A Story.

This is a bit strange for Idea Thunderdome, but I figured what the hell. I have some spare time here at work so I decided to write a short story. A tale of life, death, and the Mach III razor. It goes something like this:

So yesterday I was at the park and I began to wonder aloud if there was a way to split the atom. Upon realizing that I had no fucken clue what the hell that even meant, I stopped and began to shave in the public water fountain. So that was the excitement of my day, shaving in a water fountain with rusty water and a Mach III razor, but whatever, I didn’t care, my life was all ready over.

I was continuing back to my camper when I saw a cast-iron grill that looked like it needed to be grilled upon, so I spent the next five hours trying to rub two sticks together in order to spark the charcoal that I later realized was non-existent. It was now 8 pm and I had accomplished very little, I began to get the feeling that I needed to shave again.

Making my way back to the water fountain with my Mach III, I began to think that the grass really ought to be cut, or more aptly put: trimmed. At this point I began the process of fashioning a rudimentary lawnmower. This consisted of my Mach III and the two sticks that I was trying to create fire with. Luckily I also had dental floss in my right front pocket so I was able to tie together the two sticks. After repeated bashes against the grill I had freed the three razor blades from my Mach III. I then began to tie the razors to the end of the sticks. I have, at this point, mutilated my fingertips beyond recognition, but damn IT if that grass was not going to be trimmed. This is a public park after all, and if the public does not take care of it who will. After several hours of floss, stick, and razor blade [insert picture] I came to the conclusion that the blood loss to this point is somewhat un-bearable. Suddenly I remembered an old parlor trick that I heard about, you can cauterize your wounds with fire, so back to square one with my rudimentary lawnmower. Apart went the sticks and I was back at my attempts to create fire. Now, with blood dripping down the sticks I feel as though I am going to pass out, which I do, and that is pretty much where the story ends.