Hmm. I think I might have to actually take this in a story direction, in order to have it not get old. I actually have 2 whole people reading, incredible. Well as long as people are still reading, I guess I'll keep writing. That is how i tend to work. Who knows, maybe someday I can adapt this into a story and send it somewhere. ::shrug::

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"It grieves me that you think so, master. But I promise you one day, you will understand my true merit. And my ability may increase as your abilty to use me does. For I am a living sword."

Our hero made an amused, wry face, and it was safe to say, another inspid comment was imminent.

"I cannot but be disapointed in they true nature, O noble sword, for how may I rend mine enmies in twain with a sword that's SHAPED LIKE A COAT HANGER." To demonstrate, he swung the sword at his bed post, and observed it clang pitifully against the wood and then reverberate out of his hand and onto the floor. Thus it appeared to him in any case,as he still lacked the mage sight.

This time the sword stayed silent, for only time would change the hero's mind about the greatness of Terahedon


"What, no wry comment, O imaginary friend?"

Our hero was at this point merely wasting time, and reveling in a most unfortunate superiority conplex.

"Oh so you're my psychologist now? Wellhere, make sure you write down AGRESSIVE TENDENCIES" Our hero at this point made a lude gesture hardly worth troubling the minds of our gentle readers.

"Why can't you talk to me directly anyway? Didn't your mother ever tell you that refusing to talk to people politely is really freaking rude? I mean, b now, the whole "narrarator" shtick isn't really fooling anyone. Although, you are just a delusio, so I should just ignore you. Good point."

It is unfortuante that our hero starts off at such humble beginnings, and that he doubted his own senses so thoroughly.

"Hello? I'm right here acid dream. And why shouldn't i doubt my senses? I mean, a little thing can make them cheat. A drop of acid, a little meth. Why there's more gravy than grave about you."

As a means of marking where the hero starts, in relation to his amazing journey of development, it could be useful to say that Jacob Marley was one fortunate aparition to never grace the hero with his presence, as his warnings of ill-doing would be most likely met with an altercation and blows to the face.

Our hero laughed in that sharp way of his, and then his face wrinkled in the warning sign of another pointless comment.

"Well said, evidence of my mental stability. I'm glad you are developing some wit. I might as well be entertained while in the mental ward."

Abruptly, a new voice emanated from beyond the room door, in a most unpleasant and grating manner.

"JASSSOOONNNNN. TIME TO DO YOUR CHORES! WHO ARE YOUT ALKING TO IN THERE?"

Jason snickered briefly, and then called back through the door.

"IT"S ALRIGHT MOM, I"M UST TALKING TO MY INTERNAL CRITIC AND MY INVISIBLE COAT HANGER SWORD."

"OH, ALRIGHT DEAR. WELL IT"S TIME TO DO YOUR CHORES!"

Ok here we go. Part 2 of the exciting saga that is "Invisible Agenda". For all you readers out there, enjoy.

Well. I mean, here you go, nick.

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"Oh very clever. Ok fine, whatever. I'm probablly still dreaming, or woke up this morning and hit my head on the floor. But, what the heck. I'll play hide and go seek with you. God knows my life is boring enough anyway.."

Our hero finishes his modest denial of his adventure. Little did he know, that destiny had chosen him.

But before we can get to that, he continues to look under his bed, and knock suspiciously on parts of his walls, in a pointlessly paranoid manner.

"Oh yeah, I'm paranoid. Of course. Listen, what kind of screwed up narrarator is audible to the "main character"? And just who are you talking to anyway?"

The audience of course.

"What audience?" Our hero says, pointlessly dragging on in a dull manner which indicates-

"SHUT UP ALREADY!"

I communicate with the audience of the world, who will encounters this story, and be amazed that a simple country bumpkin could grow up to wield arcane power and save the-"

"Save the world from rampaging mutant hamsters or whatever. Yeah i get it. But how are they going to 'encounter' this story anyway?"

I transmit to them telepathically.

"Ok great. But could you maybe do that part silently?" Our hero asked, perhaps a little testily.

"Hello"

I am doing as you ask, great hero.

"Ok super, whatever. In fact do the whole thing silently. I like my delusions to be as unobtrusive as possible."

Our hero paused a few seconds,as if seeing whether the great voice of boundless wisdom had indeed left. Only grim silence greeted him. With a staisfied look on his face (but probablly secretly devastated on the inside) our hero proceeded to get out of bed, and dres shimself.

Just then, the Great Sword of Tarahedon called to him from the depths of his mind.

"What? Did you say ssomething crazy delusion?"

Hero, Great Hero!"

"Yeah, what is it?" Our hero asked, clearly masking his great enthusiasm.

It is I, the great sword of Tareahedon!

"No, it is you, the great coat hanger of my room."

For lo and behold, our hero observed the voice to be coming from a lowly plastic coat hanger, that began to mysteriously move toward him across the floor. He did not yet have the hero-sight, and did not recognize the mighty sword.

"In fact, i take that back. You're jut that guy again. The great 'narrarator" pretending to be random objects from my room. And let's go a step further and say that you're some nut job, who somehow put a mic in my room, and is now screwing with me for no reason."

"Come and claim me, mighty hero!" The sword pleaded. "Come and claim your power, and for you I will accomplish mighty things!"

"Mighty things. Such as holding up my coats?" Our hero quipped, though he may grow to regret his callous treatment of the honorable sword.

Our hero shook his head, and began approaching the sword/coat hanger. He picked it up, and in a mocking voice he trumpeted:

"COME MIGHTY SWORD OF WHERE-THE-HELL-EVER. I HAVE GREAT FOES FOR YOU TO CONQUER, IN THE CLOSET...

