So, lady and gentleman (from what I can tell, approximately two people read any given entry on my blog), I'm gonna trick things up for you this week, partially because I'm sick as a dog (throat feels like I got intimate with a cactus), mostly because I think it'd be fun.
You ever play that game "And Then"?
You know, where somebody starts off a story, finishes their paragraph with "and then," and you get to say what happens next?
Let's do that, via comments!
Starting with:
Jeff wished he could be more cheerful about the end of the world. If he only had ten minutes to live, it seemed to make sense to make them happy. He'd tried whistling a zippy tune, only to break into aching sobs; tried getting laid one last time, only to realize he couldn't pick up a girl that quickly; tried getting drunk, but the bar'd been cleaned out already.
And then...
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he sat down and decided that if he wanted to be happy, he might be able to do it just by reflecting on his past a bit. He thought of his mum, his ex's, his ex's naked, his mum naked... then he stopped and realized he was a horny, lonely prick who knew the world was going to end and all he wanted to do was get laid and cry in a corner.
And then...
Grabbing the nearest bottle of gin, he ran out into the street, because surely, there would be another person out there that only wanted his one thing. The laid part... crying in a corner is unproductive and emo.
And then...
He finished the bottle of gin, worked up some liquid courage, shouted a bunch of obsenities at any passerbys and staggered his way over to his x-girlfriends house where he woke the next morning to find that it wasn't his x-girlfriend's house at all.
and then ...
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