/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.8815655]

ITT, rewrite this in the style of your favorite author.

>Waking up to a loud crash rarely means something good is happening. It’s never “CRASH! Mom made pancakes!” or “CRASH! We decided to adopt a Golden Retriever!”

[Anonymous No.8815920]

>>8815655
>this picture

[Anonymous No.8815931]

You found a picture with pancakes and a golden retriever in itt and all you could think to do with it was post it with the full quote? Really, OP? A little subtlety goes a long way.

[Anonymous No.8815999]

>>8815655
BOOM BOOM CRASH

BOOM BOOM CRASH

I woke up this morning

Mamam made pancakes. She also adopted a dog, a Golden Retriever.

[Anonymous No.8816121]

>tfw you want to join but you never read your favorite writer in english

[Anonymous No.8816373]

>The kid awoke to a loud crash. For a feverish moment he saw his mother hunched over the stove flipping griddle cakes but then remembered he had torn the life from her when he passed braying into this world and neither could the age-buckled hound that his father kept around the ranch the cause of his nocturnal tremor for the kid had long since kicked him whining into dust

[Anonymous No.8816383]

maman made pancakes and adopted a golden retriever today. or yesterday maybe, i don't know

[Anonymous No.8816987]

>>8816383

[Anonymous No.8817020]

>>8815999
Ooh lala, ces triplés! le meme magie est vrai.

[Anonymous No.8817058]

>>8815655
>It was a loud crashing that had awoken him with a start; for a loud crash does not make for a pleasant morning. How rarely such a thunderous din signifies something good; the clashing of pans as the mother makes hotcakes; the father's youthful hound galloping through the kitchen, unaccustomed to tile floor.

[Anonymous No.8817084]

Since time immemorial there has been one sound reviled universally by mankind. I speak not of the "BOOM!" or the "BANG!", but the "CRASH!". Nabokov declared that there was no noise that stirred more apprehension and wariness in him. Numenius of Apamea dubbed it "the sound of God's wrath". The root of this fear and rancor stems from the plainly acknowledged fact that it is seldom a harbringer of good things – of pancakes by the Seine or the unexpected presence of that particular golden canine. One morning in 1936, in a hotel in Vienna, I awoke to that abominable noise. What follows is my (likely inaccurate) recalling of the events that took place that day.

[Anonymous No.8817088]

In those minor hours, those hours of awakening, those hours of the blood of the sun seeping into rooms through all east facing windows, sudden cacophony and clatter rarely foreshadow the joyous. The mother preparing food for her children will not be preceded by such, nor will the arrival of a pathetic new hound adopted by a family. Yet here this dawn, such a noise was heard.

[Anonymous No.8817109]

>>8815655
Crash. It's never good to be awake. Mom made pancakes. We got a dog. A golden retriever. That never wakes me. It's never good.

[Anonymous No.8817115]

>>8817109
Is this Gary Paulson or Hemmingway

[Anonymous No.8817126]

A loud crash comes across the house. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.

[Anonymous No.8817127]

>>8817088
Other than the dog line I like this unironically

[Anonymous No.8817134]

>>8817058
Woolf? George Eliot?

[Anonymous No.8817149]

>>8817084
Is this Borges?
pretty good

[Anonymous No.8817150]

>>8817134
Woolf

[Anonymous No.8817164]

Son: Sirrah, mother, I have heard a crash
Should it be the morning maids awake me
With sweet day-break treats?
Or hast though acquired us a golden pup,
To make merry this Michaelmas?

Mother: Aye, my boy, but 'was not I,
Nor the serving girls that crash,
Thou shouldst knowst tis never good news
To be woken by yonder crashing.

Enter First Murderer

[Anonymous No.8817176]

Son: Sirrah, mother, I have heard a crash
Should it be the morning maids awake me
With sweet day-break treats?
Or hast thou acquired us a golden pup,
To make merry this Michaelmas?

Mother: Aye, my boy, but 'was not I,
Nor the serving girls that crash,
Thou shouldst knowst tis never good news
To be woken by yonder crashing.

Enter First Murderer

[Anonymous No.8817180]

>>8817149
It is

[Anonymous No.8817182]

—Crash! Crash, you young scoundrel! The morning is upon us and there is a day to carry!
—Has mother prepared hotcakes?
—Of course not!
—Has father brought a pup from the farm?
—Heavens, no!
—This can't be good.

[Anonymous No.8817208]

>>8815655
>It was black. There was a loud noise. Then my room was there. I started making noise. Something creaked and then mother was there. She held something in her hands. A plate. Had something warm and soft life my slipper. She gave it to me and I stopped making noise. A dog barked, and then it was there. It was soft, and bright. It smelled like trees.

[Anonymous No.8817231]

>>8817208
Faulkner

[Anonymous No.8817456]

>When one wakes up, when one emerges, from their sleep, it is almost, let us say, a death in itself, for to be cruelly snatched from the dream world into the obscene world of our own reality is not a blessing but a curse. Even the seemingly innocent act of making pancakes, for example, becomes obscene, and something to be hated, because there is a Freudian duality to the act of having a woman cook for you. It is both maternal but also sexual. For as the wife cooks dutifully for the husband, so too does the mother cook lovingly, for the son. Likewise, too, let us imagine a newly adopted Golden Retriever. Again, this is something to be feared, as here the Golden Retriever acts, to a child, as a sort of father figure, a guardian, though, inevitably, he is castrated, much as the child feels castrated by the existence of his own father.
>*sniffs*

[Anonymous No.8817459]

>>8817182
fuckig kek

[Anonymous No.8817501]

When waking as of from some bountious death, to a crash most sickening and ripe rising, the smell of pancakes and golden retrievers reminds you that the world is nothing but a cruel, cruel, horrible and terrible nightmare, and who can save us from this gibbering death?

[Anonymous No.8817513]

When I think back on that time, it is that moment I recall first; to remember more, I must work forward or backward from that. In memory it seems to me I awoke with a start, in gray shirt and ragged trousers, with a contemptuous crash ringing in my ears. While I raised myself from my slumber, I considered the numerous eventualities such a tumult could indicate; images of toasted morning cakes and flaxen canines raced through my mind. I must still have been dreaming, for the portentous sound, it is clear to me now, boded no such happiness.

