UPDATE: Proof that I'm Still Writing

Woah, whaaaaat? Three weeks without a new story? And back-to-back update posts? You can't be serious.

Oh, but unfortunately, I am, dear readers. I am really, really sorry about how long this stories post is taking. I didn't anticipate it to be so much work. Even though it's similar to my names story, it's actually a thousand times harder because I actually have to conceptualize each story, as opposed to "(Your Name Here)," where I could base stories off memories.

Plus, I'm now a Junior in high school, which has certainly added to my workload and I've been getting involved with the San Diego Film Festival, so my free time is very rapidly diminishing. I only have two or three hours a day to work on stories, so I'm only finishing two, maybe three stories a day at max, which is HORRIBLE.

I really do feel bad for taking this long to write a story, so as a sort of consolation, here's a sneak preview of one of the stories in "(Untitled)." One of my favorites.





Oscar

"And the Oscar for 'Best Written Non-Sexualized Supporting Actress Personality' goes to..." Justin Timberlake panted into the microphone. Andy nervously bounced in his seat. He was one of two nominees and he was sweating from anxiety. Was he about to win his first Oscar?

Justin Timberlake tore open the envelope. "Oh god..." he said under his breath. "Andy Wasillakowski!" Timberlake said unenthusiastically.

"HELL YEAH!" Andy screamed as he stood up. Nobody around him clapped. He faced Kenny (the other nominee), made a circle with his index and thumb, brought the shape down to his groin, and humped it repeatedly. "SUCK MY DICK, KENNY. EAT SHIT," he screamed. Kenny, who was only seven years old, started sobbing.

Because the Oscars were live, the entirety of America saw and heard what Andy said. But Andy didn't care. He wanted to relish in his fame.

He sprinted down the steps toward the stage, slapping the back of James Franco's head on his way, sending James Franco's toupée flying into the people who sat in front of him. James Franco, who was only seven years old mentally, also started sobbing.

Andy stepped foot on the stage and snatched the microphone out of Justin Timberlake's hands. "WOOOOOOOOO!" He screamed into the mic. He tapped it a few times with the palm of his hand, saying "Is... is this on?" as he did so. The crowd in front of him nodded in displeasure.

He cleared his throat. "About time I've started getting recognized for my work. I knew from the start that I would win this because my movie's awesome, and Kenny sucks balls and should kill himself." In a distant corner of the venue, Kenny's wails could be heard.

"So, since I knew I was gonna win, I decided to write out exactly what I needed to say in thirty or so seconds on this here piece of paper." He pulled out a piece of lined paper from his inner jacket pocket, then cleared his throat again.

"Thanks a bunch to that nerdy old Liam McClencherton, AKA Stinky Pits, for letting me cheat off his tests in film school and for being a good sport about all the nutshots and the Sharpie tattoos drawn on his face while he slept, and the superglue on his pubes. Thanks a bunch, Liam!" The crowd was appalled, except for Seth MacFarlane, who burst a blood vessel from laughing.

"Mom, dad, thanks for giving me money for film school, even though I dropped out Sophomore year and used the rest of my tuition money to support my heroin addiction. No thanks to Maria Masterston, who refused to go with me to prom. I hope nobody finds out you have every STD known to mankind-I mean, oops!" he said sarcastically. At this point, the entire crowd wanted Andy dead. Gary Oldman actually whipped out his pistol and aimed it at Andy, but Christopher Nolan stopped him at the last minute.

"Jordan, you still owe me five bucks, you two-faced bastard. Nicole, I think this Oscar right here is plenty enough reason to dump your scumbag boyfriend and come have sex with me." At this point, Nolan regretted saving him and gave the gun back to Gary Oldman. However, it was in vain, as Gary Oldman had already fainted from Andy's rudeness. Thankfully, Andy only had ten seconds of speech left to give.

Andy's mouth went to maximum overdrive. "9/11 was an inside job, Hitler did nothing wrong, I think the civil rights movement was a mistake, women should be viewed as objects, I occasionally steal from charity collection boxes, eugenics is a wonderful idea. Good night, everyone!"

Everyone was furious. Several gunshots were fired at Andy, but Andy dodged all of their bullets and tap danced off-stage. He used his Oscar as a pretend cane and his tap dance shoes made an obnoxious "click clack" noise as he went behind the curtains and disappeared. The uproar of the crowd drowned out the lovely orchestral music they play at the end of every speech.

Andy quickly ran out of the venue and dove into the taxicab waiting for him outside. He took off the realistic, Mission-Impossible-style rubber mask on his face and revealed his true identity as Matt, the guy that Andy pissed off in 5th grade.

Matt cackled as he looked at the mask in his hands. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, Andy. Hope stealing my crayons was worth PUBLIC HUMILIATION!"

Matt drove away, throwing the mask out of the cab's window.