Meanwhile, a blonde girl materialised in the middle of the street. This caused Sarah to swerve into her in an attempt to kill as many people as possible. This only caused injury to the car.
Blonde: Whoa! What have I been smoking?
The woman walked away with a dazed look on her face.
Sarah: What a strange woman… I wonder if she’ll join my book club…
Reece: This isn’t the time or place! Our car has just been semi-destroyed and we’ve got a Terminator on our tail!
Janitor: Don’t worry I can fix it!
Sarah: Janitor! You can fix cars!
Janitor: Yes! I’m a janitor/nightclub owner/mechanic/stalker!
Sarah: What’s a nightclub and can you fix the car?
Janitor: Yes.
Sarah: Nightclub… yes… hmm…
OK now imagine that sort of thing....
... only FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY TWO PAGES OF IT! Yeah sounds like a pointless waste of time to have accumulated that much randomness right?... Yeah I wrote that... I wrote 422 pages of scripts and stories (and even a few song parodies) in the past year and a half. How on earth did I have the time? Well no one can really answer that question... Not even me really... and I wrote them all. I have collected a manifesto of old projects of mine, some completed, some finished a few paragraphs into them, all of them bizarre attempts to be funny... none of them written with any proper script formatting. Now really when you think about it that's kind of impressive writing 422 pages worth of comedy... until you realise it's all just weird stuff that occasionally gets so unusual people will just stare blankly before throwing beer bottles at my head... not empty ones that wouldn't as much but FULL beer bottles with lots of weight in the through... which reminds me...
Tricia: stop it! You know his feelings are delicate!
Zaphod: I wish his skull were delicate so the beer bottles I constantly throw at him will break his face!
Marvin: why don’t you drink the beer before you throw at me instead of after! I’m the one that has to clean your spit off the floor!
Zaphod: why don’t you shut up!
Marvin: because I’m not program-
Zaphod: shut up!
Zaphod: I wish his skull were delicate so the beer bottles I constantly throw at him will break his face!
Marvin: why don’t you drink the beer before you throw at me instead of after! I’m the one that has to clean your spit off the floor!
Zaphod: why don’t you shut up!
Marvin: because I’m not program-
Zaphod: shut up!
Zaphod threw a beer bottle at Marvin.
Bonus cookie points for those who can realise the blatently obvious (As in what that is a parody of... as in what masterfully written, brilliant and wonderful english comedy have I taken and torn to shreds into a pool of gibberish and repeditive crude jokes about how much people smell, hate each other and how everyone's a complete idiot... especially the person who wrote it) But where does all this idiotic nonsense come from? Well to be honest... it's how my mind works really. Because I don't think when I write these sorts of things... I go in with a basic plan (And sometimes no plan at all) and it just develops. Now this is fine and all but I get dragged down with long strings of nonsensical dialogue (In the longest thing I've written which was designed to be a feature film for my youtube channel the characters constantly bring this point up saying "Shut up! You seem to keep interupting me with long dialogue so the plot won't progress!" so really it's like they've broken the 4th wall... but other parts of it also try to re-establish the wall which sounds quite interesting... but it's not...) and I really sometimes take too long to develop plot... when really the long lines of nonsensical drivel is what inspires the plot. Somehow I start with a joke about someone having no friends into an epic story of conspiracies and evil clones and satanic deals with the devil and Australian parliament... It's just how my mind writes things... it just keeps talking and talking and I never make a second draft and then I go "This is now my funny thing!... Laugh..." and so there's dozens of scripts I've never made into anything because quite frankly... A lot aren't that good. Here is an example of how my mind develops plot from randomness:
Midget: Hello.
It giggled.
Mulder: Hi! I’m Mulder! Here’s a card with my address, pin number and workplace number on!
Mulder handed the midget a card and it grabbed it. It giggled.
Midget: Hehe… boom!
Mulder: So what’s your name?
Midget: Fire! Burn orphans burn! Ah ha ha ha!
Mulder: Nice to meet you too!
Captain: (over speaker) This is your captain speaking. Please fasten your seat belts while we prepare for take off. Thankyou that is all.
Mulder fastened his seatbelt.
Mulder: Aren’t you going to fasten your seat belt?
Midget: Mwahaha! Aeroplane!
Mulder: Ah! Of course how stupid of me!
It giggled.
Mulder: Hi! I’m Mulder! Here’s a card with my address, pin number and workplace number on!