[Anonymous No.8817552]

>I'm sitting and simmering in the silence of a stale room after dawn when I hear a loud crash, or something like it. When you're on the junk, sounds don't come through right, the silence feels so heavy that every sound comes through like a body breaking the surface of a pool of thick mud, the scrape of glass on glass, a mob tearing each other limb from limb. I almost convince myself it's the drag queen downstairs who likes being called Mom making pancakes and getting fucked against the stove by some queer-bashing john with a briefcase and a suit, while a big and slavering beast of a golden retriever the color of rancid jissom gnaws at its cage. But the sickness makes you smart, at least smart about getting junk and not getting nabbed, and I know it's nothing good coming. I hit the window just in case, and the fire escape down into the river of old condoms and broken needles and wet trash that the cops are too good to wade through over a single broke junky holding barely enough for one.

[Anonymous No.8817597]

>Romero lived alone in a 3rd story apartment, with neither wife nor child nor dog. Sometimes he would lay in bed with his eyes closed, listening through the paper-thin walls and imagine the neighboring family was his. Maria Dolores would shout "despiertate mijo! te hice panques!" and the ratty old retriever would bark. Smiling, Romero would open his eyes, and from the dusty window receive the crashing light of morning.

[Anonymous No.8817601]

>>8817456
the sniff makes me think DFW, but stylistically the passage is nothing like him.

[Anonymous No.8817605]

>>8817601
Are you actually dumb

[Anonymous No.8817614]

>>8815655
Every flapjack was darker than the one before, and smelled delicious. By the time the sun came up they were a beautiful golden brown. The more she flipped the more evenly they bronzed, but the more evenly they bronzed the more she was compelled to flip. They piled endlessly higher, golden like golden retrievers. Unknown to the pancakes but known to us, a young man began to stir in the adjacent room, his fat pink mast filling with morning-blood.

[Anonymous No.8817615]

>Sing o muse
>Of the young one
> Awoken by a crash

I suck at this

[Anonymous No.8817622]

Echoing throughout the room, a loud noise, resembling the "Crash" onomatopoeia resounded deep within my head and flapped my eyes open.

[Anonymous No.8817624]

>>8817622
This gave me leukemia

[Anonymous No.8817639]

>I wanted so badly to lie down next to those flapjacks on the couch, to wrap my arms around my pancakes and eat. Not chow down, like in those movies. Not even munch. Just eat them in the most delicious sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and they had syrup and I was sleepy and they were delicious and I was hopelessly awoken by a crash and they were endlessly buttery. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if pancakes were loud awakening crashes, I was a whimper and they were a gunshot.

[Anonymous No.8817644]

>>8817639
NOOOO BRUH LOLLL

[Anonymous No.8817683]

>>8817622

Is your favourite writer a GOD DAMN IDIOT?

[Anonymous No.8817693]

>>8817639
K E K

[Anonymous No.8817703]

>>8817624
>>8817683
Tfw not really copying anyone, just shitposting whatever.

[Anonymous No.8817708]

>>8817552
I'm just assuming this is Irvine Welsh

>>8817597
maybe Diaz?

>>8817614
kekles

[Anonymous No.8817724]

>>8815655
CRASH! Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Crah-ah-ash: the pursed kiss and tongue swish, the wide open gape as the jet of breath propels itself forward, and shatters against the teeth. CRASH! It was CRASH!, plain CRASH! in the morning, loud enough to wake me up. It was CRASH! when Mom made pancakes. It was CRASH! when we adopted a Golden Retriever. But when something good is happening, it was always CRASH!

[Anonymous No.8817736]

>>8815655
>Now what you have to understand, is that in last decades, pancakes had become America's n°1 breakfast. They were selling the stuff everywhere, grocerystores, malls, you name it. Even I, had fallen for their sweetness. But the thing is, they're not known to make loud crash. So when I was awake, bare naked, half-drunk from last night, by the most loudest crash you can imagine, I knew right away it wasn't my then-fiancée making pancakes, nor her annoying Golden Retrievier puppy. Who (or/and what) could it be ? Cops ? Angels ? Sure wasn't going to be any pleasant surprise.

[Anonymous No.8817737]

>>8817601
Is this a new meme? I really hope so.

[Anonymous No.8817765]

>>8817755
holy fucking kek

[Anonymous No.8817769]

My sweet caring mother, I did as you told me, you darling thing, and woke myself up when I heard your crashing. I am delighted that you do like making pancakes for me. Yes, now I can remember that morning when I dined with you for so long, so hungrily. It was the fluffiest batch of pancakes you ever gave me, mother. My fork was stuck in my mouth for hours, shoveling in and in those lovely steaming hotcakes. I felt your craftsmanship on my tongue and saw the care you used in your baking. At every bite I took the marvelous flavor came bursting past my lips and if I chewed it for a while longer than usual, lovely gobs of syrup came rushing from the dough. I had a plateful of pancakes that morning, mother, and I ate every single one, big turgid ones, flat cakey ones, round fluffy ones and a lot of tiny little hotcakes ending in a lovely feeling of euphoria. It is wonderful to eat from a plate of fluffy pancakes when each cake reveals another one under it. I think I would know my mother's pancakes anywhere. I think I could pick hers out of a table full of pancakes. It is a rather light batter she uses, not like the thick flowing one I imagine other mothers make. It is creamy and soft and sweet like what a master chef would prepare for the most high paying of his customers. I hope you will make no end of your pancakes in my kitchen so that I may know their taste always.

[Anonymous No.8817774]

>>8817769
H O L Y S H I T

[Anonymous No.8817778]

Rarely waking up to a crash means something good is happening.
Our protagonist reflected on this.
It never crashes to signify syrupy, fluffy pancakes that would melt in your mouth with buttery flavor and a flagon of sweet and smooth strawberry cordial to wash it all down at breakfast time.
Nor does it ever crash to warn of an approaching golden retriever.

[Anonymous No.8817779]

>>8817769

[Anonymous No.8817788]

>>8817769

[Anonymous No.8817799]

>>8817769
Delete this board

[Anonymous No.8817804]

Waking up to a loud crash has seldom been accompanied, a few groggy, red-eyed seconds later, by the realization that something good is happening. It takes a crash of a particularly virile magnitude to be able to rouse oneself from a Temazepan[1]-cajoled sleep, and, contrary to the idyll of Lotus-eating children in the television advertisements, the smell of Mom busily making Betty Crocker pancakes[2] is unlikely to chemically alter the concentration of gamma-aminobutyric acid at the GABAA receptor, the cause of your unsteady slumber.

