SKIRMISHER

Computers were meant to make life easier for the average homo sapiens. The fiction below is autogenerated by a computer. Even the lazy can make masterpiece prose, though the verdict is still out whether it really makes sense nor matters at all.
That sweltering afternoon day I opened the trunk my grandmother forbade me to open. Inside were a pair of leather bottomed shoes, a cap, and an empty canvas bag.

One man stumbled towards me as if under a drunken afternoon spell. His mouth hung open, saliva pouring down. When he came beside me he spat into both my eyes and I screamed, falling to the grass beneath my feet. I saw black and smelled drool and could not open my eyes.

The girl knelt down at my feet, pressing her furry costume against my skin. “Please help me,” she said, and kissed one foot. She kissed the other. And when I looked down I found both the leather-bottomed shoes gone and bare toes remaining. They froze in the mountain wind. At my feet a white wolf with childlike eyes stared up at me, grinned, and ran off with two shoes in her jaws.

While I stood and shook I prayed for the knowledge to come and fill that part of my head that knew and understood nothing of this world.

Forms circulated around my body on all sides and I could no longer breathe. Lungs tight and waist constricted I watched as my skin turned into the color of soil. I could no longer distinguish my body from the mountain’s.

When I reached a house I knocked to ask for a cup of water to cool my senses. The lady, upon seeing my shoes, let me in.

Before I could tell my mother anything the boys spoke for me. “We’ve found father,” they cried. She burst into tears and hugged them both, ignoring my stinking presence.

“If you are my son then where are your father’s leather bottomed shoes and ring?”

My lying brothers cried when they were forced to walk on the ground without their leather bottomed shoes. I watched as they, like my father had once, were swallowed by the ground and mouths hungry for stinking flesh.

Were you amused by this prose? You can also generate your own by visiting this Fairy Tale Generator and start composing one. This sure reminds me of Gulliver’s Travels where he met the projectors on the floating isle of Laputa, one of them invented a machine that churns out literary… you decide by the article above whether it be crap.

Stumble it!