"Helen, hell on wheels...."

I still am on hiatus but I don't want people to forget of my existence, so located at the bottom of this post is a rather interesting short story I started sometime ago. I had completely forgotten about this and perhaps for good reason. As you can tell it was more of an electronic scribble than anything, and who knows if I will ever flesh it out and finish the story. Make of it what you will.

Oh, in other news I have finished the Harry Potter series a few weeks ago. It was one of the best stories I have ever read! I also finished my fourth book "Animal Farm". I had read this before but it was a long time ago. All I have to say is poor Boxer.

I don't know what my fifth book will be. I was thinking "1984", but I have plenty of other options. Maybe I will read something a little lighter and then jump back into the Totalitarianism theme at a later date.

I have many ideas for posts but am swamped in the mire of life right now. One of them is a synopsis of "Animal Farm" using G-man's bath toys (they are farm animals). I will eventually get around to that. Until then enjoy the short story scribble.



“Artesanal
Provolone
Cheese
Spaghetti
Meatballs”


Hero:
Lengshaftian Meathlemet

Elf:
Lebian Marjriam

Heriione:
Nipplio Poccottous

Antagonist:
Roy Hemerald; a.k.a Goyatuar: a.k.a ?



Once upon a time there was a boy named Goyatuar. Across the stream and up the bank, among the Apple trees lived his friend Lengshaftian.
They were best friends. All day long they would throw rocks into the windows of the local Bait shop. At first they were scared that they would get caught, but they persisted.
One day Lengshaftian was on his way to Goyatuar’s house when he ran into a worm. The worm’s name was Roger.
Roger was a worm and he lived underground. But that was another story. Anyway, Roger told Lengshaftian all about the rumblings he felt in the forest. Lengshaftian laughed at Toader.
Yeah, Lengshaftian called Roger “Toader”. It was an inside joke…don’t worry about.
Toaders…err, I mean, Roger spat on the ground. His bottom half clenched into a tight ball, which jerked above his eyes and swung at Lengshaftian, who in turn, leaned away from the tiny thrust.
“Ha ha ha ha ha ah ah haha ha h ah ah ah h hh a h ah h” Roger laughed.
“Your insane.” Laughed Lengshaftian.
“’Hellene, hell on wheels. Ain’t nobody gonna know the table weaves.’” Sang longhsftian. These were, of course, the wrong words.