User:WarWalrus/Narrator
He saw the link.
"This should be good' he thought in anticipation."There are a lot of funny things you can write about narration". He clicked on the link and as the page slowly loaded on his 90's internet connection, he smiled.
"Oh I see what you did there" he exclaimed. He chucked to himself. He should of seen that coming. Thinking the rest of the article was the same, he clicked onto the nearest link and continued to read the next article.
The Beginning[edit | edit source]
Several hours later, he could finally turn his gaze away from the glimmering glare of the computer screen and to his warm inviting bed. He checked the clock. Two O'clock! He only had five hours to sleep! Where had all the time gone? Slowly, like a turtle on tranquilliser, he clambered into bed. The warm inviting darkness of sleep enveloped him almost immediately. He didn't even have time to remember that his alarm was still turned off
The Dream[edit | edit source]
The dream was unlike anything he could remember having before. He was having dinner with Martin luther King and Simon Cowell at a very fancy restaurant. They were discussing a new talent show they wanted to produce about political musicals. It would be called Martin Luther Sing. Both were so pleased at having created the very clever title that they had forgot to order their desert and the waiter was still waiting impatiently. Every minute or so the aggravated man banged the table with a judge's hammer to try and get the attention of the two characters who seemed oblivious to his efforts. He wondered if he should say something to the waiter, but on closer inspection he could see that the man was not your average food server. Underneath his posh uniform stood Colonel Gadaffi as alive and well as any other man. Gadaffi glared at him, as if it was his fault Libya had risen up against him.
"You!" Gadaffi whispered, so quietly that only he could here the fallen dictator. He looked around desperatly but nobody seemed to have noticed that a war criminal had been serving them caviar all day.
"You" the dirty Libyan whispered again "Would you like the sundae special or the toffee sponge cake?"
Rise[edit | edit source]
Suddenly it was morning. He rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and turned over to look at his special edition Thomas The Tank Engine alarm clock. The faces on the trains looked like they were goading them while the digital lights spelt out the time.
"10 O'clock!" He shrieked. He was later King Richard the Third's burial. He leapt from his bed as if he had sat upon a hedgehog, quickly changed into his suit and ran out of his house. In his hurry he did not think to even close the front door behind him...
Run motherfucker, Run![edit | edit source]
He sped through the local streets and made it to the tube station without a miss-hap in sight. He leapt into the tube just as the doors were closing. However, as the doors closed, his protruding buttocks did not make it in time, leading to a large percentage of his body being on the wrong side of a moving train. He screamed like a banshee on ladies night while the other passengers desperately tried to pull his overlarge arse into the carriage. With one great heave, he slipped free. They left him weeping in the middle of the overcrowded stinking train.
When the train finally reached Oxford Circus, he stepped of the tube in a tornado of shame and embarrassment. He continued to walk to the office while trying to navigate through an onslaught of tears. If he had been able to see, he would have saw how he had barged an old woman in front of a moving bus.