SirTessa: HIIIIIII!
SharkPuppet: You're..."perky"...tonight.
SirTessa: Yes! I am!
SharkPuppet: Come on. Just say it. I'm not going to ask, so just say it.
SirTessa: ...
ONE. DUCKING. HUNDRED. DUCKING. THOUSAND. WORDS.
BOOYAH MUTHADUCKA.
SharkPuppet: Nice screencap.
SirTessa: Innit just? A golden moment, pure fried gold with chips.
SharkPuppet: I hear you overshot by 23 words and had to do a quick count, ctrl-x and ctrl-z to get that screencap.
SirTessa: ...shuttup, SharkPuppet.
SharkPuppet: You can't even pretend to be affronted. Get your glee out of your system and stop fidgeting already. Dance, you stupid monkey.
SirTessa: :D
Section 1(a): Withheld from public consumption due to being complete and utter shit from a bull.
I never claimed any of those one hundred thousand words were any good.
8 comments:
Yee-hah! And another "Yee-hah!" for good measure. That's a very nice number. Very nice. Very round. I hope I get to read the words, when they're fully baked.
Milestone! (But I hope you don't have to cut off a finger joint every hundred thousand words.)
I hope the words are read one day too, Gillian (although right now they're doomed to stay locked in a box under the bed forever).
I am...what? David, do you know something I don't? I'm not sure I'd have started on this whole writing malarkey if I knew there was mutilation involved.
"Booyah" indeed!
Hey, you're the one with the scary bandage.
That's not a bandage.
That's Shark Puppet's cloaca.
I just figured that out.
Let me say, then, I hope you don't have to stick some body part in some cartilaginous orifice every hundred thousand words.
Post a Comment