Archie’s morning was always the same. It’s not that his life was regimented; it’s just that anything prior to nine in the morning, roughly the time when he awoke from his post-rising stupor, was done by rote. He would get out of bed; get partially dressed; turn on the coffee machine; feed the cat; check the news on his laptop; pour the coffee; put on some toast; and begin to have breakfast.
While he was eating his toast, always with raspberry jam, he would read the blogs he followed. There was one blogger who annoyed the hell out of him. The blogger was always killing people off. Every day it would be another story and another dead person. Sometimes death by poisoning, sometimes strangulation. Why couldn’t he write a happy story for a change? Nonetheless, Archie couldn’t help but sneak a peek every morning as he ate his toast. Possibly Archie, every morning, was hoping for something happy to happen in one of the stories. And would you believe…?
This day was sheer happiness! Freddy had fallen in love with Leonie at the school picnic. They were teachers at the school, not pupils. They had dated for several months and then Freddy proposed to Leonie. It was quite out of the blue.
“Yes! Yes!” said Leonie, beside herself with gladness. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” They kissed! They planned their wedding day! Oh happy day! Oh happy, happy day!
Archie, having breakfast, was beside himself with excitement. A cheerful story! For once something jubilant happens in this blog he followed daily! Oh happy day! Oh happy day indeed! To celebrate, Archie took a great big bite of the slice of toast he was eating.
He choked on it, and now he’s dead.
You have left us all speechless, it seems. That’s quite an accomplishment.
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Thank you. I should get paid to have shut people up! I have decided that this is one of my favourite stories.
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A story within a story…you can’t beat it…but you can kill it.
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This is one of my favourite all-time stories!
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I have to agree with you.
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I follow a blog just like that! Except I’m usually a little disappointed if there’s no dead body. Fortunately, it’s rare.
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I wonder if I follow the same blog.
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I felt like I was reading about myself until I read he ate toast. I don’t eat toast anymore. What a relief. Cool story Bruce.
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Thanks. I live on toast – except when I forget to make a loaf the evening before!
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So you make your own bread and wine and grow your own vegetables. Now that’s something. We eat Arepas over here for breaky.
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Arepas look like a cross between pikelets and naan!
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Yes, they look like that. They don’t taste like Pikelets and I don’t know what Naan tastes like. Arepas typically have a crunchy corn flavour. But I’m currently preparing an arepa made of yucca.
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!! Naan is that Indian (subcontinental) bread that sort of opens into a pocket.
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I got so much schadenfreude from this. Knowing that he was going to die, and that he didn’t see it coming. Thanks for dying a meaningful death that brought happiness kiddo!
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I’m delighted to have helped to schadenfreudicate your world.
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I’m glad I wasn’t eating toast when I read this. I probably would have choked.
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To prove the point I am not Archie (now deceased), I post my reply herewith.
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You have been missed of course. But your appearance is possible proof that you’re not as yet dead.
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You bet!
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I hope your absence means good things are happening.
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Trust me, that’s true.
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😀 😀 This is probably the closest to an autobiography we’ll get.
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You read me like a book.
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This story boggled on several different levels, but the take away from me is not to eat my breakfast toast while reading your blog!
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It’s ok to eat toast while reading my blog – just don’t use raspberry jam!
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