whaddya think?

well?

real, sham, edible?

it looks like a cross between Artemis Fowl and Faerie Wars

The Horrors

This is the third anniversary of our troops going into Iraq.

Woah!

I really thought that this would ever happen but somehow I have put myself in enough of a mess to get my nanowrimo online, so here goes nothing:

PROLOGUE
The discontented NEC PowerMate V100 purred away quietly while sitting dramatically on top a musty old plastic covered shipping box. This computer had little purpose but to process useless data that was throw at it by any and all people that attempted to use it, today it's user was an small tactful old man of Asian dissent. This man was the last in the long line of Mao revolutionaries that had for many long years held absolute control over the large fertile plans of northern Africa since the year 1900. His name was _______________ and it was his duty to pass on the responsible of northern Africa to the next Mao revolutionaries in his line. The only trouble was that the was no one else left, he was the last in his line. Many days had passed by since he had last eaten, fortunately he was trapped in a large room with no doors. This room looked much like the inside a large glass cube, except that it wasn't glass. It's walls, ceiling, and floor were made solely of flat sliver metal, that was so similar to stainless steel that to the naked I it looked exactly like it. In the center of the room sat the heavily saddened ________________, in front of him was the small grubby CrystalScan 15 monitor that served to display any useless or useful information that the NEC PowerMate V100 computer sitting next to it decided to send it via a fourth of an inch SpaceShuttle VW-1 30 volt style 2919 AWM computer cable.
Elsewhere in the world there lurked a dark meaningless plague that could obliterate the human race within a month of its release, but most fortunately it was lost in a small house fire somewhere in southern India.
The following story is of many things that have many meanings and many truths. If you are discontented by any of it please be reassured by the simple fact that; I don't care. So please enjoy or disregard you brain or lack of brain and do not read onward lest yea seek forbidden knowledges.

