Hitherto Unwritten

Dear Internet,

I have been, of late, taking into consideration the literary form of the short story and was surprised to discover, after some cursory research, that while there are a great many short stories of varying styles and admirable quality, that there is a positive dearth of short stories that have been written by--or about--me. I apologize if this comes as a shock, I was knocked for a bit of a loop myself. I had always assumed that I was a prolific author, though admittedly I am far to busy to read work of my caliber; it is beneath me.

In light of this realization, I heretofore vow to sequester myself in a Buddhist Monastery with a good WiFi connection (or possibly a Xiaolin, Hindu, or Shinto one if any of those are closer to where I work) until I have produced a volume(s) of short stories of such dazzling, profound and onanism-inspiring quality that it will be worthy of my lofty opinion of myself. I vow to forgo feeding, pleasuring and even bathing myself until my work is complete (which incidentally means I'll need to hiring someone to take care of all three of those while I'm working. If you know anybody, I'm currently accepting resumes).

As proof of my dedication to my task, dear Internet--for I know if it is one thing you honor above all else it is accountability--I provide for you the opening lines to what will surely be the highlights of my collection (honestly, I've got it all worked out in my head so the hard part's pretty much done, right?). I am sure they will leave you with a discomforting twang in your nethers as you lust for the completed works, know that I am toiling throughout the night and throughout the later part of the afternoon after I wake up and get some breakfast to slake your desire.

Below, the tantalizing previews of my work:

Stephanophecles was a stupid name for a pig.

"Pass the olive brine," I rasped amorously.

Rufus had applied to the issue every principle of logic, Game Theory, tactical theory, and ever tenet of every political, moral and metaphysical theory he could think of but he still couldn't decide if he was happy with his haircut.

Albert was a classically trained thespian, and a classically conditioned agoraphobic, which made attending his performances tricky.

Not that he would have admitted it, but Julius was excited to have finally met a girl it would be worth killing himself over.

Night in the swamp was as still, black and musky as a skunk smeared across route 40 by a set of quality Michelines.

We were all naked, and we'd all brought guns.

I guess it started when Sylvia left me for sleeping with one of her alternate personalities.

There are few things more confounding in a man's life than when he finds out he is to be a bride in a lesbian wedding.

When they asked Alice to be the Queen for a week or two, she figured they were trying to steal her identity, and she was quite brusque over the phone.

Richard had always told his mother that his place in the world was destined to be the wide-open planes of the American Midwest, which she always thought was a strange ambition for a young manatee to have, but she loved her son and so said nothing.

Teddy's grandmother assured him that music was the best way to make the world a more beautiful place, but for all the work these lessons were taking, Teddy didn't care if the learning piano would make the whole world grow a giant pair of tits, he was fucking done.

Once, in a kinder time, your mom was super, super slutty.

Stillness filled the room, as if Death himself were crouched behind the credenza with a party hat and kazoo, waiting for the lights to flicker on before leaping for my throat shouting, "Surprise!"

Ruffles had been able to talk from a very early age, but quickly found that the opinions of a dog are often looked upon with contempt, so mostly he just kept to himself.

Alas, I must now take my leave, as it has occurred to me that any sequester-worthy monasteries will be fairly removed from some of the greater aspects of modern civilization, and so I should probably go stock up on bourbon before I begin (By the way, this is the body of the letter again, not another sample sentnece. If you couldn't tell). I shall continue to write with my typical spirit and grace, and assume that you too shall continue to read with your typical admiration and praise.


Love,
Steve