Here's mine, I wanna see yours!
http://www.fabioisonfire.tumblr.comThis is your paragraphOur hands have been locked for so long that I almost don’t even notice the tickle of your dancing thumb on the out of my palm. First you scribe only circles but then come the letters. You think I can’t see, won’t see, or don’t notice, but I can and will and do. Staring at each tiny stroke I mouth corresponding characters under my breath. As letters add up I realize that you aren’t writing anything coherent at all—just tracing sweet little nothings on the palm of my hand because whispering was never very ‘you’.
That's a sentence, bro.
Once upon a time, they all lived happily ever after. The end.
A sentence is a paragraph on its own anyway…
In my high court of story telling we do not count 'the end' as an acceptable sentence for a two sentence story, good sir!
Once upon a time, The End came, and everyone lived happily ever after… in the Mojave desert.
One time, in a galaxy about 2 feet next to the milkyway galaxy, there was a planet called blarg. On planet blarg there were beings called blargians. These blargians make a living off destroying stars and harnessing the energy within them. They don't give a crap about planets with life on them, because usually the life on them is very miniscule and useless, such as tiny bacteria. But one time, the blargians came to earths sun and tried to destroy it, apparently the blargians are really squishy, so we blew them up, them Americans always love their explosions. Then no one gave a crap cuz the blargians didn't get very far and no one even noticed the crisis at hand. The end.
Once upon a time, a guy died. And not a single fuck was given that day. FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER FILLER.
^There's your paragraph.I wrapped the latex string around the neck of the bag and headed out the door. It would have been nice if you were there, it was cool and quiet and we could have just stood there and taken it all in. But you weren't there, so I just ran to the can and tossed the bag in as if it were filled with severed body parts. I hung around for a few seconds then I rushed back in. …
I regret rushing in. I don't deserve this house, and it sure as hell doesn't deserve me. "Please come back", I said. "I want to leave, but not without you."For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.
It's been billions of years. My physical body, as one would properly understand it, has long since suffered the trials of decomposing, disintegrating, being absorbed into the cosmos from whence it came. The land now barren, the stars all dead or dying. I just wish I had the long-lost privilege of mobility. Don't know why I'm still here, why I can't leave this empty world. No life, no spirits, just the universe and I. At least it's all one big cycle. At least, I hope it is.
Shit, stories are supposed to have a beginning and an end, right? Well fuck me purple, I must be some raging dipshit or something!