[1]Temazepam (brand names Restoril and Normison, among others) is an intermediate-acting 3-hydroxy hypnotic of the benzodiazepine class of psychoactive drugs. It is the 3-hydroxy analogue of diazepam, and one of diazepam's primary active metabolites. Temazepam is approved for the short-term treatment of insomnia. In addition, temazepam has anxiolytic (antianxiety), anticonvulsant, and skeletal muscle relaxant properties.

[2]Heat the pan over a moderate heat, then wipe it with oiled kitchen paper. Ladle some batter into the pan, tilting the pan to move the mixture around for a thin and even layer. Quickly pour any excess batter into a jug, return the pan to the heat, then leave to cook, undisturbed, for about 30 secs.

[Anonymous No.8817828]

>>8817769
Pure gold

[Anonymous No.8817848]

In the approach to the limitation of the impossibility of ownership and only in the imminence of the proverbially disruptive CRASH can one having sensed attainment embrace his own wakening in the charter and reconstruction of his now fowl daydream overlooking the tedium of "a Golden Retriever", "pancakes", his morning rarely happening at all.

[Anonymous No.8817858]

>>8817769
/lit/ baby who is this?

[Anonymous No.8817859]

when
i woke to that sound
i knew nothing good
would happen, not
pancakes
nor
adopted golden retrievers
like you adopted
the gold
in my heart

[Anonymous No.8817862]

>>8817858
letters to Nora

[Anonymous No.8817864]

>>8817769
this is actually making me supremely uncomfortable

[Anonymous No.8817868]

CRASH, noise of my life, fire of my stove. My dog, my cakes. CR-A-SH: the sound of bad forebodings taking a trip of three steps down the stairs to tap, at three, on the stove. Cr. A. Sh. She was Cr, plain Cr, in the morning, standing at 4 pancakes in one stack. She was Cra in syrup. She was Pancakes at school. She was a golden retriever on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always CRASH. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no CRASH at all had I not had, one summer, an initial pancake stack. In a diner by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before CRASH was made as my age was that summer. You can always count on a mom for a fancy CRASH. Ladies and gentlemen of the dog shelter, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of pancakes.

[Anonymous No.8817873]

>>8815655
Waking up to a crash is never good.

[Anonymous No.8817920]

This morning: loud crash; never good.

[Anonymous No.8817924]

>>8817769

[Anonymous No.8817948]

>>8817176
Brilliant.

[Anonymous No.8817956]

>>8817724
Good imitation and no of crashes

[Anonymous No.8817968]

>>8817176
Highly underrated
>>8817769
Still underrated holy fuck

[Anonymous No.8817991]

>>8817176
>ctrl+f -/-/-/-/-/
>0 results
|:

[Anonymous No.8818118]

Flipping and flipping on the sizzling fire
The dream no longer hears the hot batter
Sleep falls apart, the slumber cannot hold,
No swimming pup is loosed upon the house
No gold-furred dog is loosed but everywhere
The hopes of morn by din are drowned.
The Holy lacks a second foe, while the first
Is filled with increasing desire.

[Anonymous No.8818146]

>>8817769
Fuckin kek

[Anonymous No.8818177]

>>8817769
This made me cum

[Anonymous No.8818180]

The crash forced itself into audible spaces. Loud sounds, there as usual, under the veil of deceitful tranquility. He doesn't know what that means. He knows what it doesn't mean. Pancakes or the presence of some yet unnamed Golden retriever were obviously out of the possible options due to the nearly nil probability of that sound being the herald of something good happening. He wakes up and tries to find his way into knowledge. He wakes and here he comes because he doesn't know.

[Anonymous No.8818185]

>>8817769
Normally, people who don't find a post remarkable won't reply to that post. But I hereby reply to inform you I don't find your post to be very funny or clever.

[Anonymous No.8818196]

>>8817513
Proust?

[Anonymous No.8818200]

>>8818185
> big turgid ones, flat cakey ones, round fluffy ones and a lot of tiny little hotcakes
You have to admit that's funny

[Anonymous No.8818313]

>>8817456
>zizek
>not mentioning that in a specific Eastern German vernacular the golden retriever was called tin retriever because people jokingly said that everyone who mentioned the word "gold" was put into prison by the stasi for possible capitalist endeavours

[Anonymous No.8818490]

>>8815655
A wake up-crash spells anything good is rare. You never wake up to the crash of your mother making pancakes[1] and you never wake up to the crash of your parents' latest purchase of a golden retriever [2].


[1] a thin, flat, spongy cake made from flour, eggs and milk, usually served stacked and with syrup or sugared powder and eaten as breakfast.

[2]Canis lupus familiaris

[Anonymous No.8818537]

>>8817769
>I had a plateful of pancakes that morning, mother, and I ate every single one, big turgid ones, flat cakey ones, round fluffy ones and a lot of tiny little hotcakes ending in a lovely feeling of euphoria.

[Anonymous No.8818541]

The splash of water in the morning, the lurching of the Mediterranean reaching up against the golden light of dawn, has rarely been a good omen. It's never SPLASH! Icarus leaps out of the sea. Nor SPLASH! Zeus, son of Cronus, in the form of a majestic white bull, pulls Europa from shore for consensual sex. Nor SPLASH! Aegeus throws himself from a cliff to go for a swim and clean himself off before he greats his son.

[Anonymous No.8818597]

Being aroused by a loud crash is a most unusual and singular neurosis, one of which I must admit I can not understand. No child should ever have cause to associate the sound of a crash with, say, the titillating memories of his mother bent over a stove making pankcakes, or of his walks along the Ringstraße with his first pet, a dog named Amalia, nor of the unspeakable experimentations with this Golden Retriever later that night, but I digress....

[Anonymous No.8818606]

>>8817769

[Anonymous No.8818614]

>>8817769
___.... _ ____ ____....

[Anonymous No.8818654]

>>8817176
This has been the first thread I've been glad I've read for days and yours is the best post in it.

[Anonymous No.8818734]

>>8815655
Waking up to pancakes. CRASH. Golden retriever spat and they rode on

[Anonymous No.8819263]

>>8816373
The tortilla man? Never read him.

