Looking out over the canyon, Stan wondered

Looking out over the canyon, Stan wondered how it had come to this. The last thing he remembered was jamming in the suppositories and then it was all a blur. He had a faint
fleeting feeling pheasants frolicked, fastly feckish. Farting fetid felines festooned frogs fastidiously. The suppositories probably were spiked. Now awake, Stan surveyed
his hindquarters' "hardened ho-hoes," hoping he'd Hoffenmist-ed Hydroxybutyrics. "Aha!" said Stan. "The meds were spiked with narcolepsy drugs. No wonder they've had so many bowel
-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse." Stan sighed heavily. Without thinking, he popped another pill in his mouth and dry swallowed it. 10 minutes later he was asleep with
the usual pathetic depressing emo dreams like realizing he'd forgotten to wear pants to school and hoping noone would notice and then realizing noone noticed him anyway. Stan's gir
lfriend... Wait, what girlfriend. He looked for her, but realised that she couldn't possibly exist. Indeed, he had reasoned her out of existence. "Total reality collapse". Yes,
His only reality was what was in front of his eyes. What he didn't notice blinked out of existence. Half remembered class mates, streets, North Dakota, all were gone. Post-it notes
populated his mind with facts less relevant to nuclear disarmament and with less correlation among themselves (the advent of saccharine diets in times of Blatterian propagation).
But these random thought-emulsions could birth a Cortext that could be inserted into the Scriptocracy for further referencing. The saccherine diets
of the Provisional Government knew that if the populace never tasted the bitter, they could never understand the sweet. But the Hot, Salty and Sour Party won.

Started: 2011-06-23 02:14:59
Finished: 2011-08-21 19:14:25

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