Sarcasma the mutant muse dropped by and hung out with me all day, and together we created some passages that read like my main character's account of his sixth grade summer vacation. What can I say? I've been writing not-so-cheery scenes lately and needed to cut loose a little. So, if you promise not to hold this against me, I'm willing to give you a glimpse of the goobledy-gunk for your enjoyment, horror, or shrug-inducing apathy.
Here goes: Last winter my best pal died. It made me feel real sad--kinda like you feel when the top of your ice cream cone falls on the sidewalk and starts melting by your toes while you're left holding the empty, stale cone. Yeah, it was a lot like that. A sticky mess at my feet and me left with nothin' but emptiness.
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