You gotta be flippin kidding Helen. Too many flippin rules eh! Waddya think I'm gonna sit down and count every flippin word I write and then what? Waht if it comes to 112 words? What do I do then? And besides, I might not of counted right so I mgight have to count it again. Adn again. I got a life here you know and it dont make sense to sit around coutning words all day! Geez.

You thinki I'nm going to go and count those word=s now? Dont'; flippin hold your breath eh?

Okay, I'm gonna write a story, but I aint' rpomising nothin.

I'm staring now.

REady?

Okay.


It was a dark and stormy night at the brewery. (that's 10 w9rds) Lewis was waiting to find out what was the meaning of his life. (that's 13...so that makes 23 words. The stuff in the brackets dont count eh?)

He didn't have a flippin clue why he was in the world but he figgered it had somthin to do with constumption, probably.

(Shit. How many now? Wait.) (Okay it's 46 now. Geez! Almost halfway there already! HOw can anyone do this?)

Lewis was ready though, cause he was cool. He was really cool. (58)

The next day Lewis lined up with the rest of the squad...all 24 of 'em. (74) He checked his helmet. On good and tight. (82)

But not tight enough, as it turned out. (90)

Cause when the trucker grabbed Lewis and popped his helmet it was all over in seconds. That guy could chug! (110)

(Shit!!! See...I told ya. Now I gotta go back and take out words.)

Lewis may only have been a bottle of beer, but he died bravely.

(I couldn't do it. I got 123 words. That's 23 too many. Wait...)

(I can't do it. This sucks. I am gonna have another drink instead. I hate yer flippin' contest!!!)

- BDiBR