- Books, Literature, and Writing
Inane Episode 13
The bearded octogenarian race towards enigmatic calamity started with a wallowing thud that evaded perception by even the least inquisitive of participants. The surreptitiously deranged score keeper, wearing orange undergarments made of a combination of hemp, silk and tissue paper, narrowly widened the shallow depth by the most expansive minimalism. This either enabled or disabled no one in particular.
At twilight, when the cloud cover left four year old kitchen appliances in the back yard, a fragrant satchel listlessly rested. To have done otherwise would have been outside the possible outcomes of a battle between a carpenter ant and a carpenter's aunt. This was relished by the aqueous solution that did nothing to solve the problem of overpopulation as combined with the incorrectly matching left shoe. The other way to look about such things, being a lugubriously hatched visionary, would be to take acrylic paint out of a tube.
When the curtains closed, it became harder to see.
Ken's sister Sparkle, while whole and fraudulent, did not keep from preventing something from not happening. This was done as an intentional accident. I should know.
Sparkle then, while drinking her morning decaf in the sunlight facing just slightly north of east, paused. After the pause was over, she paused again in a way that an outside observer would not have noticed that there were two pauses instead of one longer one observed. This fallacy, while not particularly important, denied Sparkle the opportunity to keep from not pausing undetected.
The left brain, not knowing how to measure the square root of prime numbers, also liked to dance until dawn immediately after the summer solstice. Other solstices, however, did not get as much attention. The right brain, as usual, slept. The wrong brain, as usual, was wrong.
Selling a craft that eludes comprehension is much like spelling words with an alphabet of your own creation and expecting a hip-hop dance teacher to bake a chocolate meringue pie made of parsley and felt. Adding adjectives after the fact, much like post editing a tomato into an ivory tower, is never the best thing to do on a Tuesday mid-morning. Likening the variety of adverbs to the destructured seismic graph used by Sparkle to brush her teeth, is not the kind of thing done by ordinary people.
Keeping on the same theme, let us make verbs. There, done.
Finally, we come to nouns. A noun, once rendered, would create the unfathomable, shortening the ends from one side to the other next time. There may have been an extra word added in the previous sentence, if not
Again, would an inane hub be sufficiently inane without an incomplete sentence? Or how about lacking a question? Should this whole paragraph be made up of questions? Should this next sentence be a question? Will this paragraph ever end? Do kites in the shape of a pickup truck, when flown in a large bowl of peanut butter, elicit the same yelps and high pitched squeals as a pulled dandelion near the southern side of the house?