This is the beginning of the story. This is not the end of the story. Pretty soon we'll be in the middle of the story, but we're not there yet. This is how the story will begin.
This is where the story continues. It's feeling lonely because nobody is adding to the story. It would like to travel and go somewhere, so one day somebody with a few minutes to spare decided to help the story and put it on a train. Now the story is on a train and it is a lot happier now that it is going somewhere.
Unfortunately, the person who put the story on the train didn't give it a ticket first. This led to a very interesting conversation between the story and the conductor (who was rather confused by talking to a story in the first place). Luckily for the story and the peace of mind of the last author, the conductor wound up agreeing that the story didn't need a ticket. So the story started wandering around the train looking for people to be about.
Seeing a clean old man in the corner, the story moseyed on over to speak with him. It turned out he was Paul's grandfather...the other one, and that the old man was very clean. Since the old man wanted to speak of nothing but sex, the story tried to find someone else to speak with, as the story didn't want to lose it's mental purity (96% and counting!).
Faced with this quandry of who to talk to, the story began to reflect on who it was. Then it realized that it had no gender, but it wasn't an it. It then created its own pronoun for its gender, and the pronoun was ilm. Of course, there are the other forms of the pronoun, so ilm decided to also refer to ilmself by stating that objects belonging to ilm were called ilms, where as ilm's was a contraction for ilm is. Now that ilm had that established ilm looked up and saw a pair of elderly women sitting in a booth. They appeared to be enjoying some nice cups of hot apple cider.
The story approached the booth. The ladies sat and enjoyed their apple cider. The story spoke, "do you think you can help me?" But the ladies did not respond. A bit perplexed and really wanting to allow ilmself to grow, the story probed further. "You see, I really need some help. I am a story, unfullfilled in my ultimate destiny and confused of my true path...." But the ladies gave no assistance. They simply sat and enjoyed their apple cider. "Do you not hear me, ladies?" They remained ignorant of ilms presence. And ilm began to wonder, "are the ladies really blind and deaf or do i simply not exist in their world?"
Then suddenly the ladies turned to him and screamed "YOU DO NOT EXIST! YOU DO NOT EXIST! LITTLE MAGGOT WORM BOOK!!!!" And the story suddenly awoke full in sweat to realize that the story was only a dream. The author, the dreamer was the reality. When his nerves calmed down, the author got up and had some breakfast. He finished his food, got ready for work, and left 5 minutes late. Arriving at the office, he saw one of his coworkers, Jan. She looked at him and smiled. She always had the brightest smile. "How's it going," Jan said in her sweet voice. "Uh, not so good," the shy author replied. "I had this horrible dream that I was a story and I was going nowhere. I was placed on a train with a bunch of characters I couldn't interact with. It was Hell." Jan asked carefully, "So your story's not going well. Are you worried about your deadline?" The author was afraid to admit that he was. He had been so successful in the past and was nervous that Jan would think he was not competent. He stared blankly like a dear in headlights. Jan asked if he would like to talk about his story over lunch. "You look like such a dear in those headlights," she said, pointing at the fake breasts he was wearing over his sweater. "Oh," he said, "I must *still* be dreaming!"