It was the kind of day that you just KNEW you'd burn yourself if you tried
to eat the sun.
A man climbed out of bed.
His name was Sternley.
A strange name, one would think.
But it had quite a history.
It went something like this:
When Sternley's mother was pregnant with him, one day she decided to go for a walk. The summer had been so chilly until then, and nobody could blame her. She stepped out of the door, and then thought "Hmmm... maybe I'll just cut meat". Again, with the weather in mind, nobody could really blame her (unless you are meat, in which case you have every right to blame her, as she probably cut up someone you knew). While cutting, she managed somehow to chop off her index and middle finger. Fate plays funny tricks sometimes.
Thus, the boy was dubbed Sternley, a fine name, I would think.
Sternley had lived a lot. He was 39 years old. 39 is old for most things. For a car, it would be very old. For a shoe, or a piece of cloth, it would be extremely old. But for a person, it was only somewhat old.
It never ceazes to amaze me, that the foundation of society would crumble if enough people compared themselves to a piece of cloth or a car or a shoe. I hope that never happens.
Sternley, as mentioned, climbed out of bed, and looked around. He switched on the television. He flipped through numerous talk shows, a couple of gourmet shows, and a few cartoons, and even an adult movie entitled "Mimi does Malta", which I hear is quite good, if you turn the sound all the way down, and just assume that people are quoting Shakespeare, instead of asking each other how large their penis's were. Come to think of it, Shakespeare would have been a far more interesting writer if he had dabbled in the art of having his characters ask each other how big their (respective) penis's were.
The clock on the wall read 9:27. This impressed Sternley to no end. He went into the other room, and casually counted to 600. Then he came back, and looked at the clock, and, as hoped for, it read 9:37. "Utterly amazing, time is" thought Sternley. He didn't think it for too long, as he was interrputed by the sound of the doorbell. He put on his gown (which did not say 9:27, or 9:37, or anything of the sort) and went downstairs. It was the mailman.
"Morning, Sternley" said the cheerful, but incredily annoying mailman. "It's not morning in China" was Sternley's reply. "Right. Mail. Eat it, I don't care. I just deliver it" replied the cross mailman. "I would sooner walk on hot coals" shouted Sternley, and then he smashed the door shut.
Sternley looked through the mail. Most of it was junk, but there was one envelope, that simply said "Open this. Don't think about it too long".
Sternley opened the letter with great curiousity. It seems that he was invited to attend a seminar on "The 500 Easiest Way's to Eat Through Your Rectum".
Sternley, always looking for knowledge, planned to attend. END PART ONE