OF DESPAIR! BEHOLD, YE VILLANOUS SPORTS JACKET, O FOR WHO ELSE WILL HOLD-"

At the height of his comic splendour, our hero slipped on a conveinitely placed pair of boxers in transit to the closet. He bumbled forward in a genuinely comic fashion, ans slammed his head against the closet door. He rubbed his head, and said something uncomely of a hero. Then he looked back at the door. He sat there in a stonishment for a moment. For the door was gone.

"What the hell?" was all our still-gosling hero could manage.

"BEHOLD!" the sword in his hand heralded. "Witness you not the power that I give to you? Your room of fine robes has been removed from the realm of sensory perception!"

"What? I mean- uh, i not... witness... it. Uh. Wait. You mean the closet door? Ar eyou saying it's... invisible?"

"When you wield me, my master, anything may be removed from the minds of yourself and others, by simply gracing it, with your heroic presence!"

"Wait. Are you saying that the power the mighty coat hanger, errr..sword of kings or whatever grants me, is the power to make things invisible by banging into them with my head?"

"Indeed! Together we are unstoppable!"

"I'm sorry. but you have got to be the lamest sword ever."

Ok, here's the beginning of a random story taht experiments with form that i've been kicking around in my head for a while. I figure i'll get down at least a little of it today, in order to say that i did some kind of writing, at the least. I know, 4th wall violations are nothing new. But hey, who knows. That's why it's an experiment.

Italics will indicate things actually spoken aloud by narrarator.

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Invisible Agenda

By:



"Ughhhh, w- what?"Our hero says drunkenly, after waking up well past a reasonable hour in a most shameful fashion.

"Drunkenly? What? Who are you?" Our hero was getting paranoid now, and begins looking wildly from left to right across the room.

"What? I have a gun under my bed, just for special occasions where people break into my room and narrate me." Clearly our hero had regained his senses enough to snap off witty comments, but yet not enough to recognize a narrator handling his story.

"A narrator? Ok funny guy, well if your a narrator where are you? Show yourself."

You know, if you keep addressing me, I can't get back to the story. And i cannot show myself, you cannot see me.

"Invisible ay? Well where's your body? I'll put holes in that."

I have no body. I am the disembodied narraror voice.


"No body ay? Ha! Well fine then. Look at this, oh oh look what i'm doing, wow i'm using my body! Oh, wow! Bet you wish you could do this!"Having fully awakened from his stupor, our hero decides to cavort around the room, mocking the narrator, violating the fourth wall, and illuminating his deeply ingrained idiocy.

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Hahaha. Oh man. Well I dunno. What do you think, dumb? Should i go on with it? I have some silly ideas.

I was at work once, strugglinng to find a reason why over a thousand pieces of glass fruit should exist. The cause for this quandry was mostly because I had spent several hours straight stocking glass apples, glass bananas, glass papayas, and every other type of glass fruit imaginable.

Why on earth would anyone pay $5.99 for a glass apple you ask? Well I asked myself the very same question that night. And during my time of stocking the glass delicacies, I began hallucinating. I imagined that a tall man walked in the store. He was thin, seven feet tall, and wearing a hat.

Also he was made completely out of glass, including his hat. He would walk in, his feet making that tinkling glass sound on the ground, tip his hat and then buy a delicious glass apple. He'd polish it on his glass shirt, making shards of glass fly everywhere, then take a bite out of it and saunter off, melting into the glass window.

And then i'd wake up, and realize that i'd tried eating a glass apple and was bleeding from the mouth.

Ok that last part was a lie.

I had an extremely dumb idea for another Adam story. I dont thikn it would work, but me and paul had a funny conversation. It went something like-

Paul- "I need to go get an extra key made for my car. Probabally at Lowes."
Me-"The Lowes in Japan?"
Paul-"Right-"
Me-"They make the best keys in the world in Osaka, Japan you know."
Paul"..."
Me-"It's NINJA Key makers. They make keys before you even know you need one. Like-

Ninja key guy knocks on door. Guy answers.

Guy-"Yes?"
Ninja-"That'll be 29.95, American Dollar."
Guy- "Um, for what?"
Ninja-"Extra key, we make you."
Guy-"Buh? I never... i mean I don't even need- Well anyway, you never gave me a key"
Ninja-"Check wife pocket."
Wife (from upstairs)- "Honey, can you get another key made for my car?"
Guy looks with puzzlement at ninja, and then shouts back up stairs.
Guy: "Um, check your pocket dear!"
Pause.
Wife: "Oh, thank you!"
GUY turns back to ninja and hands over money.
Guy: "You guys are good."
Ninja bows, then vanishes in cloud of smoke, leaving behind flyer.

NINJA KEYMAKERS
You need Key, you get key.
No asking required.

Ok i should prolly go pass out, but quick penuche story first.

Penuche is my dog. He is old and kindof senile. Which of course makes for a large amount of hilarity. I think his vision is starting to get bad. Unfortunately, his hunger hasn't abated at all though.

He was begging for food the other day. So i decided to find out exactly how bad his vision was/strong his hunger was. I took out a butter knife from the drawer and dangeled it over him. He feebly tried to go up on all fours to beg for it. I figured he couldn't see it at that distance. Ok. So i lowered it down to his level.

He immediaately opened his jaws and tried to bite the kitchen knife from out of my hand.

Yikes. I yanked the knife away.

Either his blindness/stupidity have reached unheralded levels or he's developed a taste for kitchen knives.

Though, hey who knows. I mean i've never actually tried it myself.