First line
Deliverance came today in the form of a third of a bag of stale Old Dutch Cheesy Puffcorn and fourteen pages of a schlocky Dean Koontz book.
Wouldn't that make a great opening sentence for my own schlocky Dean Koontz knock-off novel, cheesy teen romance, or tough-as-nails female cop epic?
It makes you wonder "Deliverance from what?" and "Did she EAT the stale puffcorn or throw it at some rabid wolverines to keep them at bay?" and "If there were rabid wolverines, why was she reading?" then "Wait, WAS she reading? Maybe she was using the pages to write SOS notes that she threw out the window to a passing troupe of circus clowns to enlist their help with the rabid wolverines." and finally, "But circus clowns wouldn't have been any help with rabid wolverines. It had to have been a passing woodsman who picked up the SOS notes written on the fourteen pages of schlocky Dean Koontz novel and rushed in to save her from the rabid wolverines with his mighty Stihl M S 192 T C-E chainsaw (fitted with an Easy2Start™ system)."
Puffcorn to Stihl chainsaws. I'm not sure how that happened.
Anyway, the deliverance was actually from morning fuzzy brain and 10 minutes of unscheduled time. And I love puffcorn, stale or not. It was just sitting on the counter, left over from last night's marathon essay-writing event (if at all possible, try to avoid writing essays about the play Hamlet if you don't have cheesy puffcorn on hand. Cheesy puffcorn is a key facilitator in composing one's thoughts on Renaissance humanism, Protestant reform, and Hamlet). And the Dean Koontz book has been sitting around my room, waiting for the odd minute or two when I need a respite from the real world.
Wouldn't that make a great opening sentence for my own schlocky Dean Koontz knock-off novel, cheesy teen romance, or tough-as-nails female cop epic?
It makes you wonder "Deliverance from what?" and "Did she EAT the stale puffcorn or throw it at some rabid wolverines to keep them at bay?" and "If there were rabid wolverines, why was she reading?" then "Wait, WAS she reading? Maybe she was using the pages to write SOS notes that she threw out the window to a passing troupe of circus clowns to enlist their help with the rabid wolverines." and finally, "But circus clowns wouldn't have been any help with rabid wolverines. It had to have been a passing woodsman who picked up the SOS notes written on the fourteen pages of schlocky Dean Koontz novel and rushed in to save her from the rabid wolverines with his mighty Stihl M S 192 T C-E chainsaw (fitted with an Easy2Start™ system)."
Puffcorn to Stihl chainsaws. I'm not sure how that happened.
Anyway, the deliverance was actually from morning fuzzy brain and 10 minutes of unscheduled time. And I love puffcorn, stale or not. It was just sitting on the counter, left over from last night's marathon essay-writing event (if at all possible, try to avoid writing essays about the play Hamlet if you don't have cheesy puffcorn on hand. Cheesy puffcorn is a key facilitator in composing one's thoughts on Renaissance humanism, Protestant reform, and Hamlet). And the Dean Koontz book has been sitting around my room, waiting for the odd minute or two when I need a respite from the real world.
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