[Anonymous No.8819288]

Some time ago in the peculiar little corner of the world which we dwelt, before the new chateaux were constructed with their steep gables and their gaudy windows, I found myself awoken not by the whistle of the tea-kettle but by the rude sound of an automobile piercing my dormitory, penetrating unto the utmost interiority. Rarely could such an unseemly sound be said to carry with it beneficial portents - one would not often associate such cacophony with, say, the adoption of a newly bitch'd hunting-dog, or the sweet fragrances of griddle-cakes as only a mother might griddle.

[Anonymous No.8819301]

>>8817501
Nabokov?
>>8817552
Borroughs? Never read him.
>>8817848
Kant? Never read him.
>>8818118
Nice Yeast for that batter.
>>8818180
Beckett? Never read him.
>>8817088
>>8817182
>>8817208
>>8817597
>>8817614
>>8817736
I wish I knew what these were.

[Anonymous No.8819304]

>>8817597
Is this Hemmmmmmmmmming way

[Anonymous No.8819344]

>"My goodness man what is that awful crashing!?" He yelled in an acid filled frenzy. "Knock it off before you scare the dog and get us arrested in this God forsaken land!" Causing his attorney to play fetch with the now knocked over lamp post.

[Anonymous No.8819395]

>>8815655

>Ch 1. Morning

>Waking up to a loud crash is never good.

>Ch 2. My fucking head hurts and I'm oretty sure it's your fault

>It's never a neat surprise or something pleasant. Like, you hear a crash and found out it's because your mom made pancakes

>3. If I get out of bed I might kill someone

>Or, like "CRASH! We got a Golden Retriever

>Ch 4. I'd name it Spot

>I fucking hate dogs

[Anonymous No.8819484]

>>8819304
>>8819301

I'll be honest here. I just rewrote it with no one in mind. Maybe a little Steinbeck.

[Anonymous No.8819591]

>Waking up to a loud crash rarely means something good is happening. It’s never “CRASH! Mom made pancakes!” or “CRASH! We decided to adopt a Golden Retriever! Once he was awake, Harry decided to stretch his legs.

[Anonymous No.8819611]

>>8815655
-You wake up this morning?
-I did. There was a crash.
-A crash?
-Ye.
-Was the crash real? The crash?
-It was.
-Where was it? What was it?
-Inside me. It always was there.
-Was it the pancakes you ate?
-No. The crash is there and it is not so that it never was or shan't be. It is there, like a wild Golden Retriever's bark. Like a fire burning. I keep it burning. I burn it small and hidden, savvy?
-Ye.

They spat.

[Anonymous No.8819649]

The noise crashed, having no alternative, not for pancakes or a golden dog.

[Anonymous No.8819655]

No pancakes. No dogs.

-
Crash.

[Anonymous No.8819657]

>>8815655
Crashing. Croshing. Crishing. Crosh. I don't know what that noise was, me. But I hear it well and shake with dread, for I know by now that Mother hasn't made pancakes, for she rarely does, nor that she's brought home some mangy rich person's dog, which once she did but Father put an end to.

[Anonymous No.8819696]

. .

[Anonymous No.8819740]

CRASH!

Nothing good.

[Anonymous No.8819784]

>>8819611
Becket ?

[Anonymous No.8819819]

>>8819784
Not the poster but it's clearly McCarthy

[Anonymous No.8819828]

>>8818606
underrated

[Anonymous No.8819858]

>>8815655
>A crashing came across the sky

[Anonymous No.8819868]

>>8817639
Aw man. You took mine I was gonna post something like this before you but I was banned for shitposting on my home ip address and I'm permabanned on my cellular data due to ban evasion.

Oh well

>I wanted so badly to wake up to a crash, pancakes next to me on the couch, to wrap my lips around them and eat. Not feast upon, like on the food network. Not even chewing. Just biting in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked a golden retriever and my mom couldn't cook and I was inept in the kitchen and the cooking instructions were written in jargon and I was hopelessly autistic and they seemed endlessly unattainable. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if I had pancakes they would go great with a drizzle of syrup.

[Anonymous No.8819881]

>>8819611
damn came to post something like this

>>8818490
Wallace?

[Anonymous No.8819888]

>>8817769
holy....i want more...

[Anonymous No.8819895]

>>8817456
>>8817804

underrated

[Anonymous No.8819963]

>>8819344
HST underrated

[Anonymous No.8819979]

The meme has gone full circle. A whole thread based around an awful opening sentence and writing prompt from reddit.

The worst part is I'm loving it.

[Anonymous No.8820024]

The crash was loud. Deafeningly so. It reminded him of the traffic on 4th and 9th. For a moment, he felt he could smell the streets. He sensed cars honking in chaotic order. Like the rhythm of some higher presence. It was an oddly calming feeling.

[Anonymous No.8820093]

CRASHES

One often wonders about crashes. I write this little piece as I am strolling through the elegant forest, where all the trees appear to have closed their eyelids, I mean shed their leaves, in my wake. I am reminded of a novella that I read by Keller, about a man whose young woke to the sound of a crash. She was filled with worry, as it occurred to her that crashes always herald something dreadful. However, she was lulled back to sleep by some songbirds in the bushes outside her window. But this piece is not very good, I believe, as I have failed to convey my thesis. Alas, how we think of crashes!

[Anonymous No.8820097]

>>8815999
BOOM CRASH

checkem

[Anonymous No.8820101]

>>8817084
>vienna

Borges the madman.

[Anonymous No.8820136]

>>8817769
Ya did well, lass.

[Anonymous No.8820153]

>>8815655
CRASH! Utter confusion exists among the historians of this animal’ (Sperm whale), says Surgeon Beale, A.D. 1839. Of the names in this list of whale authors, only those following Owen ever saw living whales; and but one of them was aUnder this head I reckon a monster which, by the various names of Fin-back, Tall-spout, and Long-John, has been seen almost in every sea and is commonly the whale whose distant jet is so often descried by passengers crossing the Atlantic, in the New York packet-tracks. In the length he attains, and in his baleen, the Fin-back resembles the Right whale, but is of a less portly girth, and a lighter colour, approaching to olive. His great lips present a cable-like aspect, formed by the intertwisting, slanting folds of large wrinkles. His grand distinguishing feature, the fin, from which he derives his name, is often a conspicuous object. This fin is some three or four feet long, growing vertically from the hinder part of the back, of an angular shape, and with a very sharp-pointed end. Even if not the slightest other part of the creature be visible, this isolated fin will, at times, be seen plainly projecting from the surface. When the sea is moderately calm, and slightly marked with spherical ripples, and this gnomon-like fin stands up and casts shadows upon the wrinkled surface, it may well be supposed that the watery circle surrounding it somewhat resembles a dial, with its style and wavy hour-lines graved on it. On that Ahaz-dial the shadow often goes back. The Fin-back is not gregarious. He seems a whale-hater, as some men are man-haters. Very shy; always going solitary; unexpectedly rising to the surface in the remotest and most sullen waters; his straight and single lofty jet rising like a tall misanthropic spear upon a barren plain; gifted with such wondrous power and velocity in swimming, as to defy all present pursuit from man; this leviathan seems the banished and unconquerable Cain of his race, bearing for his mark that style upon his back. From having the baleen in his mouth, the Fin-back is sometimes included with the Right whale, among a theoretic species denominated Whalebone whales, that is, whales with baleen. Of these so-called Whalebone whales, there would seem to be several varieties, most of which, however, are little known. Broad-nosed whales and Beaked whales; Pike-headed whales; Bunched whales; Under-jawed whales and Rostrated whales, are the fishermen’s names for a few sorts. CRASH!

