Boys with broken bicycles make me sad

The other day we made our way to WalMart because Henrietta the morbid egg cooker was doing a half-assed job. We took Stewie the irresponsible, day dreaming roommate and managed to pick up Cat, the dilly-dallying, fun having friend on the side of the road. After about 25 minutes, we managed to lose both of them. Stewie was found by the cosmetics wandering around aimlessly. I circled the store several times, passing by insane amounts of people who seemed perplexed as to why I was in such a rush, with no success. We told Stewie to stay put by some sort of pastry by the front doors and split up to find Cat, who had apparently been wandering around looking for us. I hate WalMart and its low, low prices.

This weekend has been filled with wasting time and no work. That makes it very similar to every other week in the past, I suppose.

There has been much talk about writing the last few days, both stories and poems (and music, but I have nothing to say about that). It makes me want to write...But I'm not a very good writer and I am also not particularly original, which does not make for very good writing. Someone convinced me to post something I did write, I wrote it over about a week in the summer during free time at work. It needs serious editing, but here it is. You might notice its resemblance to another text, upon which it is based. Formatting has been fixed (Thanks for posting it IR). And remember that I admitted that I'm a terrible writer and such, so I'm not going to be held accountable for this.