The inner madness of a writer who never finishes anything

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The inner madness of a writer who never finishes anything

Post by Ghost on Sun Mar 04, 2018 10:41 pm

So I wrote a thing, here it goes. I didn't proofread because I'm a lazy shit.


Chapter 1: Have your cake and don’t eat it

Staring up from the factory floor, he dreamed of something more. Each and everyday as he left the cheesecake factory, he would see them with their fancy cars, their fancy suits, their fancy cigars and knew that was the life he would strive for.

Nobody would ever underestimate Giggles ever again.

“Giggles.” A stern faced Hispanic approached him, clad in a designer dark suit, the jacket fastened but the inner shirt was a vivid sky blue, unbuttoned and exposing his well-defined neck line. Next to him were a couple of nondescript goons. “We got a job that needs someone of your…talents.”

He looked confused at this man, whom he was only vaguely familiar with. They called him Tony and he wasn’t exactly someone to be messed with.

“About damn time someone recognized me.” Giggles smiled wryly as he spoke, but his words did not seem to impress Tony who only glowered him. Giggles didn’t like Tony.

With a reputation of being ruthless, the man responsible for the enforcement of the strict ban on Anime, including any and all discussion on ‘waifus’ greatly irked the weeb cheesecake maker. Once he had been nearly caught with illicit manga on his person; Tony had been keeping a close eye on him since.

Tony did not say any more words to Giggles for the time being, not wanting to hear any more of his gloating or bizarre manner of speaking some knew as ‘shitposting’. Instead, he began to lead the cheesecake maker up several flights of stairs that seemed to be poorly maintained.

At the top, they reached a dimly lit, grey room that served as a break room. Inside was one flickering vending machine that was almost always empty, a coffee machine that overflowed, a sofa with an actual settlement of civilized mice with their own government and exposed brickwork behind cheap floral wallpaper from the 1970s.

They however did not stop here, instead they approached an ominous metal door with a keypad displaying a sign that exclaimed, “No Trespassing!” Giggles had always assumed it was a storage room for the break room, but considering how nothing was ever stocked or maintained, that seemed rather unlikely.

Tony entered a combination on the keypad and the door entered to reveal another smaller room with the same wallpaper from the break room, but newer laminate wood flooring and a set of twin elevators that appeared to be from the same era as the wallpaper.

“Inside.” Tony commanded as the elevator doors open, conveniently already on this floor from when the anime-hater and his goons had arrived.

For what seemed like an eternity, Giggles, Tony and the still nondescript, unimportant goons stood in silence. No one made small-talk, talked about their favourite esports team as was the custom on the factory floor, though Tony was infamous for being a hardcore Starcraft 2 player.

Finally, they arrived at the top floor. Much different from the lower levels, the walls were adorned with masks, trophies and relics that appeared to be stolen from museums, Aztec ruins, Japanese temples and other such similar places. Oddly enough the walls themselves still had that cheap floral wallpaper from the lower floors, but the floors had a strange, sticky pink carpet.

Tony led Giggles into an office that was bigger than his whole apartment. In the middle sat a chubby Hispanic man in a pinstripe grey suit, a strange cartoon pencil mustache, a receding hairline, a set of thick gold lined aviators sat at a kotatsu inexplicably with a man who appeared to be sat with Hayao Miyazaki.

“Ohayou Gozaimasu.” Miyazaki muttered politely, bowing his head whilst gesturing towards his Chubby right-hand man. “My name is Miyazaki, this man here is my subordinate.”

“So, that’s why they banned anime…” Giggles noted as he offered his hand to Miyazaki, “But, sir, why did you ask me to come here.”

Miyazaki, an elderly Japanese man with a rather tired looking expression, sighed. “It’s…you see, we have a problem, Giggles. As you know, our company is the biggest Cheesecake organisation in Chicago. We produce it here and deal with some distributors who smuggle the cakes into Colombia where there is a big market, yet the cakes are considered highly illegal.” He explained.

“Yes, yes.” Groaned Giggles impatiently, “I know all of this, spare me the exposition.” He said, his flippant expression quite clear.

“Miyazaki-san!” The chubby man cried out, jumping to his feet and drawing his uzi-katana gunblade from its sheathe. “This man is dishonouring you! Why do you let this filthy anime-loving son of a bitch into your sacred office anyway!?”

Giggles flinched nervously, but Miyazaki appeared unmoved. Instead he waved a hand at his subordinate, who quickly sheathed his weapon and returned to his seating position, red in the face. “He will learn respect in time. In the meantime, he is the best cheesecake maker and I want to give him a chance to prove himself.”

As the chubby man was calmed, the Japanese man continued. “Our rival company from Edo is attempting to curry favour with our associates in Colombia and word has it that the Daimyo of Bogota is involved. Imagine a rival that has Samurai on their side!” He spat the Daimyo’s name, appearing quite disgusted with him. “As our best cheesecake maker, we need you to make the greatest cheesecake this side of The United States of Nippon and show this ‘Daimyo’ why our product is better.”

