trying to write the first paragraph of a thing
“Boy, it began to rain like a bastard. In buckets, I swear to God. All the parents and mothers and everybody went over and stood right under the roof of the carousel, so they wouldn’t get soaked to the skin or anything, but I stuck around on the bench for quite awhile. I got pretty soaking wet, especially my neck and pants. My hunting hat gave me quite a lot of protection, in a way, but I got soaked anyway. I didn’t care, though. I felt so damn happy all of a sudden, the way old Pheobe kept going around and around. I was damn near bawling, I was so damn happy, if you want to know the truth. I don’t know why. It was just that she looked so damn nice, the way she lept going around and around, in her blue coat and all. God, I wish you could have been there.”
-Catcher in the Rye, pg. 212-13
The clock whirred and choked on time. Springs springing loose, gears gruesomely grinding against one another, and the numbers loosing all face value. The clock, no longer a mechanism for measuring time but instead a cyclone of madness and rage, spitted out of control and screamed out into the room a violent wail of pain.
John woke from his slumber, looked up at the clock resting on his nightstand, and gently, still half asleep, tapped the snooze bar.
The mechanism took breath from it’s fury, and both it and John rested once again… For another five minutes, at least.
Favorite Titanic scenes: “So, you wanna go to a real party?”
Plot Twist: It’s a Gatsby party.
both ways he ends up dead in the water
Reblogging because of the comments. I just died.
My lovely followers, please follow this blog immediately!
Want to collaborate on a Google Doc with Nietzsche, Shakespeare, Dostoyevsky, Dickinson, Dickens and Poe?
Click here. Start typing. Enjoy the hilarity.
Ninja Update: Wanna see something fun? Mention Shakespeare in a sentence and see what happens.
Poe kept writing distinctly into my sentences so I wrote ”Edgar, you’re not funny” aND HE BLATANTLY DELETED THE NOT I AM SO DONE WITH THIS ASDFKJL
OH GOD IF YOU TYPE “EDGAR ALLAN POE” POE ADDS A :( AFTER HIS NAME PRECIOUS BABY
THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER
Dickens added something wordy and awful and so I wrote “Dickens, please, I am not paid by the word” and then he and Emily Dickenson had a fight over their own names.
This is the best thing ever.
this is cute but i wasnt going to reblog it
but after i spent like five-ten minutes on this, Dickens just typed: ”Procrastination is the thief of time, collar him”
this is the BEST
I AM HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS
Dostoyevsky won’t shut up about St. Petersburg oh my god
Charles Dickens is adding flames to my words, literally. it must be too boring for him so he’s invented a fire.
This website is pure genius.
Poe changed Emily to Lenore and then there was an edit war changing Dickinson to Dickens back and forth until finally Dickens changed it to Oliver Twist.
I got up from the couch, put on clothes, and left the apartment. I looked like shit, pale and exhausted walking the street. The sun burnt my eyes, but I kept walking. Walked ten miles in what seemed like five minutes to her house.
My old car is parked in the driveway. She’s home.
I sneak around the back to the back door. I kept the key, she never knew.
I open it up, and slowly sneak in. I close the door behind me.
She’s screaming in the bedroom, moaning some other guys’ name. My bed is squeaking, my bedpost banging against the wall.
The stranger in my head goes, “Told you so.”
I go to my living room and sit on my couch, and wait for her there.
After a while, the moaning stops. At first, it’s quiet, and then I hear the bathroom door close with a click of the lock.
I stand up. I wrap my hand around the revolver in my pocket and walk towards my room.
I smell smoke as I approach, and sure enough, there’s this muscle head naked between my sheets, sucking on a cigarette.
I walk into the room, he jumps up naked, but before he can even get a word out, I pull the trigger.
Falls like a ragdoll onto the floor.
I hear my wife screaming in the bathroom, still yelling this guy’s name, but not like before.
I walk over to my bathroom. This woman is hysterical! She’s banging on the walls, I hear things flying around in there, the shower curtains going back and forth.
“Jeremy!? Jeremy!? God Dammit Jeremy! What the fuck is going on?!”
I tap the nozzle of the gun to the door. Tap it three times against the door.
“Honey, I’m home.”