I have lost my sense of nonsense. It needs to be found as soon as possible. My (in)sanity has been suffering from irreparable attacks and all my healing potions have been consumed in attempts to write, write propah fiction that I am working on on the side (Not like it helped a lot, but nevertheless was worth a try.)
I didn't know I would ever post a proper personal blog entry on any of my blogs but unfortunately, the time has come. I wish I could carry an axe in my pocket only to fish it out at the right moment and then start attacking people. Hey, that gives me an idea, attempting to write, and documenting that attempt to write.
The Axe Murderer
In a far away land lived an axe murderer. He was so passionate about murdering people that he started carrying a portable folding axe in the back pocket, the one in which he did not keep his wallet. He invented the special axe himself. The axe murderer was rumoured to have an IQ of 190. He loved Sharon Stone though. One day, he swore upon his own axe that if he ended up killing Sharon Stone by his axe, he would end his life. He never met Sharon Stone in his entire life. He did meet another axe murderer who after sharing a cup of coffee swung his axe straight through the centre of his chest.
Hmm, not a bad attempt at all. But definitely not a good nonsensical story. For example, the story did not at any point make you go, gasp, or WTF? It was just too simple to be nonsensical. There were no interrupting aliens or surfer dudes who interrupted that coffee date and not even a poster of Sharon Stone. Let's try and modify this ghastly attempt.
The Axe Murderer
Axe Murderer, the early days:
In a far away land lived an axe murderer. He had a beautiful wife who called herself Sharon Stone. She did a few movies like Basic Instinct. Axe Murderer, yes that was his name, was so passionate about murdering people that he started carrying a portable folding axe in the back pocket, the one in which he did not keep his wallet. He wasn't that bright as a child. When he was six, he had fallen straight on his forehead and damaged his frontal lobe. One particular day when he was 16, he met a bunch of aliens who were riding motorcycles and carrying giant surfboards which had tiny blue flying saucers printed on them.
Impressed by his axe-work and getting drunk on all the human blood that flowed, the aliens gifted him the ultimate folding axe. He loved Sharon Stone though. One day, he swore upon his own axe that if he ended up killing Sharon Stone by his axe, he would end his life. He did not end up killing Sharon Stone though he did meet another axe murderer who ended up raping Sharon Stone and driving the axe through her skull. Our hero was seriously pissed and committed suicide by hanging himself on his fan.
Here's a rough visual representation of how things happened:
Now, that's fairly decent nonsense but unfortunately, it doesn't have the required brevity that is needed to transmit the nonsense over from my side to yours. Though, you may note a new development in the style by adding images which are not necessarily coherent. Among other things wrong with this nonsensical story, the sentences are longer and not as tight as they need to be. But well, Fuck you!