mike stay the night, pleeeeeaaaaase!???!!" "Yeah, please m'am?" asked the mutant. "Why of course!" Mother said. "Righteous notion, tublar mother!" said Mikey in his stereotypical surfer dialect.
And, the rest lies in oblivion.
Seriously, that'e the end of the story. Sorry for the let down. I should have something better tomorrow......
........hopefully not similar...........