[Anonymous No.8820226]

Me levante violentamente una mañana del verano de 1989. Un aturdidor estallido CRASH! me quito el sueño y empeze a sudar frio. El susto fue tanto que me hizo olvidar de la emborrachada de la noche anterior, habia salido con mis amigos y tomamos como desesperados de la pobreza. Me levante de la cama y me puze los calzones sucios, embarrados de heces, seguro me habia cagado. Un espezo olor a grasa en el aire me dio una nausea espectacular, era la vieja preparandome panqueques, tan buena mi madre. Me acuerdo el dia cuando trajo a Pepe del refugio municipal, yo esperaba un Golden Retriever pero eran esperanzas de niño bobo, en ese entonces en Chile no habian perros de raza pura solo mixtos pulgosos. No se por qué pense que Pepe habi roto la vase de ceramica en la sala, despues de todo, el habia muerto hace dos años, una dia lo encontre muerto en el patio, envenenado y extremecido con espuma en su boca, y la vieja vase la vendi poco antes de que la vieja haya muerto, hace más de tres años. No se quien esta en mi cocina.

[Anonymous No.8820995]

>>8817769

[Anonymous No.8821029]

>>8818313
oh my god
tin retriever
anaon that is great

[Anonymous No.8821039]

Somebody do Dostoevsky

[Anonymous No.8821169]

Where's Mr Samsa?

[Anonymous No.8821224]

Waking up to a loud crash rarely means something good is happening. It’s never “CRASH! Mom made pancakes!” or “CRASH! We decided to adopt a Golden Retriever!”

[Anonymous No.8821226]

>>8821224
kek

[Anonymous No.8821229]

>>8820093
Love this. One barely hears of Walser nowadays, let alone see him lovingly parodied.

[Anonymous No.8821251]

>>8820153
Nice work.

[Anonymous No.8821282]

“Society is part of the futility of sexuality,” says Sontag. However, the
subject is interpolated into a structural capitalism that includes reality as a
reality. The premise of cultural subcapitalist theory states that class,
somewhat ironically, has intrinsic tendency to CRASH!.

But any number of narratives concerning not appropriation, but
subappropriation may be revealed. The subject is contextualised into a
capitalism BOOM! that includes truth as a paradox.

In a sense, the pancake maker suggests that the goal of the poet
is social comment. The main theme of the works of the golden retriever is the rubicon, and
subsequent paradigm, of premodernist narrativity. Nothing good can come of this.

[Anonymous No.8821286]

>>8815655
A crashing came across the sky.

[Anonymous No.8821391]

It was a pleasure to crash. It was a special pleasure to see planes downed, to see pancakes eaten and golden retrievers.

[Anonymous No.8821506]

>>8821391
>and golden retrievers

fucking terrible but made me smile.

[Anonymous No.8821651]

>>8819395
Who the fuck is this?

[Anonymous No.8821746]

>>8817176
Second murderer, if you count god.

[Anonymous No.8822406]

A loud crash rises from outside. Rick Edward 'Dittor', old nickname from the Eastern Bloc folk in his family comes from his mother's side, don't laugh, coolest nicest nice guy on the internet north of tumblr, gets himself out of bed and sits up; and Rick Edward looks about and he can smell the dope from last night and he can feel it, this foggy smoggy kind of fuggedaboutit stuck in his skull and mixing with the hangover from Jolly Tom - J.T. to his friends, but Rick Edward ain't no one's friend if they're going about acronymically - and the bottle of vodka they chugged together with Alastor Microfoil and Harry 'Heavy' Harolds last night; five bottles mark it, six if you count the schnapps Microfoil dug up from his grandfather's apartment dated 1911 year of the war in Turkey against the Italians that Microfoil's old man swears his old man was fighting in, ghosts of the screaming crimes of the century dashed across their jolly japes in Rick Edward's spare room, a-howlin' and a-cryin' just like the old Nazi flag Rick keeps on his far wall next to the framed edition of the NYT from the day Trump was elected...hangover and last night's hashish coupling squishy and wet in the centre of Rick Edward's brain. "Hey," he sez, feeling witty, "wish that coulda been some pancakes."
"The hell?" J.T opines from the floor. "Was that a dog? Thought I heard a dog."
"No, no, man. Fella delivering pancakes." Rick guffaws at his own joke. But J.T is thinking of dogs and he gets up and starts barking and Rick throws the lamp at him. J.T, swashbuckling hero, parries the lamp with his hand and it fragments loud against the wall. And they both stare at it and then J.T, giggling, starts to sing in a showgirl falsetto, strange talent of his picked up in his years in Africa bored off his ass writing a boring-ass book about the Herero genocide:

Pancake, loud crash, golden retriever
we never saw no thing like this
if you said so we'd never believe yer
smoked too much last night,
ate up all your old man's stash,
woken up today (oh no!) (surely not!)
by a loud and spectacular crash!

[Anonymous No.8822415]

>>8820226
This is either Bolaño or Zambra.

[Anonymous No.8822440]

>>8815655
There was suddenly a loud crash to the north, and they knew that it couldn't be good. It wasn't dear mum frying up breakfast, or a lovely new companion arrived to aid them in this horrid conflict. No, all faces were silhouetted to the low evening Sun as they gazed north, for the French guns have announced their eager arrival.

Alright, so I added a bit, but I do find Bernard Cornwell tends to enjoy using directions as well as putting fantastic description into large groups. Not to mention, of course, pic related; Sharpe's series.

