An Entirely Random Story

"What do you do with a drunken sailor?" asked C.

"Why?" said Y.

"It seems like it would be very useful knowledge," C responded.

C suddenly realized that everything he had previously known as truth was completely wrong. It was a most disturbing epiphany. Beluga. On the other hand, whenever C had spontaneous truth crises, he would write a sensationalist novel. Thus did he. It was called When Truth Slaps You in the Face: A Story from the Life of C. Historians have discovered evidence that it sold more than three copies, a very spectacular figure for a C novel.

Critics responded by remarking that C, being merely the graphical representation of a phonemic concept, had no face for truth to slap. Also, they found it very disturbing that the letter C, having written a novel with the letter C in it several times, was using his own substance in the creation of a work of art. Suddenly the Author realized he was rambling and introduced a plot.

When Y and C realized that the earth was about to explode from massive tectonic pressures induced by R's diabolical Tectonic-Pressure Hyperstress Generator, they immediately devised and implemented a plan to save the earth. Gazebo.

"I think we should get to the heart of the problem and destroy R himself," I remarked.

"U should find a way to disable the generator," said B.

"This is all very useful speculation, but the earth is about to explode. We should come to some solid conclusion," said C.

"You find something then," said A.

"What does this have to do with me?" said U.

"Not U. I meant you."

"I didn't say anything," said U.

"You're right I didn't!" cried I.

"Silence!" said Y.

"Why?" said O.

"Because I said so."

"I didn't say anyting!" said C.

"So U said," said A.

"Why?" I asked.

"Yes?" Y responded.

The author would like to apologize for this time-wasting silliness. After much debate, Y, I, O, U, A, and C reached a conclusion and implemented a massively secretive and complicated plan to defeat R once and for all. It contained many detailed codes and ciphers, and, best of all, much Norwegian Jarlsberg. In fact, the plan was so massively secretive and complicated that the author has been unable to think of anything epic enough to fill this story's quota. So we shall gloss over this extremely minor oversight in plot development and skip directly to the showdown.

"You shall never defeat me!" R cried, cackling diabolically and throwing the switch on the Tectonic-Pressure Hyperstress Generator.

"Leave me out of this!" U said.

"That's quite enough of alphabet puns!" said the Author.

"You are the one writing this!" said O.

"I said leave me out of this!" U screamed.

"I didn't say anything!" I said.

"Stop it!" cried C.

As the Generator worked up to its full power, Y, I, O, U, A, and C gasped in horror. The ground began to shake. Around the world, men cried like little children. Little children cried like little children. Women clutched their babies, and all cried like little children. Scientists abandoned their nuclear tests and ran for dear life. Aerospace engineers left their schematics. Philosophers had tea and Norwegian Jarlsberg. All of humanity stopped as the tremors increased in violence, waiting for the end of the world. Humanity waited, that is. The previous sentence was badly worded in such a way that it may have appeared that the tremors were waiting for the end of the world. The sentence before the one before the previous one, that is.

"Look well," R yelled evilly, "upon the last moments of earth!"

"Never!" cried the omnipotent force. He ended this blasted bit of fiction promptly, but not until the author had apologized for this time-wasting silliness.