What title?

I’m looking at this blank space right now. And it’s blank. Strange, the blankness is nothing, yet it has potential for anything. If you show people a plain blank screen, and tell them to wait, because something REALLY COOL will show on it in a few minutes, then hook cameras up to their MINDS (Somehow. Apple will invent this sooner or later.), that footage will make up the awesomest action movie ever, probably something to do with a lowly janitor, who accidentally finds a ticket to a Rolling Stones concert, where he gets hit by a meteor being piloted by that chick from Voltes V while she’s having sex with- and I won’t continue because dammit, this is NOT WHERE YOU GO TO FULFILL YOUR WEIRD SEX FANTASIES, YOU SICK, SICK PERSON. But mostly because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop with any sort of degree of completion with regards to the aforementioned action movie.

But this page isn’t blank anymore, is it? It hasn’t been blank since I typed that first ‘I’. And if those people who had been shown the blank screen earlier had seen me type just that I, so many possibilities are immediately canceled. Yet so many are created. with just the letter I up there, it could go on to form a descriptive statement about myself, or to the observers “The Loony Who’s Typing”, like “I like to have eggs for breakfast.” or “I haven’t had breakfast in seventeen years.” or “I am writing a story about a janitor at a Rolling Stones concert.” Or it could be something about a girl named Irene. Or a guy named Ira. Or it could be a question like “Isn’t life grand?” or “Isn’t this annoying?”. Or it could be the beginning of an extremely detailed ASCII of a racoon. OR, it could just be an unrelated letter, and the screen would just go on to load a picture of Stefanie Kloß having EXTREMELY hot sex with- and I won’t continue because DAMMIT, this paragraph is already too long.

Yet again however (I’m not sure of the grammatical accuracy of that particular combination of those words, but it sounds fancy so I’ll leave it that way), this is no longer just the letter ‘I’ and white background. In fact, as of right -now-, it is 406 words of… whatever you call this. Now, let’s go back to the people. If they saw me type everything until this point, they would have seen quite a few embarrassing spelling errors (yay for spellcheck), and would have a pretty good idea what this is about. Their minds are wondering less and less, but again. More possibilities open up. Maybe it’s going on to say that blankness is possibly the greatest story you can ever tell, since whoever sees it will overlay the most awesome thing they can come up with, which appeals to them on most most personal level possible level since THEY made it for just them. Or maybe it will talk about how “having the reader come up with his own ending” is one of the laziest and most clever tricks in all of writing. Or maybe something about how from one tiny little thing, something can burst forth like an unwanted alien hatchling and evolve in front of out very eyes, like a point slowly being elaborated and built upon, or a very finely crafted story. Or maybe the entire thing will derail, and turn into a very detailed erotic story about a very attractive young lady, who needs to pay the rent but has no money, and ends up having sex with- and I won’t continue because I have to go on to my next thing.

See? When I stopped at “having sex with” your mind wandered to one of a billion different possibilities. Each one somebody’s hottest fantasy and another’s worst nightmare. Hey, we all have different tastes. Now, I could have ended those sentences with just a single name (or general description, w/e), but then that would have made some people very happy, and others not so much. This way, everybody can fill it in with whatever they want, and everybody can walk away happy. Which IS in fact, what she said. Now, I want you all to enjoy this, having read so much so just… make up your own ending.

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