By @iamTalkyTina and Friends
Erich approached the stairs. He was mad. He was a mad man. “I’m going to get that doll,” he was thinking in his mad head. “I’m going to get it and then that will be the end of it.”
Plus, he was thinking, “it will serve that girl right, for being not his kid,” but he couldn’t have any.
Just then, he didn’t look where he was going. And he made a little trip on the stairs.
“Oops,” he was thinking, “I guess that was Karma,” was his last thought except for when he saw the doll’s eyes saying, “Ha, Ha, you got yours, you mean man!” A good writer possesses not only his own spirit but also the spirit of his friends. I do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners. WELL, ERICH WAS A LAUGHING STOCK!! An hour behind the fleeting breath, he was DEAD! Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot. Yet but that Erich was an awful man! Procrastination is the thief of time, collar him. Well, it was about time that Erich got his. He was a bad man! I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat. Cats are overvalued. They are all stuck up, but they do good sneaky work.
(NOTE: Some of these words were added by some other so-called writers but their text does not always suit the mood or the flow of the narrative. I have done my best to try to return story to a logical path, but at times, it was difficult to work with what I was given. I trust that my regular readers will understand that such a collaborative work does not always rise to the highest standard as you are used to expecting from me.)