Becklantic

7 Apr

Jack is white.

Ann unedditid centance cann ruen ann artecul. I’m not kidding. People can read one and immediately think, “Well, I know where this is going.” And they do, don’t they? They know exactly where it’s testicles, because they’re psychic. Everyone who reads blogs is psychic. They assume that if someone begins all of their articles with a random picture and some dry humor that it’ll probably end up being a dramatic political satire related to the picture, because they know everything, because readers KNOW EVERYTHING. So, how does one surprise a reader?

Beck

Let’s start with a goat. Goats are always surprising. I rather like goats. Actually, to be honest, I don’t know anything about goats other than they’re basically sheep with horns and less hair. Anyways, we’ve got a goat. Now, what are we going to do with this goat? Well, we’re going to ride it, you see. We’re going to ride it across the Atlantic Ocean, because all goats can walk on salt water, you see. And now we’re going to feed it some fish, because goats eat fish! This is our NEW DISCOVERY! So, we’ll keep feeding it until it’s so big it fills up like a balloon and takes us sailing into the clouds above! This is the exclamation point section! HAHAHAHAHA!

Once we’re in the clouds, we’ll start catching passing seagulls. As they struggle, we’ll strap them to the goat with leather bindings, leaving their wings exposed so that their flapping redirects our flight pattern to—geese muffins, it’s Istanbul! A city on two continents! How did we ever get here?! Well, let’s head down. We free our seagulls and stick needles in the goat, deflating it. After a gentle descent, we arrive on the Asian side of the city, and are immediately and savagely assaulted by Turkish missionaries for being “fell heathens.” After escaping with only our thumbs and earlobes broken and torn, we rush to the nearest coyote salesman. He gives us two fine hounds for free because we have a cute blonde chick with us who pleases him with her extensive knowledge of yo-yo yoga—that’s yoga with a yo-yo. We immediately mount the coyotes, the blonde vanishing into thin air, and ride off into the sunset, only to be swallowed by a passing sand dragon who farts us into the Tenth Level of Hell.

And that’s how you surprise a reader.

AHA!

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