An Introduction is in Order...

Well then hello to this Blog of Madness. I'm not sure exactly how these things work, and if someone is going to even read this. But first and foremost, my grammar sucks. Not my creators grammar because he writes like this on purpose, but mine... which in turn carried off to him and in turn carried off to me...

The Picture to my left, or shall I say, to the left of these words, is Kalan Segal. He is my mentor and is responsible for my advanced form of whale talking. He's also the man to talk to about tea and how, it's better than coffee. I for one, boycott tea and rather drink myself into oblivion at a bar. Just the other day, I was at a bar, and was approached by a half white, half retarded woman.

"Is anyone sitting here?" She asked.

I quickly rushed the alcohol down my throat and held my breath. I mean, I know she was ugly... I could smell her when she walked in. So, I made myself really dizzy and disoriented and looked at her.

"I believe there is. You should ask the chair." I said as I gestured for another drink.

I quickly began to think of the things that people think about when they're picking someone up at a bar. What kind of guts did it take to that? I was simply stumped, fallen to the mysterious of the human social system. I didn't understand it, and wouldn't have any of it either. So I was-

"There's someone sitting on it." She Said.

I stared at her, then at the seat in a peculiar manner. "So there is." The drink made it's entrance with a quick exit down my throat. Enough of this madness. I stood up, and walked to the bathroom. In the stall, I heard a neighboring stall user throwing up, the other...well, you cold imagine. And then I found myself, little me, nodding myself asleep. A couple of white Russian's and I'm done for.

The door is then kicked open.

Here, at my most confused and staggered moment, I find myself vulnerable. A would be black man, suffering from a pigment disorientation, which so happens to be blind, swinging a stick at me.

"Is anyone sitting in here?" He moans.

I couldn't answer. I was frozen.

"Hello,"

I was stuck in a part of my mind. What to do, what to do... I though of my mentor, Kalan... but I don't think he covered this in one of his lessons.

Should I:

A) Pull my pants up and leave.

B) Ask him to stop and finish.

C) Walk out and wait till later.

D) Punch him and run out.

E) Finish and let him figure it out.


Oh, and I'm guessing that all the choices had to end with a question mark.
But I didn't really want them there.... a question mark can be distracting and a little
scary, you know?


-Frankl Horowitz

P.S.
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