A free journal skin! How exciting!

In this, a free journal skin, I wish to tell a story.
So here you go, a story just for you</u>:

There was once a lime whose name was Thomas MacNiftle. Amoung his hobbies were deep-sea clam stroking, tree-leaping, daisy huffing, reading, extreme reading, and making coffee. Thomas, whose friends called him Bernard the Extreme and Exhalted Leader of All Things Green and Fleshy (the seventh) for short, was an expert coffee maker. In fact, of all his hobbies, this was his most favourite-ist of all. He would spend hours in his workshop, labouring over the creation of the most perfect cup of coffee the world had ever seen.He had never in fact achieved this goal, but it was his life ambition.

One day, whilst he was sipping a particularly fruity caterpillar smoothie (with extra coffee and walnuts) he was suddenly and violently kidnapped by an immaculately stealthy bluebird (so violently, in fact, that his caterpillar smoothie was abandoned - unfinished and decidedly less fruity). He was driven via kidnapping voodoo vans (shaped like suspicious boats, for multi-purpose kidnapping) and even at one stage by ferry, accross the River of Eternal Morbidity (c), to the even more suspicious voodoo hut-like hideout of the bluebird (populated by yet more voodoo paraphernalia and one Eternally Morbid (c) turtle, with "DarRen" stencilled onto his shell).

Thomas was dropped into a wicker-toothpick chair designed for two-tenth Parrots of Comfortability according to the international Comfortability scale of one and three-quarter Parrots by night. The bluebird, after a snack of raisins and Iffy Twigs (c), addressed Thomas. "Thomas," it said "I have need of your expert coffee-making skills!"

"Please, call me Bernard the Extreme and Exhalted Leader of All Things Green and Fleshy (the seventh)." said Thomas.

There ensued a purple discussion wherein the bluebird (Eric) explained his urgent need for the coffee stylings of Bernard the Extreme and Exhalted Leader of All Things Green and Fleshy (the seventh). This discussion involved many explanations and useful insights as to the deeply-important reasons for his participation in the matter. DarRen's Eternal Morbidity (c) was at steak (yum! [this 'yum!' inserted to signify the purposeful use of the homophone 'steak' as opposed to 'stake', thank you for your time]).

And so, Thomas retreated to his underwater laboratory (and playpen) as insane geniuses must do in times of great knead (a hah, hah hah). He began his deeply secret - puffingly terrible and awe-full creative process. Needless to say, this process cannot be described, danced or otherwise indicated here. With much grunting, sweating, pulling, twisting, fevered wobbling, gyration and general inappropriateness of the fifty-seventh degree (as befits an evil mastermind of Thomas' nature) he created an immense cup of super-hot, eye-watering, breathtakingly-filthy milo. Realising his most dreadful mistake - the misspelling of a word to produce the ultimately filthy milo - he threw the cup to the underwateraboveground with an incredibly femenine cry.

His unfortunate use of such a femenine cry in the discarding of the filthy hot drink was his worst mistake. Descending rapidly and unforgivingly - like a plague of pubescent slime-tigers - came the femeninely-outcrying milo lime-suckers of the deep under-ocean. Thomas was devoured in mere weeks, his cries of torment non-existent as he was a lime and could not speak.

The end.

I do hope you enjoyed your story.
Nighty night.











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