Are you bored today?
 

There was a thread that was done where whoever starts the thread begins a story, then the next poster adds to the story, then the next one adds to that, and so on and so on. It can get weird because you can make your part go in any direction you want. So...

 

There was a bored fuck

who broke into his mothers room to find that her room was full of sand

dollars! So he got a shoebox and

carefully placed his dead grandmother's ring-finger; a grim memorial of christmas past.

He then had a Pot Noodle and monged out to the SYG board, scratching his pubes. Putting his head to one side, he realised that he had caught crabs from Morrissey. Or was it from Death In June's Douglas Pierce?

Then in a superise attack Morrissey jumped him from behind and

spun him around.

"I'm about to show you that not all "fake meat" tastes fake", The Moz whispered in a voice not unlike his dead grandmother's.

Morrissey then preceded to decapitated himself before the bored fuck, thus permanently removing himself from any trans-dimensional narrative that might have been taking place. Following this, the Sun was extinguished.

then the moon reigned supreme, motherfuckers.

shit. i really need to learn how to disconnect my webcam

the bleeding head of Morrissey exclaimed.

three hamsters that were dressed-for-bear had also been decapitated.

two rings and half a roll of thermal paper later, his PETA contract had been permanently cancelled.

i'm tired, but not able to sleep. this is annoying in the extreme.

"...said demonrail666, who then proceeded to throw on some clothes and run out the front door, where he suddenly...

heard Mr. Sway say this:

proceeding this event demonrails followed mr. sway to draw artsy pictures of...

i slept, but not sufficiently to now be described as sprightly

Teetering on the edge insanity, our protagonist seemed to have lost all traces of boredom from his mind. In its place were rambling voices recounting sleep cycles and fingerprinting. His sand dollars and pot noodle spilled across the carpet below as he felt the ebb and flow of causality. Refresh, cause, refresh, event, refresh.

then, suddenly....

a gaint pile of sugar that exploded

and morphed into a gelatinous orb of

shattered in the moonlight

. This was an ill omen for our hero.

The shattered crystal refracted the dim light, and in a prismic effect, created a hologram of Lou Reed. The hologram of course did not talk, but from the grimace, one could sense that the hologram was thinking, "That motherfucker Cale has stolen my thunder. Again."

Morrissey stew. but not just any Morrissey stew. this one had

dead chickenheads how are

wha wha chicky wha wha chickenheads are how many folks get their jollies, but what does that have to do with the price of grain in Waziristan?