My Very Own Jaster Story
So there I was, sitting behind my computer at 11:27 bored out of my mind trying to think of a story for some guy who I've never met. I had my very own "fuzzy wuzzy" blanket over my shoulder, and my pajama pants of course waiting for a brain storm that would more than likely never come. Hoping for some inspiration I turned around on my office chair and began flipping through the massive array of cable television channels trying to find something worthy of my time, as usual nothing good was on so I returned my attention back to the computer and paragraph of typing that I had just completed when suddenly the doorbell rang. The first thought that came to mind was Who the hell would come here at this unholy hour???
Well, I stood up letting 'fuzzy' slide to the floor and walked down the hall. All the lights in the house were off except for the kitchen one, but that didn't stop me from tripping over a giant bag of sausages that had fallen out of the open fridgerator. Damn I thought I closed that
, I thought about it for a second and was positive that I had indeed closed it. Well I grabbed the humongous bag of sausages and tossed it into the bottom shelf of the fridge before closing the door.
As I turned, the doorbell rang again, "I'm coming you impacient basturd!" I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and pulled the door open, expecting to see some hobo I blurted "What do you want!?"
The person, who's face was shrouded in darkness stood still. I asked him again what he wanted, but he remained silent until I stepped over the threshold and out into the cold night air, almost face to face with the tall man I spoke through gritted teeth, "What the hell do you want?"
The man smiled, revealing bright teeth and gleaming red eyes that radiated evilness. He reached towards me with a pale and shaky hand, with unnaturally long nails. I stepped back and swung a fist at his stomach. The punch connected and the man doubled over, wheezing and struggling for air. At that point night turned to day as blinding white light surrounded the man like a halo, or like the light of god. I could now see his face, which was contorted with a meniacle sort of grin. He reminded me of a serial killer guy that I'd just been typing a story for.
He reached a hand behind his back, probably for some gat or knife to kill me with. But all he held was a small lunchbox, a plain black one. He popped the top and showed me the boxes contents, two sandwhiches wrapped in plastic.
"Pork chop sandwhiches!" I exclaimed with glee, Jaster grabbed one of the sandwhiches and handed it to me which I took greatfully.
Jaster took the other and we both unwrapped the plastic and ate the sandwhiches like starving men fresh from the Saharra Desert.
When I had swallowed down the last crumbs of the sandwhich, Jaster looked up from his own half finished snack, "Ummmm... so who are you?"
I laughed, "Just some random kid who decided to right a really retarded story."
"Oh," said Jaster with a smirk, "Well I think this is probably the most retarded story I've ever read."
"Wait," I said holding up a hand, "You haven't even read it, I'm working on it right now."
"Actually, Bassimastprime I'm from the future and me and the rest of modern civillization have read your totally inaccurate and rediculous story and, with the technology available in the near future it was requested that I come back to kill you before this story is published to Paintball Review Dot Com.
"It's really that bad?" I asked. He nodded, I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach... "Wow, umm I feel stupid. Guess it's best that I don't right that huh?"
Jaster nodded again, "Well, I'll take your word. Don't worry I'll delete it right away. Jaster gave me a thumbs up which I returned, and with that Jaster turned and skipped into the night. When he was completely lost in darkness I shut the door, went back into the den and continued working on my story. "Hehehe, no super moderator gonna stop me from working on this story. It shall be the greatest story in ze world!! fwahahahaahahha