The first bite of the toast is not always the last.

A few moments ago I made a choice. It was to decide what I would be doing now. The choices were more gaming or do something constructive. Unfortunately no good servers are open at this time of day so I will have to resort to doing something constructive.

This brought me here.
Realising that the majority of my entries are random musings about life with the occasional dip into the surreal I decided to write some fiction, just for you guys.
"Awwww..." I hear you say, "He's so nice, just like a liddle bunny wabbit, who is a liddle bunny wabbit? You are....yes you are..."
To which I slap you in the face, "Don't patronise me."

So ideas for my story...
I know! I'll make it interactive! That way, I don't have to think of major plot points or characters... why all the hard work is already done for me!
Of course the down side being that no one will give me ideas resulting in no story but if no one gives me any ideas it will be because they wouldn’t have read it and most likely wouldn't read the story as they didn't read this post...
So really it is self fulfilling and quite nice.

Aw, screw it... I have nothing better to do right now. TO THE PEN MOBILE!


The Pen that Loved too Much
It was a pleasant day in August, the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. People were strolling down the sidewalk while teaching their children about kindness and humility. Overall not a good day to get hit by a truck, which is quite fortunate as our protagonist does not fall to this dreadful fate.
Our protagonist wakes up, slightly confused as his brain runs through the rountine checks before full consciousness kicks in. He thinks to himself: 'Where am I? Who am I? Why am I holding a Monkey's tale and WHAT THE HELL happened last night?"
Stumbling at the second question as the narrator hasn't named him yet, Charlie goes about his day.

Toast.
Coffee.
Newspaper.
All registered in his brain as he sat down to eat breakfast.
He stared blankly at a scratch in the wall opposite him and took a bite of toast.
'Toast.' He registered once more.
The doorbell rang.
'Door.' His brain registered. It then ignored this signal and turned to more important business, like his toast.
The doorbell rang again.
'Door.' His brain registered again not quite making the connection.
The doorbell rang the third time, this time followed by frantic knocking.
'Door.' His brain registered, it was sure he was forgetting something important, it just couldn't put a neuron on what.
"Duh-or" formed Charlie's mouth, slowly getting the hang of the state he now occupied 'awake'.
The knocking increased and much like how the Swallow flies south for the winter Charlie's brain was undergoing the slow and gruelling task of getting from Point A to B.
"Door!" Realisation struck and within the span of ten minutes he had collected all his belongings he could fit in a briefcase and was out the window running down 5th.
He hadn't even finished his toast.