-The Heir of Esicks

CHAPTER 1
A wide dusty road stretched lavishly and precariously out over the flat sandy plain of hard but fertile land. This land served only as a placeholder in an atlas for the barren waste of space that it was soon to become. To its east a great sun shone hot upon the packed earth of the road, illuminating the fresh corpse of a careless rodent that was stupid enough to stand the way of the small convoy of heavyset trucks that had passed over it not too long ago. If followed, the turbulent road would lead far into the deep forest of deadwood and cold metal that most of the pseudo-civilized world today would refer to as a city. Lurking in the far well-lit corners of this city there was a small, pitiful neighborhood constituting most of sewer rats and rich people. On the ninth floor of a ten floor high rise about a block away from previously mentioned neighborhood; at one of its many windows sat a young dreadfully [handsome?] boy that if one had not known him personally, the person in question would have payed equally or less then the attention they would give to a dead rat. Suddenly without, any outside disturbance, the boy, startled by his own thoughts, fell over backward and then just as suddenly started laughing maliciously. In his mind he had been imagining himself opening the window in front of him and jumping to fall upward until he collided with an horrible purple painted popcorn vender that loitered aimlessly at the foot of the large gray high rise in which he sat. His startled movement that had thrown him out of his imaginary world of his mind was caused by the sharp icy thought that he had totally neglected to put any gravity into his phenacaine daydream, which, in thinking it, had so startled him as to cause a great muscular spasm. This in turn caused him to realize what a stupid mistake he had made. To him it was exceptionally funny to neglect gravity because gravity was such a universal phenomenon that it in itself was such a dire mistake that only the clumsy hands of god could have caused it.
This event in itself had nothing to do with cats, deadly plagues or even the unheard of, extinct Japanese Hulachino fish. But in the most deep depths of symbolism it may have had a minute relation to the reason that water when shaken up and down for three days and three nights will turn red. Other than that, the passage above had no purpose other then to confuse and manipulate the reader's brain cells so as to cause the reader Alzheimer's in his or her later years.
In many years to come the daydream and the startled convulsions would have much greater meaning to the boy but in the time of the present it did not. So the boy, shamed by his self-humiliation stood up and crossed the large empty room he was now occupying and came to the front of a flat rusty metal door that at one time many many years ago had once born the words "SMOKING SUCKS AND SO DO YOU, IF YOU THINK I'M KIDDING THEN CALL MY AGENT AND I'LL COME TO YOU STINKING LITTLE CARDBOARD HOUSE AND SHOVE YOU FAT STINKING HEAD INTO YOUR MOM'S FAT STINKING..." The rest was worn away into an illegible mess by the irreverent sands if time. To the boy the writing was all but a meaningless mess of symbols and dots, he could not read any of it, even that he passed by the door almost every day, he only excepted it as a plain rusty door and in being that that he had take the mess to be some type of abstract rust pattern and therefore was meaningless.
The boy opened the meaningless door and walked slowing under it's rusty door way. In front of him was a particularly wide staircase covered haphazardly in a thin algae like substance, he admired it for it's translucent mystery and carefully stepped over it. Until at last he reached the foot of the stairwell, here in the foot it was dark dusty and dank. It took his eyes a minute or so to adjust to the morbid gloom, when adjusted he saw another featureless door almost exactly identical to the previous one seven floors above. He hesitated for a second and then overcome by a restless curiosity he push it open a was immediately blinded by the fearfully bright glare of the sun. For all the warmth this sun may have provided it was still cold outside on the foreboding street that squatted helplessly in front of the boy. It cut surreptitiously through the sprawling mess of building and street grids of which it was an obvious part. Unphased by the cold the boy surveyed his surrounding and in a great moment of indecision decided it was best to sit. So unwittingly he sat, a unknowing victim of the unforeseen lingerings of chance that fatefully waited to strike. As sitting he poised himself, a disturbance broke the air. It was quiet at first, a silent drowning of sound, seemingly unnoticeable at first but then unbearably deafening Silence as a drop of water in a lake the boy quickly leaned forward to pick up a small all but unnoticeable coin from the ground. The silent noise grew louder, if it had been as a mobile being it may have seemed to advancing unconventionally hastily toward the general area that the boy held his presents in. As a bullet shotting over a motionless sea the frightful presence of the sound buffered itself around the staggering walls around the street that the boy stood upon. The cold of dawn no longer of any value to him the boy gathered him self for the attack, the sound was but thirty meters from him and quickly advancing. Fondling the coin he a just obtain but a second ago, he readied it also, rubbing the muck of the road of it gracefully. Not but ten meter to go the defenous sound accelerated into the sharp dive of a falcon soon to kill it's prey. The boy also steadied himself, waiting for the opportune moment of action. The impenetrable wall forced its way forward knocking loose debris into the air as it went, the boy's breath slowed to a unheard whisper. Time bent effortlessly to the malicious forces of speed, the two beings interlock in a battle that was to fate them both, a battle to determine the fate of most.
Unfortunately, due to loose footing the author slipped out of context and, being cut by sharp verbs in the process, start to spew grammatically instable words. This unfortunate happening had come to pass many times previously but not to such a dreadful extent. You see, dialogue is not the easiest thing to write (the easiest being monologue, because it only takes one person), to write dialogue one must take a large number of things into consideration, these things are, consequently; (a)the amount of tea consumed in the last 36 hours, measured in liters, and only liters; (b) whether or not the author has a rabies vaccine; and (c)if the author is morally incorrect in character. Depending on the results of those three objectives, dialogue will be, (1)utterly impossible, (2)fall onto paper like a Linux box on crack, or (3)simply pain the author until he or she doesn't even put any dialogue their writing. This is the way life works, no matter what those little-headed politicians say to them selfs and their wives, life is this: Cheese does not grow on the moon.
The gruesome battle of rabid soul continued on for quiet some time while the demonic spirits possessing the sound and the strong hearted boy braved on. At the total of six minutes and seventy-one second the conflict stopped abuptly, for as everyone in their right mind know dioluoge can not be withheld in a battle of more than seven minutes. As it goes the diolouge went like this:
"Long long ago in a galaxy far far away-"
"Stop that."
"Why, young Luke?"
"Because whenever you start talking like that you alway end up running away."
"..."
"Eh?"
"... maybe."
"Enough of this foolishness Luke, the dark side is strong within these parts-"
"And stop it with the 'dark side' too."
"Of course, master Obewon."
"Master Obewon o_0?"
"Yes, jedi lord of the-"
"Would you just shut it about jedi for a while, eh?"
"..."
"So, about the shutting?"
"What? What? Oh, of course, the weather is wonderful. ^_^"
"Bugger..."
"What?"
"I said bugger, as in bug-er, like bug-ger, savvy man?"
"What?"
"You know man the bling bling in the hood just chillin' round the crib' with me homeys."
"Dog-what-what?"
"j00 kn0w wh47 1'm l4y1n6 d0wn 8r07h3r, 3h?"
"What-cha-ma-noodles-huh?"
"Go away."
"What?"
"I said, 60 4w4y."
"Uh..."
"Noodleface!"
"Huh! Huh! Big nose!"
"Fat mouth!"
"Uh, uh, little brain!"
At this moment the boy pushed off the dry ground into the air and attacked the demon with an the uncanny air of a dolphin shooting into empty space. The wind was taken aback. It have little else better to do started yelling.
"Help! help! I'm being mugged! Somebody! Elp!"
"Zip it in the voice box, smuggles!"
"Huh?"
Taking full advantage of the situation the boy pulled a half of a broken chopstick out of his garments and preceded to slice the windy demon into a minimal sixteen pieces until it noticed it was under attack. This event goes to show that only the slowest of beings is so dumb as to undermine the meanings of dumb and begin to upturn the dank soil of stupidity. This being it was not long until the creature had fled in a vain attempt to save itself for its ultimate distuckting.
The boy calmly whipped the lethal weapon of the broken chopstick clean of any uncleanliness it had come to process and slowly placed it back into the haven of it former resting place. Done with his hygienic practice, the boy continued along his path as if the subtle disturbance had never occurred

(OMGWTF!! DID I REALLY WRITE THAT!!!)