Status: This is life.
A Story About The Family with no Name
The Family with No Name
I have come to realize (‘I’ meaning the narrator, Hello.) that we are surrounded completely by air. It turns out a young man named George has been very wrongly accused of making a satirical animated series based around Marilyn Monroe’s movie career, which is one of the biggest crimes in San Francisco today. George would be in big trouble with the law, however, he doesn’t live in San Francisco.
I am a man of many secrets. Pink lemonade is very important to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Now, my daughter is a very lovely young lady. I asked her how she does it, and she replies by saying absolutely nothing. Years later, she will reply by saying “Ich liebe dich” in a very thick Arabian accent.
I have come to realize (‘I’ meaning the narrator, Hello.) that we are surrounded completely by sky. Now, my wife is a very kind and fascinating woman and has a beauteous talent of sculpting relatively small figures of forks made of even smaller forks that are used by the Centipede Family from Across the Hall. My mother tells me this is a problem, but she is not aware that this is a normal thing for people of this era to do. She is, after all, an old woman. I was talking about my mother in the previous sentence, by the way, not my wife. My wife is not an old woman. My wife is…er…let us skip this part…
I hate playing piano. I am a horrible pianist, but my wife enjoys hearing me play. I don’t know why, exactly, but I think it has something to do with my shoes. Please don’t ask how I came to that conclusion.
It’s been I tiring week at my job. I am greatly ecstatic about it being the weekend. Recently, my daughter has fallen ill. I am surprised, considering she never goes outside. Ever. She also never eats or sleeps. This is why she is so lovely. I drilled a hole in her wall. Not for any reason in particular, I just felt like doing it. She smiled slightly. A few seconds later, my daughter was fine. She was no longer ill. I suppose any illness can be remedied by seeing your father drill a hole in your wall. I dedicated all of my time to my daughter the next day. We chatted away about the most famous men in American history, light bulbs, the speed of light, and religion for about twelve and a half hours. My wife then ran in, followed by the Butterfly Family from Across the Street. A cat crawled out of the nearest sofa. My daughter screamed at the Butterfly Family from Across the Street. “If that’s the case, we’ll go,” said the eldest daughter in the family. The whole family then became a puddle of blood on the floor. My wife was angry “Now I have a random stupid mess to clean up. What a pity.” She began mopping the wood floor. I pulled my daughter into a hug.
“Don’t touch me, Father. My body is made of silk.”
Then she walked away. How disconcerting.
I am a man of many secrets. Pink lemonade is very important to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Now, my daughter is a very lovely young lady. I asked her how she does it, and she replies by saying absolutely nothing. Years later, she will reply by saying “Ich liebe dich” in a very thick Arabian accent.
I have come to realize (‘I’ meaning the narrator, Hello.) that we are surrounded completely by sky. Now, my wife is a very kind and fascinating woman and has a beauteous talent of sculpting relatively small figures of forks made of even smaller forks that are used by the Centipede Family from Across the Hall. My mother tells me this is a problem, but she is not aware that this is a normal thing for people of this era to do. She is, after all, an old woman. I was talking about my mother in the previous sentence, by the way, not my wife. My wife is not an old woman. My wife is…er…let us skip this part…
I hate playing piano. I am a horrible pianist, but my wife enjoys hearing me play. I don’t know why, exactly, but I think it has something to do with my shoes. Please don’t ask how I came to that conclusion.
It’s been I tiring week at my job. I am greatly ecstatic about it being the weekend. Recently, my daughter has fallen ill. I am surprised, considering she never goes outside. Ever. She also never eats or sleeps. This is why she is so lovely. I drilled a hole in her wall. Not for any reason in particular, I just felt like doing it. She smiled slightly. A few seconds later, my daughter was fine. She was no longer ill. I suppose any illness can be remedied by seeing your father drill a hole in your wall. I dedicated all of my time to my daughter the next day. We chatted away about the most famous men in American history, light bulbs, the speed of light, and religion for about twelve and a half hours. My wife then ran in, followed by the Butterfly Family from Across the Street. A cat crawled out of the nearest sofa. My daughter screamed at the Butterfly Family from Across the Street. “If that’s the case, we’ll go,” said the eldest daughter in the family. The whole family then became a puddle of blood on the floor. My wife was angry “Now I have a random stupid mess to clean up. What a pity.” She began mopping the wood floor. I pulled my daughter into a hug.
“Don’t touch me, Father. My body is made of silk.”
Then she walked away. How disconcerting.
♠ ♠ ♠
I really will continue this.