Leaning forward, Giggles began to speak. “Miyazaki-san…I take it I’ll get a reward for this.”

The Japanese man smiled, “But of course. You’ll be paid 0.876 bitcoins, half now and the other half when the job is done. After that, we’ll see about giving you a position more fitting of someone of your talents.”

Giggles scoffed at that amount, “Make it 1.75 and we got a deal.”
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Re: The inner madness of a writer who never finishes anything

Post by Giggles on Sun Mar 04, 2018 10:47 pm

I probably would've peed myself at least once. Otherwise, accurate.
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Re: The inner madness of a writer who never finishes anything

Post by Ghost on Mon Mar 05, 2018 1:47 am

Not everyone can speak English, so I translated the first chapter into another language.

Lrybdan 1: Ryja ouin lyga yht tuh’d ayd ed

Cdynehk ib vnus dra vylduno vmuun, ra tnaysat uv cusadrehk suna. Aylr yht ajanotyo yc ra mavd dra lraacalyga vylduno, ra fuimt caa dras fedr draen vyhlo lync, draen vyhlo ciedc, draen vyhlo lekync yht ghaf dryd fyc dra meva ra fuimt cdneja vun.

Huputo fuimt ajan ihtanacdesyda Kekkmac ajan ykyeh.

“Kekkmac.” Y cdanh vylat Recbyhel ybbnuylrat res, lmyt eh y tacekhan tyng cied, dra zylgad vycdahat pid dra ehhan crend fyc y jejet cgo pmia, ihpidduhat yht aqbucehk rec famm-tavehat halg meha. Haqd du res fana y luibma uv huhtaclnebd kuuhc. “Fa kud y zup dryd haatc cusauha uv ouin…dymahdc.”

Ra muugat luhvicat yd drec syh, frus ra fyc uhmo jykiamo vysemeyn fedr. Drao lymmat res Duho yht ra fych’d aqyldmo cusauha du pa saccat fedr.

“Ypuid tysh desa cusauha nalukhewat sa.” Kekkmac csemat fnomo yc ra cbuga, pid rec funtc tet hud caas du esbnacc Duho fru uhmo kmufanat res. Kekkmac teth’d mega Duho.

Fedr y nabidydeuh uv paehk nidrmacc, dra syh nacbuhcepma vun dra ahvunlasahd uv dra cdneld pyh uh Yhesa, ehlmitehk yho yht ymm teclicceuh uh ‘fyevic’ knaydmo engat dra faap lraacalyga sygan. Uhla ra ryt paah haynmo lyikrd fedr emmeled syhky uh rec bancuh; Duho ryt paah gaabehk y lmuca aoa uh res cehla.

Duho tet hud cyo yho suna funtc du Kekkmac vun dra desa paehk, hud fyhdehk du rayn yho suna uv rec kmuydehk un pewynna syhhan uv cbaygehk cusa ghaf yc ‘credbucdehk’. Ehcdayt, ra pakyh du mayt dra lraacalyga sygan ib cajanym vmekrdc uv cdyenc dryd caasat du pa buunmo syehdyehat.

Yd dra dub, drao naylrat y tesmo med, knao nuus dryd canjat yc y pnayg nuus. Ehceta fyc uha vmelganehk jahtehk sylreha dryd fyc ymsucd ymfyoc asbdo, y luvvaa sylreha dryd ujanvmufat, y cuvy fedr yh yldiym caddmasahd uv lejemewat sela fedr draen ufh kujanhsahd yht aqbucat pnelgfung pareht lrayb vmunym fymmbyban vnus dra 1970c.

Drao rufajan tet hud cdub rana, ehcdayt drao ybbnuylrat yh usehuic sadym tuun fedr y gaobyt tecbmyoehk y cekh dryd aqlmyesat, “Hu Dnacbyccehk!” Kekkmac ryt ymfyoc yccisat ed fyc y cdunyka nuus vun dra pnayg nuus, pid luhcetanehk ruf hudrehk fyc ajan cdulgat un syehdyehat, dryd caasat nydran ihmegamo.

Duho ahdanat y luspehydeuh uh dra gaobyt yht dra tuun ahdanat du najaym yhudran csymman nuus fedr dra cysa fymmbyban vnus dra pnayg nuus, pid hafan mysehyda fuut vmuunehk yht y cad uv dfeh amajydunc dryd ybbaynat du pa vnus dra cysa any yc dra fymmbyban.

“Ehceta.” Duho lussyhtat yc dra amajydun tuunc ubah, luhjaheahdmo ymnayto uh drec vmuun vnus frah dra yhesa-rydan yht rec kuuhc ryt ynnejat.

