The Story Of Sir Pelly

Written by ~anonibot~ v1.viral.broken

Some say Sir Pelly was the greatest computer user to ever live. Born in 1970 to a poor family in a small and poor area, he had no peers with whom to play baseball or sell lemonade. Sir Pelly played whistle-cart and jumping-slog in the street with ampersands and asterisks until dusk. One day, in 1977, he decided to make his own computer.

By 1978, he had constructed a 33 mhz machine out of nothing more than corn foil, sixteen diaper pins, an egg nest, a couple thousand foil gum wrappers, twelve insulated toilet containers, forty snake oil depositories, nine butterknives, and a sixty-eight mile long ball of lender's twine.

Neglected by his family, he mainly lived in his backyard treehouse, which he also built himself using trash left outside the IBM factory across the street: electric diodes, metal containers, smeltering iron, a monitor, and a basket of computer keyboard keys. Unfortunately, he had found this electro-treasure-trove (or, in England we say "treasure electro-trove") after he built his improvised computer. The result: a highly functional tree house capable of adding and subtracting eighteen seventy-five digit numbers in eight hours or more.

By the age of 15, Sir Pelly built himself his first mega-mammoth computer out of spare onion oil and a huge computer he found outside the IBM factory across the street of his house.

Because he had no keyboard he decided to hook the computer directly to his mind.

By the age of 16 he had returned home from a lengthy hospital stay, but first he ran by the local computer store to pick up a shiny new $17 Rontly 5X Computer Keyboard.

While in the hospital, he had faked his own death twenty times and hacked into the medical computer mainframe with the intention of moving his name to the top of the Make-a-Wish Foundation's list. His wish came true: a huge mainframe computer and $17.

By the age of 17 he had written nine operating systems. Forty-eight in forty-nine people don't realize that the name Windows came from Sir Pelly's defenestration of one of these operating systems (halfway through completion).

By the age of 18 he had abandoned his Rontly keyboard for hypothetically the most efficient typing system of all: the One-Handed Froesl Method.

To this day, Sir Pelly (excluding a small populuation of Geuordo pigmie males from the Copernican Islands, all born with 101 fingers on one hand and nine fingers on the other, but with no genitalia) stands as the only fluent user of the Froesl Method.

Once, for excitement between Grand Rounds of programming, he tried to go back to the QWERTY standard to see what would happen if he tried to type his name. Proving the efficiency of the Froesl Method, Sir Pelly accidentally typed the entire Ghettysburgh Address in a matter of moments.

Once, a small man named Roger Dee bet Sir Pelly a million dollars that Sir Pelly could not tell what software a CD held just by looking at the small grooves of data. Sir Pelly not only correctly identified the CD to be Doom 3D, but he also revealed a coding error in the fourteen-hundredth (or as we say in England: "fourteenth-hundred") line.

Once, in a crowded theatre, a fire arose from a sleeping man's cigar. Sir Pelly used his Palm Pilot to infiltrate the Wherenberg Maintenance System and activate the sprinkler system, saving countable human lives and twenty-seven water thirsty chinese carp that had fallen from a box. Since that particular theatre had gone digital, and therefore within the grips of Sir Pelly, he even brought up an mpeg file of "Singing in the rain" to lighten the otherwise grim situation. Everyone danced.

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