Sunday, January 11, 2004
No more pencils, five more books.
I took a walk outside of town to inspect my fields of artificial sweetener cane, accompanied by His Sketchiness the Emperor of A Soda Machine. "Everybody needs a can of happiness," he said. As we walked, His Sketchiness mused about the true meaning of Skee-ball, and I wore hand-made knee socks with flair. Snowballs, birds, and exploding pens dotted the sky. In the air was a feeling somewhere between magnanimity and spleen. My elbows wouldn't leave me alone, and I was vaguely aware of Tunisia. Our walk stretched across seven and a half miles, two of which we traveled via potato sack. I couldn't be sure, but I had a nagging feeling that mine was the former abode of at least one carp. I turned to His Sketchiness and he started to speak, but before the words could come out, an ominous foreshadow fell on our path. Luckily, the Emperor was an acclaimed former champion shadow boxer, so he gave the foreshadow a boxing like it had never seen before. I started drawing a shadow portrait to turn over to the police, but then a thought hit me: what if the foreshadow was working for some other, much more sinister force? What if it was a mere shadow puppet? I took a few steps toward the foreshadow, and when it started to block the light from my vision, I began to have a definite premonition that something far worse was still to come.
Nothing else of interest happened on our walk, which is weird, considering how excellent and suspenseful an introduction to a story that would have made.
I took a walk outside of town to inspect my fields of artificial sweetener cane, accompanied by His Sketchiness the Emperor of A Soda Machine. "Everybody needs a can of happiness," he said. As we walked, His Sketchiness mused about the true meaning of Skee-ball, and I wore hand-made knee socks with flair. Snowballs, birds, and exploding pens dotted the sky. In the air was a feeling somewhere between magnanimity and spleen. My elbows wouldn't leave me alone, and I was vaguely aware of Tunisia. Our walk stretched across seven and a half miles, two of which we traveled via potato sack. I couldn't be sure, but I had a nagging feeling that mine was the former abode of at least one carp. I turned to His Sketchiness and he started to speak, but before the words could come out, an ominous foreshadow fell on our path. Luckily, the Emperor was an acclaimed former champion shadow boxer, so he gave the foreshadow a boxing like it had never seen before. I started drawing a shadow portrait to turn over to the police, but then a thought hit me: what if the foreshadow was working for some other, much more sinister force? What if it was a mere shadow puppet? I took a few steps toward the foreshadow, and when it started to block the light from my vision, I began to have a definite premonition that something far worse was still to come.
Nothing else of interest happened on our walk, which is weird, considering how excellent and suspenseful an introduction to a story that would have made.
