One Minute Story That You Should Probably Read

Reads: 91  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
As the title suggests, you should really read this story. I mean, seriously. Read this story. You should. It's going to be an awesome story. I actually have no idea what the story's going to be about, though. But I do know some people you should check out. No, not like that! Ew! I mean you should read their stories! Christy R. gets a shout out for entering my Absurd Newspaper Article Contest, and Beany for commenting on it. The next people are the people who commented on my other stuff since the last story. Rik Lowe... That's it. Sadly. My friend, Broster Toaster, has ditched me on Booksie and got a second account to post stories that she didn't want me to read, but you should comment on her stories to see if she comes back from the dead. Or could you tell me her other account so that I can brag that I have awesome fans, even though most of the people here have never heard of me before?
If you read this far down here, you should comment and say that you read all the way down to here. I'm sorry to be that person, but would anybody like a fan for a fan? If you fan me, I'll fan you back and give you a shout out or two. Enjoy the story!

Submitted: November 25, 2016

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Submitted: November 25, 2016

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Finally. I had time to write my daily short story with nothing in the world to bother me. It was beautiful. I was going to be undisturbed as I wrote the story that was surely going to get me rich and famous. The peace and quiet of the house was going to help my mind make the most perfect story ever.

The fly thought otherwise, for he had days to ruin. He set his target. The sadistic fly was going to launch full speed into the target, the hole of my ear. It buzzed in, but my reflexes were spot on. I flinched, through my computer off of my lap, and went to brush my ear off. We both were close to our targets but missed. I knew at that point that I would never be able to make a story to get me rich and famous. I gave up on that ambition and moved on to killing that pesky smile.

The fly, chuckling cheekily in a steady position, set his course to swoop in on my lip. Its target was hit. The amount that it tickled my lip was unbearable. I went to swat it off.

After five minutes of the continuous torture, I was going to get my sweet, sweet revenge. The fly had landed on the carpet, at about 11 o'clock. I was going to strike at 9:27 AM. I was armed with only my hand and my arm. With perfect speed and precision, I was swung at the greedy, sadistic fly. My target escaped. The target was now at 6 o'clock. I turned so that it would be at 12 o'clock. It was on the corner of the TV stand. With perfect agility and precision, yet again, I swung at the offensive abuser, the abusive offenser. I was successful. I washed the goop off of my hand and was proud that justice was served, and also violent.


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