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Once upon a time, there was this guy named George who wrote in his blog. He always used the "Arial" typeface.

One day, he wrote about a fat kid who wanted to be President of the United States. He wrote:

Once upon a time, there was a fat kid who wanted to be President of the United States.

Then he stopped and stared at the screen. There was a lot of white space on there. He re-read what he'd written, and saw that it was good. "Who wouldn't want to see a chunky kid made President? That's hilarious!" he said to himself in a rather oblivious manner.

He continued:

This kid knew that in order to attain the highest office in the land, he would need to promise everybody in the country a free tub of Marshmallow Fluff in exchange for their vote.

George doubled over in a paralyzing hurricane of giggles. This was some of his best material, he thought, and set out to make this the Post to End All Posts.

He typed:

So he enlisted the help of Walter the Magic Dinosaur to help him win the hearts and minds of the people. Then he went and got a sandwich.

George frowned at the screen. That last bit kind of sucked. He considered backspacing, but George was a lazy man. He thought he might be able to get the post back on the rails without amputating the last line. "I'll just sort of write around it, as it were," he chuckled, poking a cat.

He wrote:

But this was no ordinary sandwich, for it was crafted of bread and frogs.

"Oh, geez. That's even worse. Frog sandwich? Good name for a band, but...man," muttered George. He looked at his watch. Already getting pretty late. He looked at what he'd written. It stank. "But that's okay!" he said with an optimistic finger-jabbing. "I'm expected to be weird!"

"Yes, but not lame," pointed out his girlfriend.

George ignored this.

He typed:

So when the fat kid threw his hat in the ring, it smelled of frogs, and since this pleased Walter the Magic Dinosaur, Walter used his magic. Thanks to his friend Walter's help, the fat kid ended up as President of these United States! His first executive directive was to outlaw morons. Everyone lived happily ever after!

George thought this was pretty good. He'd pulled this one outta the fire, by Bob! He slapped himself on the back, hurting his arm.

"I could have done that for you," his girlfriend said.

"Hurt my arm?"

"Slapped you on the back."

He smiled winningly at her, and they both had some Fluff.