Ready. Set. Go.
Oh shit, never mind, I already hit start on the stopwatch.
You see, today I am timing how long it takes for me to bust out that thousand when I do it in one sitting. I might be able to start doing a little typing in the morning when I am fresh if I can do it in a manageable time. You see, I was able to do five-hundred in about twenty to forty. All depending on my mental state, or course. The more talkative I was the quicker and more fluid my results. The more exhausted and fatigued the old brain, the longer and discombobulated my words became, hence the new test and procedure, only if today’s experiment is a favorable one.
Sad part is, I just ran out of planned material and now I must wing it, everything is new and unplanned like a chess game diverted until the just after the beginning twelve. Some of the more inept might want an example; G4 (I forgot how to the write the opening move for the first pawn move, should I look it up, or will someone oblige, remember folks I am on a timer this time around, kindness would be appreciated.) G5 (Yeah, I am bum rushing you with end pawn what you gon’na do about it, take over the center, HA.)
Sorry, I might be taking that analogy too far, it is one of those habitual habits I have, I dive deep everythyme. I am not really one of those deep free divers though, those guys are really cool. I am, sadly, not that cool. With the pressure of water on my chest I doubt I can hold my breath for the two minutes that I can do on land, but they say it is all a mental thing, so most likely I can but I don’t think I have the chest strength.
That knocking sound is me hitting the bottom of the barrel. I wouldn't expect anything to lucid right now, it will be very vapid and other words like that.
Should I try is the question or should I give up and die. Now look me in the square in the eye and tell me that should not try, try, try.
I am feeling a little cooped up here, even my balls are starting to sweat and get itchy. When I say ball I mean scrotum and testicle, but mainly scrotum.
(Quick, think of something to make this not sound so bad.)
Umm? Dude, I can’t, that is pretty damn precise. There is no putting a positive spin on that shit. You got to take it or leave it, and I choose leave it. Word count, all I am focused on is word count. Consider this like a focal seizure (E before I when before Z, yeah, that one helps clear up some of that other mess I established and vacated.) but I have fine motor movement with coordinated thought. Yeah, that is what is going on, I am having a focal seizure.
Time out text message.
So, I just lost that time session, damnit, but I was slamming those keys, as if I was, now deceased, pro wrestler Randy “the macho man” Savage. So, I am just going to call it twenty, and move on in this mini quest.
Now, I need to get back in the zone and get this half done in the same amount of time, but it feels like lap two of the obstacle course and I have to reclaim that wall as mine.
Fuck, I woke up the roomie and now his television is blaring to combat my massive air strike on these 26+ key locations mapped out on this board in front of me.
Bam. Bam. BAM.
Take that you mother truckers, leaving your kids at home watching two cartoon cavedude’s from Bedrock pushing Winston’s cigarettes.
Sorry I was distracted, by the primal need… to hunt… find and seduce a mate. I keep telling myself, women are not meat, but it is so hard. I just want to gobble them all up, devouring and savoring every one of them. However, I am not a pig I have never over-indulged. I think. What are the standards? How can I say this, without giving too much away? I have never slept with more woman than my current age, I can remember their names and it takes up the entire allotment of a man with six digits on each hand, but I am not going to take the time to make sure I am correct. I guess I could it wouldn’t take long.
Okay so, there is one, then two, umm three, oh no she was number four and she was three, five and six. Seven or eight, doesn’t matter the order, nine(!) (This girl was a breeder), ten. There you have it, I have a person to remember for each one of my fingers, but I am still young. Who knows where tomorrow will take me.
I am feeling the strain, just a hundred and fifty-eight more words, and ten minutes until then end of one hour.
Can he do it?
Just one good Idea, and I am home free. Ollie-Ollie-oxen-free, no home base is that other tree.
You are a liar, and I do not play with liars, I stick them in dyers, then hang them from tell a phone wires pants a blaze.
Yes, I would like to blaze one.
Then hurry up son.
I run and I run right through more or less the biggest slump, just like my man, here, Forrest Gump.
I can never really remember what happens after the old lady tells him to take the #7(?) bus. Do they get back together, or is he visiting her grave, I just do not remember.
All the iconic moments are there though, “Run Forrest, run.” “Stupid is as stupid does.” And, “Life’s like a box of chocolates.”
There are more, but those are the top three most repeated.