Let's Start with a Story, Children...

I need a break. My thoughts are swelling up like a...like a...LIKE A FLUFFY CLOUD. YEAH. In short, something I like to call information overload. Thoughts about the One Direction fanfic I just read (I regret it -.-), thoughts about the story I am currently reading, thoughts about the story I just wrote, thoughts about my novel, thoughts about camp, thoughts filled to the brim with philosophy...HELP. IT HURTS.

Information overload is dangerous for people with small brains, you know. :I

So, uh, to clear my head, I'm going to write you guys a neat little story.

But not a story with a nice complicated plot like the kinds I would write if I was writing fo real. Nope. Not happening. Stories like those require thinking, and that's the last thing I want to do right now.

Okay then.

Sit on my lap, drink some hot cocoa, and let's read a story, child...

WAIT NO I DIDN'T MEAN THAT FOR REAL. DO GET OFF MY LAP, PLEASE. YEAH? OKAY. OKAY.

So, where do we start?

How about with making the protagonist? For non-writers - or people who are allergic to complicated words - a protagonist, as you know, is someone I'd like to call the good guy. Sometimes though there are a few stories that cast the bad guy as the protagonist, so I guess the main meaning of that word is "basically the guy you follow around for the whole story".

Let's see...I don't want to make up a name so...

I KNOW. I'LL MAKE YOU THE PROTAGONIST.

Since that means "the guy you follow around the whole story", that means you'll be following yourself around. YEAH! This appeals to both Forever Alone-ers AND rabid stalkers! :D

So, anyway...um...I guess we should make a scenario...a scenario that doesn't need much thinking...

How 'bout this?

You are sitting alone in your room. Or, well, maybe not in your room. You could be sitting in the living room. Or the kitchen. Or the toilet for all I know. And maybe you aren't alone. Maybe your dad's there. Or your little brother (although you would much like to prefer calling him a derping ape). Or maybe a little someone called kidZ who's peering at you through the windows right now...do tell me you're not in the toilet, please.

Anyway, bottom line is: you're sitting. Or lying down. Or - whatever.

You're doing something, and you're existing. There. That fits most scenarios.

Currently you are reading a blog post by some crazy girl. She is currently bored. She is writing a story. LAME. But, then again, my fair protagonist, you know who else is lame? You. I mean, pretty much only lame people read lame stories.

...

I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings there? D: Aw. Don't cry. Here you go, man. You can sit on my lap if you want.

WAIT NO I DIDN'T MEAN THAT FOR REAL. JUST - DO GET OFF, THANK YOU.

Fine, I'll leave the insulting part out:

Currently you are reading a blog post by some crazy girl. She is currently bored. She is writing a story. ____. But, then again, my fair protagonist, you know who else is ____? You. I mean, pretty much only ____ people read ____ stories. (There. Now you can write that in with whatever word you wish. Like "cool", "bombastic", "awesome"...or my personal favorite, "Batman".)

When suddenly, a unicorn bursts through the wall-

You don't like unicorns? WHY? D: EVERYBODY who's ANYBODY simply adores unicorns. They're fabulous creatures of fabulousness.

And anyway, since when did I ever start caring about your opinions anyway?

...

Okay then, you convinced me. You AND that chair you are threatening me with.

So you don't like unicorns. Fine. Ninjas it is, then.

When suddenly, a ninja bursts through the wall and brandishes his smelly foot around. I don't know how you brandish a foot, but, yeah, let's go with that.

"Tick-tock!" he demands.

"What?" you exclaim, jumping back in surprise. (I do hope you're not in the toilet right now, because jumping back would be a very bad idea unless you like getting soiled toilet water all over yourself. Mm. Yummy.)

"Tick-tock, tick-a-lock, muga muga lick-a-lock?" he continues, as if he expects you to understand his language. Or maybe he's just having no trouble commanding you to, you know, lick a lock. Ew.

You glare at him. And, if you are at the toilet (I KNEW IT), you may have even pulled your pants up even. "Excuse me, but I'm busy right now?"

"Bu-sy," the ninja replies curiously. He tilts his head. "Bee-zee? Dung dong lock bee-zee?" He points at himself. "Bee-zee?"

"No. Busy."

"Bizzy?"

"NO. BUSY."

"You Bissy muga doonga?" he asks, pointing at you. He lowers his threatening foot and covers it with a sock.

