I am bored, and I didn't really do all that much today that's worth putting in a blog, so I'm going to free write a story and post that. I hope you enjoy!
Far away, on the steep rocky cliffs of Whotheheckcares, there sat an old rickety hut, worn by the elements that had crashed against it throughout the years. There was only one occupant of that weatherbeaten shack, one Felix W. Mumford. Mr. Mumford was a retired attorney at law; he had practiced for a good many years, let's say about 40 or so, so that you have a number in your head. But he wasn't a very good lawyer, as the fact that he lived in such a worn-down hut might suggest. In fact, he was known throughout Whotheheckcares as the worst lawyer for miles around. One time, he was in charge of defending a man accused of stealing his neighbor's horse. Mr. Mumford's client had documentation that he was not home on the day the crime occurred, that in fact he was out of town on business for ten days prior to the crime and ten days after. Still, the man was somehow found guilty, thanks to Mr. Mumford's unabashed histronics while examining the man; Mumford essentially badgered the man into admitting the crime by reminding him of an unfortunate incident from his childhood in which the man was dragged through town by a runaway stagecoach, only to result in a horrific crash in which the mayor's wife's cousin's dog's breeder's sister was killed. A mail sack fell on her head and squished it. When Mr. Mumford reminded the man of this unfortunate accident, he admitted stealing the horse, even though (as was stated before) it would have been impossible for him to have stolen the horse. What's more, to add insult to injury, the jury was so irate to learn of the man's involvement in the unfortunate death of that woman all those years ago, they sentenced him to death, and the judge threw him into the ocean to sleep with the fishes. Mr. Mumford was quite proud of himself for the services he provided to Whotheheckcares, because he in fact didn't care much for the man he had essentially just goaded to death. People began to talk, however, and Mr. Mumford soon chose to retire, on account of the fact that nobody would ask him to represent them in court.
Mr. Mumford had been married once before, to a beautiful girl named Florida. They had three beautiful children: Francis, Frances, and Frauncies. But people soon began to make fun of the family, what with Mr. Mumford being a terrible lawyer (and this was years before the aforementioned case), Florida being the name of a state and not of a person, and the three little Mumfords all having near-identical names. It soon became too much for Florida, and so she left Mr. Mumford, taking Francis, Frances, and Frauncies with her. She never attempted to contact him again, as she took a job with the Boeing Corporation, developing a jet engine, and was set for life.
So Mr. Mumford grew old all by himself in that house on the cliffs. And he was quite upset with his life, because nobody seemed to appreciate him at all. But one day an inspiration hit him. He would build himself a boat, and sail away from Whotheheckcares, away from the people who hated him and Florida who had shunned him, and to a new place where a man of his talents and genius would be appreciated. There was a forest not far from Mr. Mumford's house, and so he set about building a sailboat. It took him three months, but he finally did it. And what a beautiful craft she was. He named her New Florida, because he intended to spend time with her and be happy with her, as Florida had been there for him all those years ago.
Finally, Mr. Mumford decided it was time for him to go. He packed all his possessions into his boat and bid farewell to that dismal house he had lived in for all those years. Then he got into the boat and pushed off towards the ocean.
But Mr. Mumford forgot that he lived on a cliff, and that he had built his boat on the cliff, and so when he pushed New Florida off towards the ocean, he pushed her off the cliffs and onto the rocks below. There was a horrendous crash.
I regret to inform you that Felix W. Mumford, retired attorney at law, died in a boating accident, after his boat fell 200 feet from the cliffs of Whotheheckcares onto the rocks below. But there is a moral to be found in his story. If you're ever building a boat, make sure you build it in a place you can safely launch it from.
Well, that was my story. I admit, it's rather bad and rather random, but I was just freewriting, and I do have class in the morning, so I wasn't expecting to write the next Oliver Twist or anything. You might be thinking I'm disturbed and morbid, and this story probably makes me look disturbed and morbid. But please remember, I have thoughts too, you know.
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