Story

I wouldn't really call this a blog post, as i'm not really going to write anything, but I just felt like posting a short story I wrote today. It is rather non-sensical and jokey, but that's the intention; I wrote it as a birthday message to a friend of mine. Anyway, to cut to the chase, here's the story (i'm also going to include the prelude I added to the birthday message) :

 'Well son, it’s your birthday. As a present, I am going to share a life story with you, one that can teach you much about how to react in this coming year. You’d better be proud of it too, as this is what my whole life has been based upon till now.

I was walking through Camden, accompanied by many hooting wallabies, and a vicious gang of unusually coloured basketballs. It was about late afternoon, the time when time often stood still momentarily in the 1980s. I was walking back to my house, as it was too cold outside, and the basketballs were attempting to mug me; BUT TO THEIR GREAT DISAPPOITMENT, I AM NO MUG! (on a side note, I hate drinking out of mugs). I had been walking a while now, being continually assailed by those angry hot little balls of rubber we call baskets. A little while later, I reached the road I lived on. I walked up to my front gate and looked ahead, and I saw that in the place of my house, was a house shaped mass of air! It was as if it had disappeared into thin air. In fact, it had, for I suddenly remembered that my house was built from inflatable balloons. I looked to the sky and saw my room filled building floating away on the oceans of clouds. The balloons somehow interacted with the clouds and caused them to cry delicious tears of sweaty men. With this, I began to laugh with mirth and malice, because I love sleeping in air. I walked through my gate and opened my air-front door and lay flat on my air carpet. I thought a while, then got angry; the wallabies were supposed to stay in the house an prevent it from floating away. I sat up and stared at them (they were still clustered around me, the basketballs however I last saw running away carrying masses of swag) and caused them to form blisters around their nipples and turn an odd shade of purple. They were not phased by this it seemed, for they revelled in their new found glory and partied with the many shady strangers in nearby alleyways. I was alone for a while and wept. Not out of sadness or even out of joy, but because I was bored and had fuck all to do.' 

I hope this story has enlightened you, cheered you up, amused you, or even confused you greatly! Either of the four reactions would be great.