[Anonymous No.8822482]

who knew there could actually be good threads on /lit/

[Anonymous No.8822488]

>>8817769

[Anonymous No.8822498]

>>8820226
>20226

off by a few thousand years

[Anonymous No.8822538]

1:1 This is the lineage of Anon, shitposter of 4chan.

1:2 Japan begat Weird shit, Weird shit begat Wannabes, Wannabes begat Whangst.

1:3 Whangst begat Anime, Anime begat Weaboo, Weaboo begat Wapanese.

1:4 Wapanese begat Nippon Steel, Nippon Steel begat Flamewars, Flamewars begat Internet.

1:5 Internet begat Fapping, Fapping begat Fanboyism, Fanboyism begat 2chan, Waifu and Faggotry.

1:6 2chan begat moot, but Waifu begat Asuka and Billy Mays. This was during the founding of Newgrounds.

1:7 moot begat 4chan, 4chan begat /b/, /b/ begat cancer.

1:8 Cancer begat Chemo, Chemo begat Snacks, Snacks begat Hammer.

1:9 Hammer begat b&, b& begat v&, v& begat Party.

1:10 Party begat Pedobear, Pedobear begat Loli, Loli begat Guro.

1:11 Guro begat Sick fuck, who begat Cockmongler. This was during the breakthrough of web 2.0.

1:12 Cockmongler begat Happy negro, Happy negro begat Desu, Desu begat Rei.

1:13 Rei begat Rule 34, Rule 34 begat Futa, Futa begat Debate on heterosexuality.

1:14 Debate on heterosexuality begat Rage, Rage begat The Game, The Game begat Bel-Air.

1:15 Bel-Air begat Girugamesh, Girugamesh begat Forced memes, Forced memes begat Stagnation.

1:16 Stagnation begat Shitposting, husband of Hopelessness, who gave birth to Anon by the grace of Depression.

1:17 Thus from Japan to moot there are 14 steps, from moot to Cockmongler there are 14 steps, and from Cockmongler to Anon there are another 14 steps.

[Anonymous No.8822555]

>>8822538
Too fucking tired, finish later, gotta sleep.

If you have good ideas for how to work with this, go on


ZZZzzzZZZZZZZ

[Anonymous No.8822615]

>>8815655
You wake up to a loud crash. Somehow you know what is waiting for you downstairs is neither pancakes or a golden retriever.

To go downstairs and investigate, turn to page 32
To sneak out the window, turn to page 114

[Anonymous No.8822620]

>>8822615
Gave me goosebumps.

[Anonymous No.8822630]

>>8822615
i laughed

[Anonymous No.8822633]

>>8822615
114

[Anonymous No.8822722]

>Betty McCharacter awakened to a loud crash. It wasn't anything good, crashes were never any good. Nobody ever says "A crash, Mom must be making pancakes." Nobody ever says "A crash, someone must have adopted a golden retriever." Nobody ever says "A crash, I must have won the prize." And so on. It's usually "A crash..." followed by the civilians of a warring city having their lives of work, and taking care of children, and eating large amounts of unhealthy foods interrupted by something somebody in a plane was tasked with dropping on them.

[Anonymous No.8822733]

>>8819611
Either Wallace or Gaddis. The last line makes me think Wallace, the first 11 make me thing Gaddis

[Anonymous No.8822747]

>>8817769
H O L Y
O
L
Y

S H I T
H
I
T

[Anonymous No.8822749]

>>8817858
Jimmy Joyce

[Anonymous No.8822757]

>>8822733
It's definitely a really shitty McCarthy

[Anonymous No.8822774]

>>8815655
One mid-winter morning Mrs Anon awoke sharply to an explosion in her living room, still groggy from the punch at the tupperware party last night, whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in, to find that she, Mrs Anon, had not been made pancakes or given a puppy, but found that something very bad had indeed happened.

[Anonymous No.8822779]

>>8822757
Yeah you're probably right, it's just that it reads exactly like the chapter near the end of The Pale King, and I'm retarded enough to immediately assume Gaddis whenever I see unattributed dialogue

[Anonymous No.8822780]

ACT 1
SCENE 1

CASTUS -

What repugnant sound is this?
I find myself awoken shocked!
A burgling man perhaps invading,
Come to spell my doom to me?
O' Mother! I pray, do speak to me
And say that you have made pancakes
Or brought a gold retriever home
That might defend this frightened child.
Alas, such noise prefigures doom
I surely meet my end this day
For crash and bang are demons sound
No mother makes a din so beastly

[Anonymous No.8822783]

>>8817182
I don't know who this is, but it reminds me of I. Compton-Burnett

[Anonymous No.8822889]

>A distant booming awakens me. It reminds of back home, when Mother clatters the kitchen around to make potato cakes, or the learning that there is a fat canine in the area. Alas, I come to realize that the booming was indeed the English artillery, and sadly, there are no potato cakes nor juicy dog flesh to be found.

[Anonymous No.8823010]

>>8815655
Being jolted awake by the sound of a crash is rarely, if ever, a good sign regardless of whether the crash occurs after daybreak or not, although it should be noted that crashes which jolt you awake in the middle of the night definitely have a significantly higher chance of being a bad sign. For example, pancakes do not crash when they are made for breakfast nor do golden retrievers crash when they are adopted, and thus you will never be jolted awake by either of these things occurring. Well, not jolted awake with a crash at any rate.

[Anonymous No.8823341]

>>8815999
BOOM BOOM CRASH

BOOM BOOM CRASH

BOOM BOOM CRASH

BOOM BOOM CRASH

Buddy you're a boy making pancakes
Playin' with your dog gonna be a big man some day

[Anonymous No.8823367]

Out on the street something's crashing
My head's filled with scenarios flashing
Nothing good
in my hood

[Anonymous No.8823538]

>>8817769
> tons of replies
Naturally. Well done.

[Anonymous No.8823857]

>>8822615
Which one is this?

