I started a story, just to find out about

I started a story, just to find out about this site...

I dusted off my binoculars and surveyed the vast wasteland before me. It was strewn with misguided thoughts and mispelled delusions. I surged forth in my writing schooner.

I was after the big monster that had taken my literary leg. Call me Captain Elliot. I run this editorial schooner that has set sail in this wasteland. I imagine the crabs below

scavenging on the rotting remains of my prosaic limb. Free now of the literary pretensions contained in my ex leg, I hove too & set course in my schooner for the legendary land of

Proselessia, where the sun is always shining and everyone speaks and writes as if they were all dropped on their heads as children. Yes, now that my leg is gone, life will be

as lopsided as my skull, yet as brilliant as sunlight reflected off my bald pate. "No, don't write that down," I told Sonny, my biographer. He wasn't the brightest bulb in the box,

nor the freshest. I really hoped he would have bathed before work but alas, he didn't. I couldn't blame him though. My life was full of excrement ready to be put into print.

But asides from the usual office shenanigans, the day was as dull as it ever was. A slow news day if ever there was one. Although, come to think of it, I never did find out whether

they ever found my dry cleaning. Last I'd heard, Dr. Claw had stolen it for some nefarious purpose, and of course Inspector Gadget was incompetent as ever. "Go Go Gadget