Random story in my notebook

Hey, how's it going for you? Want to hear a story?
Maybe we can do something for you.
Here is a story about a man who wanted nothing more than to be invited to a party but he couldn't read his watch. His watch took too long at selective moments. It was hard for him to defend his technological impairment because it made no difference to him or anyone if he showed up at all. Now, sometimes people fear that they can never leave a party in this world. A surrealist cracks into being, and the new world is an interesting one.. one where something captivates the attention. A drunk woman on the floor, a man in mid air, a girl that tries to kiss everyone.
I suppose the closest thing to teleportation that we have is a sudden paradigm shift. The mind is a powerfully weak thing. How much of a mind do we have? I watch a solid spin until it seemed to disappear and I am missing out on so much that is just faster than I care to observe. How hard can I see? How far? How do I know that colors even mean the same thing to other people?

Story idea: The pickle finds a sandwich in the trash. Together they create a new type of salad. A man is inspired by the friendship and opens a business. He names it Pumper Pickle and he makes millions upon millions but doesn't sleep anymore and has a rare toenail disease that forces him to kick things that are the colour green. His teeth are gorgeous though. He lives a second life as a party model in Alabama where he meets his girlfriend Sue who gives birth to a daughter named Buck. One day, Sue's boyfriend dies which causes much pain and Buck investigates the mysterious happening and discovers his main stream of life as a salad inventor. No one had ever researched salad to the same degree as Sue's late boyfriend. He was truly a top troll on the salad forums. Salad fingers, salad toes. He accepted his salary in salad, his daily salad.

"But we never ate salad together!!" Buck howled into the heaps of garbage with a gurgle of pain and betrayal.
Buck grew up to be a bio artist, and she was the first to clone a sheep cube. Of course, the cube has since been dismissed as "kitsch" and her Nobel prize worthy research had gone totally under appreciated. Her next big work was a 10 headed slug which made many appearances in pop and "rad" music videos from 2017- 2021. Finally she attempted to conduct conscious beings from polygonal structures. It is well known that a perfect polygon could never have consciousness, consciousness being the ultimate in asymmetrical reasoning. Perception shifting, she created a monster. Her creation went on a rampage, destroying all that can and has existed.So came total disillusionment, flowing down from the high mountains. The monster attempted to dream, and he dreamt for real. He became immune to diseases by listening to music and ran in circles and it was awkward because he had to say bye twice.
We are a catastrophic mutation, we believe in civilization but we will never understand.
Buck was rich, but the Pumper Pickle legacy of salad perfection was something that she could never equate to.
Her research on consciousness led to a thesis that reasoned suicide being the most intelligent thing for monsters of symmetry, like us. Many have awaited a meaningful support of suicide, but none had expected life to feel sweeter in stark contrast.
How dumb to be happy. Maybe we can all just rest a bit and agree that intelligence is a farce. What is an illuminating signal and what isn't? The story of the children that raised themselves.
On peanut butter.
And chocolate.
Stay tunes to next days episode of "hey how's it going for you?"
Fine fine, very well. May it all make sense eventually.

This story was written in 2017 while I was waiting for a flight. Under the story a scribble reads:

RE: Porter
Porter! Such a cool airline. Simple design: Death

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