Apparently, for 100 bucks, you can make me do anything, like make an effort.
Hey, despite what you may think, I'm actually trying on this one.
Yeah, I'm writing a story with a theme about running. It's my first time on Prose, and I'm taking advantage of the no entry limit. What do you care?
Am I talking to you? Well I don't see anyone else here. I'm talking to you, the reader. I'm writing an obnoxious dialogue between me and you.
What, you don't like that? Then read something else! I don't care. Come on, tough guy, make me regret this! Read this at the appropriate speed, pretend you hear my voice!
This definitely falls within the rules of the challenge. The whole existence for this story is running. It's all about running! Now that I've said it, no one can prove otherwise!
Yeah, I left the faucet running. Just for this special occasion. I'm hoping the 100 bucks will pay for my water bill. I also ate some spicy food so now my nose is running. More importantly, my thoughts are running rampant across the page.
This is how I usually write. I type whatever first comes to mind and check for grammatical errors. I typically listen to music at the same time. Not now though. Let me quote myself here.
"They went well together. Science fiction and neo-fantasy. Impulse fiction spurred on by random music and a fast heartbeat. Half-formed ideas smashed together with a child’s foot. Like a jigsaw puzzle. Motivated by cheap erotica and impatient mood swings. Does anyone know where this is going?
This is fiction. Saturated with words related to science and fueled by dreams of fantasy. Held together by comic books and animated videos. Stories running away from drugged psychotic neon-colored vampires between flooded alleyways that stink of evil. Imagine how cool that’d be."
It's nonsensical isnt' it? But it's me. My heart and soul is poured into that passage, but of course I didn't give it much effort. It's a note to myself in a notebook of ideas. I was writing for this challenge and I thought, "Hey, this would really fit here." I don't give an effort. I make spontaneous plotlines and use all of my brainpower just to think of the next word. I don't cook with gas, I don't pick up steam, I don't run on horsepower. I run on adrenalin. Wait a second, there's no spellcheck?
That's my life. I make an action and I don't spend a second regretting my decision. I'm charging through life guns blazing looking to get my next kick in. I'm on a crash course with (or is that to?) infinity and the day when I just wake up and realize how stupid I was.
Just now I had what I was going to write next and I forgot it. I went to get a glass of water and it left me. That's the problem with my ideas and sentences never fitting in together or flowing well. I forget. It happens.
I'm done. I've ran *nudge* *nudge* out of ideas.
I had fun with this. Thank you.
Too bad it's all fiction.
That's right, I just rendered this entire passage meaningless.