Looky here, time-wasters! I've decided to try to engage the public again. My last attempt didn't go over so well for one of two reasons: my car accident story was sooo stupid that it left no room for improvement, or because nobody cared.
In order to figuratively "give my ego a cookie," I will assume the former.
This new ruse of mine is a "choose your own adventure!" kind of thing. I will start a story, and offer several different branches that it might take. It's up to you, the Stupidity Indulger, to choose!
Fun? Fun. Let's begin!
The Road to Doom
"Aye, father, so 'twill be my first time out upon the land by my ownself! But as I have become a man over the last two half-fortnights, it is nigh time for me to venture forth. Surely you must see this," said Ernald the Whiny, son of Sven the Unreasonable. Sven clouted his son about the head with a hank of mutton jerky.
"No son of mine doth speak to me in such a fetid manner! Besooth and befrank! 'Tis mere twaddle you emancipate! Thou shall abide thy internship at yon blacksmith and learn the trade of the ampersand and blast fromage," Sven soliloquized. He straightened his neck ruff imperiously and shot his cuffs. Fearing he would be next, Ernald dashed from the room.
The Spankholm estate was a ranch encompassing many square furlongs and having upon it a cow and much sheeps. Ernald the Whiny came flailing out of the manor house and besought his horse. He found it in the barn, hoofing the ground with relish.
"I tire of the life my father has set up for me, Gelatin," Ernald said, wiping a single tear from without his eyeball with one hand and saddling Gelatin with the other. The big mare stood and chewed on Ernald's brownish locks. Ernald poked her fondly in the dapples. "Thou art a goodish horse," he decried, and formed himself upon her back. He took up the reins and with a hoot and a splash, dongled off into the countryside.
By and by, he came to a chicken vendor who was vending chickens. Ernald, who had not yet broken his fast that day, yearned to break it triumphantly and with great abduction. He reined up beside the swarthy, bearded fellow and dismantled.
"Good day, sir fowl peddler! How many pieces of gold for yon cockerel?"
"The brownish tan one? Or the tannish brown one?" queried the man continentally. Ernald thought for a space of time.
"The purple one," he said finally. "How many golden gumbies for that fine specimen?"
The vendor's placating smile dissolved and fell from his face with a spangle, leaving his visage cloudy and forsooth.
And now, time-wasters, it's up to you to choose what happens next!
a.) The chicken-seller is merely experiencing minor indigestion, regains his cheery disposition and sells Ernald the purple cockerel, which he mounts upon his hat for the panache this lends his appearance. He asks the seller where he might purchase a fine sub "marine" sandwich with which to quench his hungers.
b.) The chicken is capable of speech, is a source of unutterable powers, and gives Ernald the power of a marginally retarded sorcerer.
c.) The purple cockerel is actually a beloved pet of the seller, and he refuses to sell. This causes Ernald to become rampagey, and in the end he decides to purchase the tannish-brown one in its stead.
d.) Some children steal Gelatin while Ernald is haggling with the seller of chickens, and he is forced to take the bus from now on.
The option with the most votes by the time I've decided to write more is the one I'll follow. C'mon! It'll be fun. Trust me.