<p>This could be very fun if anyone is interested we can create our own little story. one person writes one sentence, someone else the next, and so on and so forth.
Whoever would like to attempt the first sentence please feel free.</p>
<p>I never thought anyone would accuse me of murder.</p>
<p>Me, a “normal” pig loving child.</p>
<p>After a long, horrible trial and conviction, I spend my days alone in isolation, wondering how to fill my time.</p>
<p>One day I started my plan to escape by faking my own death</p>
<p>I waited for the guard to arrive with my meal</p>
<p>The wait was endless, finally I heard the rattle of the chow trolly.</p>
<p>The last thing I can recall was the swoosh of the meal tray sliding through my cell door and the smell of spinach.</p>
<p>I must have passed out at the smell of the bacon on the spinach, mandarin orange, tuna, mushroom, tomato (those little sweet not-quite-round tomatoes, not the bitter cherry tomatoes, and certainly not chopped, sliced, or minced large tomatoes, which I never eat because the vitamins are destroyed by the violence of the chopping process) and olive salad that was my evening fare in the Puyallup Institute for the Criminally Very, Very Nervous, which I was pleased to eat every evening and which a generous female guard brought me in exchange for my giving her tuba lessons three times a fortnight, because I am a pig-loving person; owning my own copy of *Babe * in VHS, DVD, HD-DVD, *and * BluRay formats; plus copies of Gordy, Charlotte’s Web, and the Monty Python episode with Harold the flying pig, and would never want a pig, or even a hog, to come to harm, unless it was served with mashed potatoes, gravy, and a nice wine.</p>
<p>But I digress.</p>
<p>It was a dark, stormy night…</p>
<p>and Michael Jackson and I were sharing a cup of hot cocoa while we sat by the fireplace.</p>
<p>I was scared, and choked on a sip, while trying to act nonchalant.</p>
<p>Lying in quicksand can make one delusional.</p>
<p>As usual, I misplaced my dental floss.</p>
<p>So I went onto College Confidential, and low and behold there was another person who knew exactly where my dental floss could be found.</p>
<p>It was a wad the size of a softball – clogging the toilet.</p>
<p>As i enjoyed my newly found (and slightly damp) floss, i thought to myself, “this story is pretty disjointed.”</p>
<p>I got up from the toilet, pledging eternal hatred towards Oral-B as the more intelligent of my sons ran for cover.</p>
<p>“Nya Nya you missed me!” he sang out as the wad of dental floss went wizzing by his left ear.</p>