The ninja is wearing ninja clothes. That much you could say. He has big brown eyes and little strands of bright green hair escape from his ninja mask. He's pretty much a normal guy, you can say, except for the fact that

a) he speaks like a Martian. A Martian cow. With a stick of deodorant for a brain.
b) his right leg has no joints. Whatsoever. It's like a little wobbly piece of Clay-Doh
c) HE'S A NINJA FOR CRYING OUT LOUD THAT'S LIKE THE AWESOMEST THING EVER

You try to make signs with your hand, pointing to whatever device you're currently reading at. "BU-SYYYY. BUSY. GET IT?"

"Busy. Get it?" he repeats.

An idea comes to you. "Hi," you say slowly - the ninja dude doesn't seem to notice the sweet, sweet cruel smile on yo face - slow enough for him to catch on, "HAAAAI."

"Haaaai?" the ninja repeats, "Hi? Hi! HI!" He jumps around the room, whipping at stuff with his weirdo leg. "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAI! HA! HA! MOONGA LA TICK-TOCK-A-LA HI!"

You get a towel, twist it up, and whip him in the butt.

He stops and looks at you with pain.

"Bad dog," you say firmly.

"Ba...dug?" the ninja repeats forlornly, pointing to himself yet again.

"Bad. Dog. Bad dog." You make a frowny face and do your best to air-draw a dog with your hands. "Bad. Dog. Get it?"

"Bad dog, get it," he nods sadly. He lifts up his weirdo leg to you sadly. "Nuga tick-tock-a-lick foom kasha. Ee go boom. BOOM." He makes flailing hands. "See nooga? BOOM."

You eye him. Is he flipping messing with you? "Boom? Really?"

"Bad dog, really," the ninja says, nodding. He still raises his leg to you as an offering. You hold it gingerly. It feels...like an egg yolk. Like your fingers are squishing a helpless little egg yolk. Ew.

And - double ew - the leg pretty much SEVERS itself off the ninja-

WAIT. NO. Not severs. Severs is too morbid. How about...

And - double ew - the leg pretty much ______ itself off the ninja (See. Now you can replace it with any word you like, like..."pops", "removes", "cuts"...or my personal favorite, "Batmans".) Now you have a jiggly egg yolk leg in your hand and a one-legged ninja grinning up at you.

"Tick-took," he says, gestuing at the leg, "Tookanaka go fwoom. FWOOM!" He cuts through the air as if he had an imaginary leg still attached to his butt. "Nooga, see? FWOOM! FWOOM! BAD DOG!"

You stare at the leg in your hand.

...

Okay. It's still just as ew as moments before. It's way better off somewhere else than your filthy hands. Maybe the leg would find itself with just the right wielder...yeah...and then it would become a neat scarf. Disgusting, disturbing, and disquieting, but still neat. (I love words that start with dis. It requires discipline and disassociation with any sense in your brain to keep dissing your disciples like dis. :D)

And so, you journey to the nearest river. And you decided to name the ninja Bee Zee, after the first sensible thing you've hear him say.

What will happen now to you and Bee Zee?

Well, this is exactly what-

OKAY MY BRAIN HAS RECOVERED FROM INFORMATION OVERLOAD. TIME TO GO THEN! :D

Haha. Well, peace out then! :3








What? You want me to continue the story? Preposterous. I know you don't even like it. COME ON. ADMIT IT. THE TRUTH WOULD SET YOU FREE. (Or in some cases, prompt me to continue stalking you in the toilet, but that's another story. Which I guess you wouldn't like to hear no matter what I tell you. o3o)

Come on, admit it. This was just a spur-of-the-moment, a little something to keep you and me occupied.

...

Huh? Seriously? You insist that you want the story to continue 'cause it's interesting? HOW IN THE WORLD IS IT INTERESTING? D: All I talk about is you in the toilet, and a ninja with an egg yolk leg...a LEG YOLK. (See my genius there? See it? SEE IT?! D:<)

Pfft. You just want me to continue the story 'cause you have a crush on Bee Zee.

HAHA LOOK AT YOUR FACE NOW. I FOUND THE TRUTH NOW. ADMEET EET. YOU LIKE THE NINJA AND YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE SO YOU GET TO CYBER-STALK YOUR WEIRDO CRUSH.

Well if that's the case then I will continue, I guess. Out of pity.

...

AFTER I break the news with my friends on Facebook that YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON BEE ZEE. HA. HAHAHA. AMUSE ME WITH YOUR DESPAIR, READERS. >:D PEACE OOOOUT, ROMEOOOO.