This Is The Title

This Is The Title (part 1)

"...so yeah, anyway, that's how I ended up with an encyclopedia and seven cans of soup." It said before taking a sip of what appeared to be tea from a small mug on the table infront of It. "I had soup for like a week straight aft- OH SHIT!" It exclaimed, "You're here already." It said staring at you in a way that made your already uncomfortable armchair grow and wrap around your periferal vision like falling into a claustraphobic leather abyss. "Guess I'd better get started with the story then!

Once upon a time uh... no no, that's a boring way to start, let me start over. Exactly four years ago, or was it eight? It was definitely an even number...I think....Okay, you know what? Some time ago, maybe four years, maybe eight, maybe it was fucking ninety three and a half, but some time in the past there was a person who died. Now this was no ordinary death, oh no no no no no, this was quite the peculiar event! For you see, this was the death of Francis Trogg.

Francis was just like any other human, two legs, some hair, at least one eye, and a brain for which he used to think about many a thought. One particular thought that crossed his mind one day, got him in quite the fluster. Why should such a thought distress Francis this much on a windy Tuesday morning? Well I'm no mind reader so I have no idea, but from the mumbling and muttering he did while pacing back and forth it seems like it had something to do with a cat. Francis did not own a cat.

"Hello Francis!" The cheery voice rang from across the room. Francis looked up to see a huge gleaming smile staring back at him.
"Oh hey Melanie, what brings you here?"

"Do I need an excuse to come over and visit my Husband?" She said while skipping over and planting a kiss on the side of his face.

"I suppose not." Replied Francis, "I'm not your husband though, I'm just borrowing his face."

"Yeah i know YOU aren't, but he is." She said while poking her finger in his face.

"Do you own a cat?" Francis asked glumly. Melanie shook her head. He left for home.

Chapter Two.

Francis stared longingly into a nearby wall. He did not know why he was looking at the wall, all he knew was that it was captivating and had stolen his full attention. Did he want to be a brick in the wall, needed, supported and dependable? Did he want to just sit on this park bench and let his mind wander, escaping the responsibilities of life? Or was it that there was a huge graffiti penis painted on this wall in extreme detail and penises are funny? Honestly who can say, he could be there for any number of reasons, but sat on a bench, staring deep into a wall he was.

SUDDENLY, a very sudden unexpected surprise occurred without warning. To Francis' shock, a black fluffy cat walked along the top of the wall and oinked at him.

"Did that cat just oink?" He wondered aloud to himself. "No." Replied the cat in a deep gruff voice. "I'm a pig actually."

"O-oh, sorry." Apologized Francis, envious of the attractive burly voice of the black fluffy pig before him.

"Would you uh, like to go on a date sometime?" Francis asked nervously. The pig that looks almost exactly like a cat, apart from the fact it is in actuality, a pig, jumped behind the wall out of view. "Well I guess he was out of my league anyway." The saddened man now muttered to himself as he continued his slow walk back home.

Chapter 3

A house stood before him, tall and brick-y. This was where Francis lived. He knew this was his house because it contained all his stuff, and in case he were to ever forget he also wrote his name on the front in Sanskrit. At least he hoped that is what he had written for Francis can't read Sanskrit.

Approaching the front door Francis noticed that his home looked very much like a house, this made sense he thought, seeing as it was indeed a house. All this cat malarkey of the day had made him rather peckish so Francis decided to make himself a sandwitch. He walked into his back garden, sat in the sandpit, and sculpted a witch from the fine blonde grains. This didn't stop Francis being hungry, so he left again in search of the local shop.