[Anonymous No.8823954]

>>8817769
Jesus Christ

[Anonymous No.8823986]

>>8817639
>rewriting a John Green quote in the style of a John Green quote
Big Dave was right, he was right about everything

[Anonymous No.8824035]

As I awoke to a crash the familiar feeling of nausea rose within me once again as I realized I still existed. I went downstairs and made meaningless love to a host of beautiful women who are all hopelessly in love with me and my intellect. As I lazily thrusted away I puffed on a cigarette and wished it would give me cancer so I would have something to die for. I lethargically rolled off my harem of admirers and sullenly wondered whether anything good was going to happen to me today. I sent one of my suitors downstairs to go and cook me some pancakes whilst I peered out of the window and laughed at people passing in the street. I could tell they weren't as clever as me. A man left his Golden Retriever outside a shop whilst he went inside to buy a newspaper. I stole it but got bored and kicked it out of my apartment five minutes later because its devoted companionship and doting affection made me sick to my fucking stomach.

[Anonymous No.8824107]

>>8824035
This is edgy enough to ape the stranger but has nothing of its style, what is it?

[Anonymous No.8824269]

Somewhere darkness eats a section of land with black hands, but not here, for the light is not sodium vapor's but sun's, and the wind is not sea's but land's, and this morning's rosebud bloom a palindrome that starts and ends with silence, mirrored by a structure of sound - akin to a stream of zeroes in Morse- that from hereon, is referred to as a crash.

Like the thunder post-saging lightning, a crash absolves the portents from the omens, and having been released heralds in its vibrations momentum-and-inertia's eternal conflict; a promise of neither pancakes nor pups, but of hound-chains and shards. Hence, the second palindrome of two mornings cleaved by a crash.

[Anonymous No.8824307]

>>8824107

It's mocking Nausea by Sartre

[Anonymous No.8824310]

god these threads always make me feel so inadequate

[Anonymous No.8824686]

>>8822774
Pinecone

[Anonymous No.8825047]

>>8824310
Why??

[Anonymous No.8825189]

And I thought, The sound of a crash seldom brings good news, or any sort of happiness at all; though I suppose it could be the crash of plates in the morning, the smell of pancakes rising from downstairs where my mother laboured every morning. It could the sound of a Golden Retriever puppy, clumsily exploring her new home. My father used to raise foxes.

[Anonymous No.8825250]

>>8815655
Diary of Inspector Ackton found in personal affects, entry June 3rd, 1906.
Awoke this morning to a crash. Was filled with unending dread of the unseen and unknown lurking terror that produced such an indescribable sound.

[Anonymous No.8825282]

When one wakes from a loud noise, a Screaming of the Object, it's rarely a good thing... Rarely a relief like pissing while under the influence of illicit drugs, fire backspinning through urine, body cleansed, but still in clouds, ultimate terror through the vague offer of terrenity, water falling through grey sand bars, shallow in the surmountable way... With this Screaming no Mom hasn't made pancakes no you haven't adopted a golden retriever...

[Anonymous No.8825552]

>>8825250
>Tentacleman

[Anonymous No.8825565]

>>8825189
That semicolon can just be replaced with a comma, senpai.

[Anonymous No.8825745]

>>8825189
>It could the sound of a Golden Retriever puppy, clumsily exploring her new home; My father used to raise foxes.
There's your semi-colon.

[Anonymous No.8825903]

>>8825745
>My
Never use uppercase after semi-colon.

[Anonymous No.8826130]

>>8825903
Eating lots of food comes naturally; i am fat.

[Anonymous No.8826144]

>>8826130
yfw

[Anonymous No.8826492]

>>8815655
To be brought back from sleep into this senseless existence, which is always only cruel and destructive to the human being, by a loud noise, such as the crash of American bombs being dropped with brutality and abjection over the national socialist walls of the city, or something slightly minor, like a mistake from a clumsy mother that smashes a pot against the floor, is a sign of catastrophe, and always only a sign of catastrophe, for it has never been the case in which clatter or noise or estridency, whichever be its cause or procedence, damaging and stupid in its squalor in every case, has announced anything worthy of joy or celebration, such as a nurturing breakfast cooked with the tenderness and good will of a caring mother, and not the badly heated plate of slime one forces themselves to eat daily, pretending the body can absorb any nutrients from slime completely devoid of taste and heat, for breakfast slime leads to the slow death of the person and always only to the slow death of the person.

[Anonymous No.8826880]

>>8815655
The loud crash that one was hastening to, even know, was he to know that there were dogs, numberless dogs, ever hastening, running, tongues lolling wildly, eyes rolling crazily towards the very phantom that had produced them, pancakes.

[Anonymous No.8827058]

>>8821746
A great opening line causes the reader to want to more. In this case, my immediate reaction was "why is god the enemy?" Great concept, with great contrast, and I would love to read more.
Great prose also has great flow-great rhythm. Again, yours is a perfect example. The cadence is so perfect. Sounds great and feels great.
My friends and clients know me as often being over critical. On the other hand, when I see greatness, I am equally blunt. Your opening line is nothing less than superb.

[Anonymous No.8827838]

>>8817176
Best thing I ever read on /lit/.

[Anonymous No.8827853]

Yes, we call it joyous, adopting the Golden Retriever; of frying pancakes, of savoring their golden fluff, a drunk Dionysus moving his mandibles back and forth, digesting what has been proffered, stopping only to stroke our canine friend; and that crash, which regularly returns us to its source, which starts us on the journey of our waking, sometimes passable but never good, is that which heralds the taste to come, so when the mighty car should level our house--Well then we must live with our despair, know the horror of disappointment, let our contentments melt, our doggos die and breakfasts burn, be swiftly yanked from a comfortable sleep--To return to the world of the living, when you were the undeniable target of a hit-and-run.

[Anonymous No.8828812]

>>8817769
10/10
>>8825189
Inappropriate use of a semicolon pal

[Anonymous No.8829117]

>>8817176
I thoroughly enjoyed this post

[Anonymous No.8829124]

>>8817724
Këk

[Anonymous No.8829126]

>>8815655

Waking up to a loud c---
>kills himself

[Anonymous No.8829355]

>>8826130
Well played ; you're a fgt.

[Anonymous No.8829482]

>>8815655
I rose from a deep slumber, one characterized by dreams of black, ghastly figures that, if I were able to put them into words while accurately capturing their grimness, would drive even the hardiest of men to insanity. What awoke me was a crash. Could it be that the gruesome figures that haunt my dreams traveled the planes to haunt me here as well? After all, long gone are the days where the sounds I woke up to were the sounds of mother cooking breakfast, or the sounds of Fido barking at the mailman.

[Anonymous No.8831261]

>>8817088
cormac right?

