Story-Telling for Kicks

Look at this boggus.

Who wrote this crap?

I don't understand.

Now that can't be right.

Dammit all, I don't have a clue what I'm doing. Hold on though, the light is flashing. What does that mean? Is it counting down? Do I start now?

Is this thing on?

Hello, and welcome to the first ever night of Story-Telling for Kicks. You are...

It's not on is it? Well why is that light flashing? Hmm...

Tap, tap.

Ah ha, this is better. Can you hear me now?

Oh...hold on, there's the signal that tells whether I'm on or not!

Oh...

Aha, I apologize for this unprofessional beginning. A few technical difficulties resulted in a slight misunderstanding.

But now we may get underway. I am your host for the night, and the authors I'll read from will be introduced as they come.

To start the night off, we have a writer who goes by the name of Olius Brightwell. Olius Brightwell has written numerous comedies in which character are caught unaware and...

And the light just turned off. In the middle of a blooming sentence they cut to commercials?! This is ridiculous. Who's running this show?

...I don't believe it. I was cut off by a commercial for Barbie Goes Clubbing. I have never been so insulted...

Wait...I take that back. They're sending me instructions. What's this? They want me to have more personality? The nerve! Right! They want personality! I'll give them some f**ing personality!

Three--two--one:

Welcome back from the mindwash of modern advertisements! I sure hope you're all content to now sit through creativity and intelligence--you know--things that take thought and effort to follow! Hey, maybe if you stick around we'll grab some audience members and make them eat snails!

But wait! If you call in and make our phone lines hop, we might even give away big manly trucks! You know--the trucks that we'll just happen to mention every third sentence! Oh, and if you're really lucky and peck away at that redial number, we might even give you a trip to mexico, complete with five of your very own mexican slaves!

Dammit...well that didn't last long. They've cut to something else. HA! They want me to tone it down a bit now, do they? I see they didn't actually mean personality. They meant for me to be false, cheery, and attractive. Don't test me, you damn producers because here comes Mister Suave!

Three--two--one:

...

The End

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