A Story To Never Be Finished

This is the contents of a file on my desktop, wherein lies the beginnings of a that which will never be completed, for reasons obvious and unquestionably likewise.

Young, freshly-intrepid Tobias meandered into the kitchen with the determination much the same as a grandfather clock's to annoy the shit out of your houseguests at the stroke of midnight. In his left hand was an item most hidden, to be revealed at the most beneficial moment in time.

He spoke to his father for the first time as he believed a man would, ripe with demeanor and candidness, albeit sounding like a saucy tramp, as he had failed to succumb to puberty for what he would later describe to his first girlfriend and grope-partner as "the seventh in a long line of soprano years".

He announced loudly to his father, proudly, and with pectoral thrustingness, "I have made horror in your cabinet of tinycars."

Young Tobias then revealed the contents of his left hand to be a sliver of feces, most foul. The methane snake was worthy of no man's anus, lest it be the anus of a man whose sole diet contained the excrement of his own anus and nothing more, except the occasional drink, coincidentally from the same flowing source.

His father later described the following scene as "revealing, for the first time, that Hammurabi never anticipated shitting on your kid's complete collection of McDonald's Batman Forever Glass Mugs as a fulfillment of his code."

The file was called "poop.txt". In the spirit of its name, it's been sent to the Recycle Bin, where it was shortly-thereafter emptied.

I had made horror on my desktop. Thank you for allowing me to wipe my ass of it.

And likewise, in the spirit of Hammurabi, I invite you to make horror on this post. But not in the same manner as young Tobias; it is hard to type a comment when your hands are covered in your own shit.