Story(a) + Storee(b)= Part 1 of ?

*Note from Editor.*

*There was a lot of crazy people around everyone when this story was written. Many of them tried to help this story blossom. Most just thought it was awesome and should be left alone. Leaving a story: alone, unread, unnoticed, unloved or hated is the worst thing you can do to a reader or writer. The story also suffers, because the longer a story survives without being complete the more likely it is to allow acids and bases to infiltrate the writing, eventually destroying what the story tried to stand for.*

Thank You,

*Judame Brazenfeld*

Let’s start on an even playing field.

I am not better than you, nor are you better than I. You are reading, while I am sitting back hoping you will continue to do so. What you are reading is my barely decipherable vocabulary, placed in positions that will continue to aid and at times hinder your ability to do so. Keep in mind that I was born and I will die, just like you my nameless friend. I hope I can call you my friend.

Anyway, my name, at this point is unimportant, some of you are aware that I ask real and imaginary questions to real and imaginary people. Their responses, at times come out as undigested verbal and nonverbal aspirations of vomit that can be confused with conversation. At times this job can get really confusing. For example, you’re writing a great essay on a topic that could be your claim to fame when it is released. You wake up in the morning one day and your dog ate your homework. Who the hell would believe that? Especially, when your dog has a penchant for eating fully operational laptops: unbiasedly in price, make or model, color, creed or political affiliation. Trust me, ‘Tree Rollins’ (my dog) loves eating.

Anyway, after my last article, “Writing Respective Reflections Betwixt The Disrespectful Times,” was not published in the highly respected Journal of Highly Respected Essays on Importantly Important Social Literature, I did not cry. But, instead wrote the most thrilling story that my cat, ‘Sophisticated’, “Fisty Cat” for short, had ever gazed eyes upon.

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