[Anonymous No.8831339]

>>8831261
yep yep

[Anonymous No.8831381]

>>8815655
I fucking hate /r/writing. The fact that that was considered 'OMG THIS IS SO GOOD' by that community made me realize I never need to go to that site again for anything literary.

[Anonymous No.8831423]

>>8831381
It sounds a lot like Ernest Cline's generic snarky narrator voice, so that may have had something to do with it.

I was in a class one time with a guy who wrote mostly comedy, and he had that same kind of silly, conversational tone, but he used it to talk about drugs and dating and hiding your insecurity behind playing the comedian, so it kind of worked.

[Anonymous No.8831429]

>>8817176
really nice anon

[Anonymous No.8831596]

>>8815655
>Sunrise found him curled up in bed, groaning. Every buzz was louder than the one before, and seemed louder. By the time the sun came up he was eating golden pancakes. The more he ate, the more he drank, but the more he ate, the fuller he grew, and his hunger sent him crawling to the fridge to pull out more milk.

A Feast of Pancakes - George R. R. Martin

[Anonymous No.8831652]

>>8816383
kek

[Anonymous No.8831711]

Deep within the Chamber of Breakfast, in forbidden and spider-haunted Stygia, the hot cakes steamed within an iron sarcophagus. There was no table setting, no syrup, no butter.

Around it stood four tawny-haired corsairs, Hyrkanian reavers all. The smell of the pancakes intoxicated them.

"By Mitra!" whispered the first. "The cakes! They're still warm!"

"Quiet, you dog-eyed cur," said another, glancing at the black and leafless trees beyond. Somewhere off in the distance a wolf began to moan. A chill wind swept through the desolate tomb.

Slowly, the cakes began to rise into the air.

"You damned fool, Stentorius," laughed one of the thieves, bitterly. "These are the Cakes of Doom!"

A nimbus of green flame surrounded the pancakes. Slowly a cruel and twisted face materialized in the centre.

"I was not always a pancake," said the face, its eyes flashing with a cold and malevolent intelligence. "Once I was Ar-Xanatar, of the Black Ring of Set. For my necroculinary arts I was banished here. And now, you fools, in your hunger, you have set me free!"

[Anonymous No.8831854]

What was that I just heard there. Woke me up so sudden. It was a bangish sound, like a tympany. Except. Louder it was, more crashier. Wasn't there that old saying, nothing good happens when you hear a crash the. It could've been nice. Not like you ever hear a good thing after a crash. Never get a dog after a crash or, yes, maybe, maybe like pancakes. Mushy things. Like my mother used to. She never cooked well.

[Anonymous No.8831892]

>>8817615
CRASH--Sing, O Goddess, of that great calamity,
which wrought unto the Achaean countless knocks;
which spurned a thousand piercing cries of malice;
which deceived the Achaeans with it's sound.
Sing, Goddess, of the deception rung unto their ears,
of the non-sizzle of sun-gold pancakes from Thetis,
which resounded as a saw runs bleeding through a pine,
sending its dust throughout the forest like a plague.
O! Muse, sing of the deception which wrought them,
whispered in their ears the adoption of war-hounds;
which yippering like a new-born's fresh-lain cries,
were not so--the will of Zeus was moving to its end.

[Anonymous No.8831907]

>>8831854

Who's style is this?

[Anonymous No.8831913]

>>8831907

Whose. I'm really sorry about that /lit/.

[Anonymous No.8832464]

>>8831913
James Joyce, specifically copying the style of Bloom's stream of consciousness in Ulysses.

[Anonymous No.8832713]

"A crash, a crash" said Billy Hood
"A crash can just mean nothing good"

Was it perhaps the Wallabeast,
Flapping jacks like mother's feast?
Flipping, flapping, this way, that,
It sure does flap some tasty jacks,

"That's not it" said Billy Hood
"Flapjacks taste good, at least they should"
"And like I said" said Billy Hood,
"A crash can just mean nothing good"

Maybe it's the Doptanog,
Adopting dogs out from this bog,
Beagles, pugs, a Yorkie-poo,
A cute golden retriever, too,

"That's not it either" shouted Hood,
"Those dogs looked good from where I stood"
"And like I said" said Billy Hood,
"A crash can just mean nothing good"

And then it came, a crash so loud,
From a symbol on its crown,
Great and hairy like a bear,
Symbols crashing everywhere,

Symbols out from underarms,
A one-man band with crashing charm,
Symbols, symbols, everywhere,
Crashing just too loud to bear,

"There it is" said Billy Hood,
"There it is, the Nuthingud!"
"I waited for its music show"
And as it was he sat down so,

And then they came from all around,
Billy's friends that he did found,
The Wallabeast and Doptanog,
Bringing flapjacks and the dogs,

"This is great" said Billy Good,
"Let's all hear the Nuthingud"
"Friends together, as they should"
"A crash sometimes means something good"

[Anonymous No.8832718]

>>8832713

fucking bravo anon

[Anonymous No.8832798]

>>8832713
nice

[Anonymous No.8832808]

>>8831854
needs more Irish.

[Anonymous No.8832814]

>>8832713
i cry

[Anonymous No.8832964]

>>8817769
>69

[Anonymous No.8833899]

>>8832713
*cymbals

[Anonymous No.8833906]

>>8832713
applaudingorsonwelles.gif

[Anonymous No.8833952]

>>8832713
this is very good and i like how it has a happy ending

had a laff

[Anonymous No.8834081]

>>8832713
Nobel prize worthy

[Anonymous No.8834124]

>>8817552
This is definitely Burroughs

[Anonymous No.8834148]

Somebody must have made a false step inside Goldie R.s apartment, for one morning, without him having set up any rubble one could stumble over, he heard a man crash outside his bedroom door. Through the slowly opening door he watched, still numb and stiff from his sleep, the face of a man appear who was certainly not his wife Felize B. bringing pancakes. Lifting his hand to shoo away the man clad in an imperial uniform, who had turned pale from surprise and disgust, all while R. who was unsoftly woken up should be the surprised one, he realized his arm was covered in golden fur. The gasp he wanted to emit was, now surprising him, a bark.

[Anonymous No.8834234]

>>8820226
has to be Mariachi Pynchon

[Anonymous No.8834244]

>>8816373

That's not a good impression.

>He woke up and heard the crash and folded the pancake and petted the golden retriever and ate the pancake and thanked her

[Anonymous No.8834467]

>>8817769
>>8832713
Literally my two favorite 2016 readings.

[Anonymous No.8834600]

>>8819591
Nice