Alright, Flood, I've decided that I would write a story for you. It's still a work in progress, so any constructive criticism would be appreciated. Let me know what you think, and if you guys like it, I'll try to post part two by Tuesday. Gatsby cruised down the highway in his exotic sports car with some portentous Italian name. He was going to be late to the party, which was fine by him. He always made sure to be consistent in his unpunctuality. A very, very small part of him was skeptical of the mysterious invitation to an unknown location sent by an unknown host, but a much larger part of him knew that he couldn’t surpass the opportunity to consume alcohol and meet women. He took the letter from the glove compartment, taking both hands off the wheel in the process, but keeping his foot pressed down unto the gas pedal. He read, “Hello, Gatsby. Come to 69, Elm street in Greenville, California and I promise you won’t die in a gruesome way. It will be like a party.” What he noticed: party. He took a swig of rubbing alcohol and drove on. MyNameIsCharlie dusted his fedora as he sat in the back of the bus. He wasn’t fond of public transportation, but it was his only way to get where he needed to go. A young girl sat by him, which he didn’t mind at first, but he gagged at the sight of the cross she wore on her necklace. It seemed as if there was no escape from the mindless sheep. Trying to ignore her, he took out the letter he had received that day. He read, “nfwiaunvwiuef42424fwIEOUPEW89WP4jf/d./wsmfo’pfsniao314895749015uututut42jnabijq42if42oiefjwA424242A42424242424242424242424242424244242424242 42” While this may be confusing to some of lesser minds, deciphering it was a rather simple task for one of his intellectual intelligence. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, knowing good and well what the instructions asked of him. He was to go to a specific address and meet a mystery host for a party. He couldn’t resist a mystery, so he was on his way to uncover this hidden knowledge. He basked in his euphoria as he waited patiently. llx luke xll sat alone in his basement. He would be going to no parties that day. Or any day, for that matter. Greene looked at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand, and back at the street address on the door in front of her. She was definitely in the right place. Looking back at the sheet of paper in her hand, she read, “Hey, Greene. Come to x of y and magical things will happen. You have no idea how tired I’m getting of writing these.” If Greene, were any smarter, she may have noticed the obvious sketchiness, but unfortunately, neither she or any other characters in this story had such an advantage. She stepped onto the porch and looked down. “Hehehe, porch.” she said. Greene then knocked on the door and waited. to be continued...