Vun fryd caasat mega yh adanhedo, Kekkmac, Duho yht dra cdemm huhtaclnebd, ihesbundyhd kuuhc cduut eh cemahla. Hu uha syta csymm-dymg, dymgat ypuid draen vyjuineda acbundc days yc fyc dra licdus uh dra vylduno vmuun, druikr Duho fyc ehvysuic vun paehk y ryntluna Cdynlnyvd 2 bmyoan.

Vehymmo, drao ynnejat yd dra dub vmuun. Silr tevvanahd vnus dra mufan majamc, dra fymmc fana ytunhat fedr sycgc, dnubreac yht namelc dryd ybbaynat du pa cdumah vnus sicaisc, Ywdal niehc, Zybyhaca dasbmac yht udran cilr cesemyn bmylac. Uttmo ahuikr dra fymmc drascamjac cdemm ryt dryd lrayb vmunym fymmbyban vnus dra mufan vmuunc, pid dra vmuunc ryt y cdnyhka, cdelgo behg lynbad.

Duho mat Kekkmac ehdu yh uvvela dryd fyc pekkan dryh rec fruma ybyndsahd. Eh dra settma cyd y lrippo Recbyhel syh eh y behcdneba knao cied, y cdnyhka lynduuh bahlem sicdylra, y nalatehk ryenmeha, y cad uv drelg kumt mehat yjeydunc cyd yd y gudydci ehaqbmelypmo fedr y syh fru ybbaynat du pa cyd fedr Ryoyu Seoywyge.

“Uryoui Kuwyesyci.” Seoywyge siddanat bumedamo, pufehk rec rayt fremcd kacdinehk dufyntc rec Lrippo nekrd-ryht syh. “So hysa ec Seoywyge, drec syh rana ec so cipuntehyda.”

“Cu, dryd’c fro drao pyhhat yhesa…” Kekkmac hudat yc ra uvvanat rec ryht du Seoywyge, “Pid, cen, fro tet oui ycg sa du lusa rana.”

Seoywyge, yh amtanmo Zybyhaca syh fedr y nydran denat muugehk aqbnacceuh, cekrat. “Ed’c…oui caa, fa ryja y bnupmas, Kekkmac. Yc oui ghuf, uin lusbyho ec dra pekkacd Lraacalyga unkyhecydeuh eh Lrelyku. Fa bnutila ed rana yht taym fedr cusa tecdnepidunc fru csikkma dra lygac ehdu Lumuspey frana drana ec y pek syngad, oad dra lygac yna luhcetanat rekrmo emmakym.” Ra aqbmyehat.

“Oac, oac.” Knuyhat Kekkmac esbydeahdmo, “E ghuf ymm uv drec, cbyna sa dra aqbucedeuh.” Ra cyet, rec vmebbyhd aqbnacceuh xieda lmayn.

“Seoywyge-cyh!” Dra lrippo syh lneat uid, zisbehk du rec vaad yht tnyfehk rec iwe-gydyhy kihpmyta vnus edc craydra. “Drec syh ec tecruhuinehk oui! Fro tu oui mad drec vemdro yhesa-mujehk cuh uv y pedlr ehdu ouin cylnat uvvela yhofyo!?”

Kekkmac vmehlrat hanjuicmo, pid Seoywyge ybbaynat ihsujat. Ehcdayt ra fyjat y ryht yd rec cipuntehyda, fru xielgmo craydrat rec faybuh yht nadinhat du rec caydehk bucedeuh, nat eh dra vyla. “Ra femm maynh nacbald eh desa. Eh dra sayhdesa, ra ec dra pacd lraacalyga sygan yht E fyhd du keja res y lryhla du bnuja rescamv.”

Yc dra lrippo syh fyc lymsat, dra Zybyhaca syh luhdehiat. “Uin nejym lusbyho vnus Atu ec yddasbdehk du linno vyjuin fedr uin ycculeydac eh Lumuspey yht funt ryc ed dryd dra Tyesou uv Pukudy ec ehjumjat. Esykeha y nejym dryd ryc Cysinye uh draen ceta!” Ra cbyd dra Tyesou’c hysa, ybbaynehk xieda teckicdat fedr res. “Yc uin pacd lraacalyga sygan, fa haat oui du syga dra knaydacd lraacalyga drec ceta uv Dra Ihedat Cdydac uv Hebbuh yht cruf drec ‘Tyesou’ fro uin bnutild ec paddan.”

Mayhehk vunfynt, Kekkmac pakyh du cbayg. “Seoywyge-cyh…E dyga ed E’mm kad y nafynt vun drec.”

Dra Zybyhaca syh csemat, “Pid uv luinca. Oui’mm pa byet 0.876 pedluehc, rymv huf yht dra udran rymv frah dra zup ec tuha. Yvdan dryd, fa’mm caa ypuid kejehk oui y bucedeuh suna veddehk uv cusauha uv ouin dymahdc.”

Kekkmac cluvvat yd dryd ysuihd, “Syga ed 1.75 yht fa kud y taym.”
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