Short and pointless stories

It was a dark and stormy night.
I sat huddled in front of the computer, attempting to type up some useful blog post.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
At this time of night? Who could it be?
“Who’s there?!”
Silence.
Must have been the wind.
But wait, there it is again!
“Who’s out there?!?” I inquired.
“umm…no one?”
“Oh good” And I went off to bed.

It was a dark and stormy night.
For the second night in a row I was parked in front of the computer, trying to get the words from my brain onto the screen.
I finally resorted to typing since telepathy obviously wasn’t working.

It was a dark and stormy night.
Why is it always raining?
Should I be building an ark?
I wonder if the roof leaks?
Guess I’ll find out soon.
Remember not to panic unless an elephant floats by.

It was a bright and beautiful day.
About freaking time.
I was again in front of the computer finishing up some repo….wait!
It’s finally nice outside, and here I am in front of this damn computer.
Not today dammit!
I decided to get up and go outside to complete some much needed yard work.
It was a grueling day and I almost got things accomplished.
I ended the day with a terrible sunburn.
Should have stayed inside.

It was a dark and stormy night.
Going through my gmail spam. I have to say that it’s more interesting than yahoo spam:
intricate sauerkraut
orange-throated mitis metal
out-of-townish ostrich-egg
opium-drinking passive-minded
I don’t even care what they’re selling, but those are some quality subjects.

It was a dark and stormy night.
I should really move to another city with better weather.
The dogs looking at me again.
I can’t tell if she wants out, or to eviscerate me.
Can’t take the chance.
Better put on a sweater and put down some newspapers.

It was a rather blustery night
I shouldn’t spend so much time in front of the computer.
As it’s getting late, I decide that I’ve done enough computer work and head off to bed.
I’m jostled out of an almost asleep state by strange sounds overhead.
Much like people walking around.
But there are no floors above me. Were there people on the roof?
Could this be some elaborate plot to rob me while I sleep?
What’s that spot on the ceiling? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.
It could be a camera hole.
Who would want to film me?
I carefully get out of bed and head back to the office to grab the folding knife.
It does make me feel a little safer.
With knife in hand I head toward the spot on the ceiling. Poking at it with the knife, I discover that it’s just a missing piece of stukko, nothing more.
Satisfied that I wasn’t being spied on, I fold the knife and put it on the side table.
I crawl back into bed.
I wish I had a computer in bed.

—–

Gah!
This is why I don’t do NaNoWriMo.

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