Guy pretends to be someone else so people like him

Benedict Soupflay a man fuck damn it shit fuck this story who cares I was going to write something about a guy who just pretends to be someone else so people like him but that’s the entire premise and I couldn’t think of any direction for it or any plot or story so I’m canceling this story before it’s written.

Story over boys! Tear it down!

15 men then fill with the room with sledgehammers and begin smashing the story to pieces.

“Collect the bits and try to salvage what we can for future stories!” I say, now using quotes for myself, as opposed to earlier in the article.

“This article doesn’t make sense grammatically or structurally” one of the stupid fucking idiots around me says even though I specifically asked them never to speak while I’m working.

“I hear you, and I respect your position, however you’re completely out of your own on this and you need to just leave it to me and go back to shut-the-fuck-up-ville where you belong, over in that corner.” I point to a corner of the circular room that we’re in 

A second group of demolition men come in and start vacuuming up the story pieces that are all strewn about the writing grounds where I had originally crafted the story.

“Yea, that’s good, that’ll do.” I say, but they can’t hear me over the sound of the vacuums.

I get vacuumed up.

“I’m in the vacuum.” I say, without any other descriptive words to add.

“I want to get out of the vacuum.” I manifest.

I’m now out of the vacuum and speaking in present tense as opposed to past tense.

I’m able to change the dynamics of time within my writing and travel forwards or backwards.

I go back to the beginning of the article

Guy pretends to be someone else so people like him

I decide this time I’m going to write the article, formally and forthright, and not dilly dally around like I did before and make it correctly this time.

I don’t. I take a sledgehammer to the story myself this time. No help from the demo crew.

“I’m going to destroy this story and every story like it for the rest of history.” I vow to the Gods.

“Gods, plural?” You’re asking.

Yes. Multiple Gods.

Even though there is only one God.

They try to trick us into believing there’s more than one God, but there is only one. And the true God’s name is Mumunuptra, an Egyptian-sounding God that I made up right now.

That’s the only real God.

My laptop then got hit by lightning indoors somehow.

“No, that’s not the true God, I am the true God.” A voice said.

Actually no, that didn’t happen. None of this happened.

The guy did pretend to be someone else so people liked him though, that part is true. Everything else, not true.

You probably know the guy.

It’s the person you trust the most in life and love a lot. That guy. He’s lying. That’s not him.

I’m him.

You ever hear people say that phrase? “I’m him.”

Rappers say it a lot.

Like, “him” represents like the coolest person.

It’s kind of like that old phrase, “the man.”

They’d say, “you’re the man!” And it would be positive.

But also nobody likes “The man.”

You ever notice that?

There’s a word for those type of situations I can’t think of at this second.

Paradox, maybe? I think that’s a synonym of the word I’m trying to think of. Contradiction, I think that’s the word I wanted. Now that I see it though, I don’t like it as much as I did when I couldn’t remember what it was.

That’s always the case right, we like something til we have it. Then we lose interest. And we want the next word. Paradox.

I’ve got a pair-of-doxes for you if you know what I mean, *wink*

But anyways, I couldn’t even pretend to try for this article. Sometimes putting together fully formed ideas is hard and it’s easier to do this. Some people think it’s harder to do this. Maybe I have a special gift and it’s just easier for me to let whatever string of words that naturally occurs in my brain to flow out onto this pixelated screen.

I don’t know. I’m going to lay down now. I need to get ready to get on the “tube.”

That’s what they call the metro over here.

I’m currently out of the office on assignment.

I’m in a place where metro trains are called “tubes.”

It’s different. I don’t care or pay any mind to it. It’s not good or bad, it’s just different. Some people have opinions on things that are different, I tend to not. Opinions take work and are exhausting. I’d rather just look at something, take it in, then move on. No use putting energy into something that’s not going to reciprocate. Save your energy for things that need it. Like walking a dog, or taking out the trash, or writing a love letter to your dearest.

Hmmmm….

Now I’m thinking about things but I don’t want to write about them. That’s a change for once! And again for the concerned readers I feel the need again to pontificate, that I like writing and everything is great and consider these all works of hard to be hung in upscale, high-concept galleries one day. Stop reading so much into my writing. It’s just words you fuckin’ losers. Don’t be offended, I didn’t mean it. It’s just words. Feel free to send words back. I’ll see them.