Mulder handed the midget a card and it grabbed it. It giggled.
Midget: Hehe… boom!
Mulder: So what’s your name?
Midget: Fire! Burn orphans burn! Ah ha ha ha!
Mulder: Nice to meet you too!
Captain: (over speaker) This is your captain speaking. Please fasten your seat belts while we prepare for take off. Thankyou that is all.
Mulder fastened his seatbelt.
Mulder: Aren’t you going to fasten your seat belt?
Midget: Mwahaha! Aeroplane!
Mulder: Ah! Of course how stupid of me!
The midget giggled and the plane started to take off.
Well you see the midget was previously stated to be a pyromaniac which then causes him to blow up the planes engines which then makes the plane to crash into a secret government base in the ocean (I think atlantic...) where Mulder meets the man who is paying off some guy who has kidnapped scully and then subsequently saves the day... somehow... I forgot how he gets back to America but he blows stuff up as he does this. Hoorah! Oh yeah plus I totally parody Saw in that too... Oh yeah, plus all my characters seem to become drooling idiots... it's the only reason why anything ever happens... because no one is stupid enough to just stop and go "This... is stupid... I'm going home" I also think it might be because characters can only display intelligence lower or equal to the writer... hmm... nah :P Anyhoo, I write nonstop nothingness (as demonstrated in this blog) so who knows... in another year I'll have another 400 pages of weirdness to show you?
Here is an extract from wikipedia:
Steven Cummer, from Duke University's Pratt School of Engineering, said, "These are higher energy gamma rays than come from the sun. And yet here they are coming from the kind of terrestrial thunderstorm that we see here all the time."
Think about it...
Hehehe... Pratt school :P
CB the Movie Extract:
Guy 1: Yeah. Hello… yeah that’s me… what’s that? Fifty thousand pounds by the end of the week? Yeah…
Guy 1 puts his hands gently over the mouthpiece and turns to Guy 2.
Guy 1: Don’t worry it’s just a bunch of retarded terrorists demanding a ransom. I’ve learnt to smooth talk these losers into doing what I want.
Guy 1 puts the phone back to his ear.
Guy 1: Oh… you heard what I just said? Oh… hundred thousand pounds by the end of today now is it? OK… yeah… uh huh… my mother you say… no I don’t watch barney the dinosaur… oh come on the term “heathen” is so harsh can’t you… no? OK… yep… yes, yes I’ve already had that curse put on me before I keep telling you people I don’t have any goats to die of the plague… OK yeah. Bye… yes and so is your mother!
Guy 1 hangs up.
Guy 2: What do terrorists have that you need to pay that much for?
Guy 1: Oh they’ve kidnapped my girlfriend because she was caught infiltrating their camps in the attempt to free some Iranian hostages. Don’t worry she’ll escape soon enough and murder them horribly in cold blood…
Guy 2: That’s comforting to know…
Guy 1: Yes I know… it helps me sleep at night knowing that their rotting dead corpses will litter the desert…
(Pause)
Guy 2: OK you’re creeping me out now.
Guy 1: Yeah I get that a lot.
Guy 1 puts his hands gently over the mouthpiece and turns to Guy 2.
Guy 1: Don’t worry it’s just a bunch of retarded terrorists demanding a ransom. I’ve learnt to smooth talk these losers into doing what I want.
Guy 1 puts the phone back to his ear.
Guy 1: Oh… you heard what I just said? Oh… hundred thousand pounds by the end of today now is it? OK… yeah… uh huh… my mother you say… no I don’t watch barney the dinosaur… oh come on the term “heathen” is so harsh can’t you… no? OK… yep… yes, yes I’ve already had that curse put on me before I keep telling you people I don’t have any goats to die of the plague… OK yeah. Bye… yes and so is your mother!
Guy 1 hangs up.
Guy 2: What do terrorists have that you need to pay that much for?
Guy 1: Oh they’ve kidnapped my girlfriend because she was caught infiltrating their camps in the attempt to free some Iranian hostages. Don’t worry she’ll escape soon enough and murder them horribly in cold blood…
Guy 2: That’s comforting to know…
Guy 1: Yes I know… it helps me sleep at night knowing that their rotting dead corpses will litter the desert…
(Pause)
Guy 2: OK you’re creeping me out now.
Guy 1: Yeah I get that a lot.
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