Cricket wanted me to update, haha, you know you hinted.
Ack, I've been writing on this short story of mine for about a week now. I only have three pages of it. It's such a stereotypical story, too. You know when you get that feeling and just have to do it although it's been done trillions of times before? He's an excerpt:
Charlie Nelson had long legs, narrow waist, small thoughts and hair you could fist and pull and would never break. Charlie’s clothes never laid the wrong way, her words were short, to the point. The way she moaned Ian, smiled when she moaned Thumper, made me crave her even in the tense situation I was in head deep. Thinking about Charlie Nelson helped my marriage and my “career.” It rescued my mind when midlife crisis knocked on my door. I hid my clothes from those extended pleasure trips just to smell her again.
That's my favourite paragraph, haha.
I'm also working on this stereotypical, zombies are attacking the world and everything. I just love writing fear and anger. So, to get started on that one, I just have to get in the groove of my words. BLAH.
I was looking through old entries on my blog the other day and read the first flash short story on that entry and, hahhahahahaha. sladfn dsofjdp. hahahahaha. I forgot I had said that. That's hilarious.
Then, something I don't think I ever put on here, wait, I did... A sentence worth.
Anyway. This is how it went:
Me - Cricket, I think that's a cop.
Cricket - No, it's not.
Me - I think it's the Sheriff.
Cricket - No, man, it's not the Sheriff *takes puff*
Hahahahaha, it WAS the Sheriff. One hell of a funny moment.
You should write a story about how I aligned the planets of every universe by playing such a mighty rift of rock on my cello which tore open a portal in heaven and hell and made bunnies heads explode whilst killing a thousand unicorns. Of course there's a lot more action in than that, a little romance here and there. You know the basics of my life.
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