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An Email to Remember

I have just sent an email to my friend because texting is for normal people, and I am not normal, so I emailed her anyway. 
At the end of each email, we like to make little jokes and things or make a really long exit. 
However, what you are about to read was what I sent today. Only the ending of course, there is no need to share the whole email with you because that would just be wrong and would loose me a great friend. 
Anyway, here is the ending of the email which I severely dragged on. 
If enough people like it, I may even  make it a thing I continue on with! 
Thanks, bye for now. 
You can go and do something with your life now. 
Only if you want to.
You could just sit and do nothing whilst reading this. 
Though I don’t see the point in that, your brain may explode. 
Why not go and invent the wheel. 
That’s already been invented. 
Hasn’t it? 
Best check that out before you go and do so. 
How about the bicycle that moves itself? 
Surely that hasn’t been invented yet? 
Oh. What’s that Barney? (My Secretary who is really my teddy bear). That’s already been invented? 
Oh. Well what did the inventor of that device name this method of transportation?
The “motor-bike”? 
Just pure geniusness. 
That’s a daft name. 
I would have called mines something much better. 
That’s simple enough. Isn’t it? 
Don’t tell me that has already been invented? 
Good. I was scared there. 
Who in their right mind would call something a daft name like that. 
Especially to name such a break-through of an invention? 
I’ve had enough of this whole invention thing anyway.
Why did I even begin to talk about inventions? 
I’m an oompa loompa for goodness sake! 
Mr Wonka Will not be happy with me. 
I’m going to play piano. 
I just remembered. 
I don’t have a piano. 
Actually, come to think of it, 
I don’t know how to play piano!
Never mind, I don’t want to go into that all over again. 
That’s the microbubbleguitar. 
A new invention of mines. 
So I am an inventor! 
The microbubbleguitar. 
Such a genius name. 
Shame I never came up with it. 
That was Steven’s idea. 
The name that is. 
I came up with the invention. 
In fact, it is the device I am using right now. 
The microbubbleguitar. 
The most advanced piece of equipment in this cupboard. 
A technological breakthrough if you ask me. 
It sits nicely on my fat, chubby lap. 
It has a screen as well, with lots of colours shining on my face!
It has around five billion and sixty four keys.
Actually, that may have been an exaggeration…
It has keys with the letters of the alphabet all scattered around.  
I also came up with a device that can connect to my microbubbleguitar. 
I call it a “squirrel”. 
I went into Mr Wonka’s garden and killed a squirrel. Or two. Or three hundred and fifty seven to be precise. 
Experimental purposes you see. 
I inserted a piece of rubber wire into the squirrel’s…
Barney (my secretary who is really just my teddy bear as I mentioned before) , why are you reading what I am writing? 
But you may still sleep with me tonight. 
Stupid bear. 
Says that someone has already invented the microbubbleguitar. 
Called it the “lap-top”. 
Stupid name. 
Why on earth did I mention this. 
I fear my brain is about to explode if I keep talking of inventions. 
Let’s change the subject. 
I already did that. 
Didn’t I? 
Yes, I think I did. 
Heads or tales?
What was that? 
Doesn’t matter anyway, don’t know the rest of the joke. 
I just heard it whilst shopping for Mrs Oompa Loompa. 
Gets confusing. 
Our wives that is. 
Every Oompa Loompa is basically just called Oompa Loompa. 
Apart from Steven who is called Michael. 
And as for our wives…
Don’t get me started…
Every Oompa Loompa’s wife (including Steve who is called Michael) is called Mrs Oompa Loompa. 
A pain in the orange backside if you ask me. 
Can really get a fight started down at the Oompa pub or in that new fancy restaurant down the road… “Chez Loompa”.
Or something like that. 
It’s the only Restaurant around. 
But every Oompa Loompa loves their Mrs. 
Take last night for example, I was  uiwh iwuhdihdqwku duqgd. 
A strand of my green hair somehow got into my mouth. 
Where was I? 
Let’s start a new topic. 
Actually, let’s not.
There’s a new “tab-bubble” open in my microbubbleguitar “browser-bubble”. 
What does that say? 
Stare into screen and you will be hypnotized.
Say what? 
There’s more. 
During hypnotization, you will fall asleep.  
Never in my life have I heard such stupid words. 
Worth a try though. 
I suppose. 
Here I go. 
Still nothing. 
Actually, better not yawn, I may activate my self destruct lobe. 
Still nothing…
Heeyyyy I finky vis tis yurking!
*blows raspberry*
*goes into a trance* 
I will buy a sofa from ABC Furniture limited for only five hundred and nintey nine pounds. 
Interest free. 
I will tell all of my friends of this business. 
I will jump out of my window in three seconds. 
I will now jump out of window. 
If you enjoyed what you just read, give it a like and a comment if you wish so that I will know whether to continue my little friend’s adventure. Otherwise, I will be forced to put him down. 
No silly. I mean literally put him down, he’s clinging on to my shoulders! I need to put him down before he rips my clothes! I would never kill a fellow alien!


The word, “Jag” which will be used a lot in this post, refers to the word, “injection”. It’s just a Scottish and possibly British way of talking about the painful method of medication.

Today in what you may know as “school”, I wet my pants even more than usual.

To my shock, whilst in English, a messenger came to my class, and told everyone to head to, lets just say, “A Room”, to receive jags. It was then that I clicked on that today was immunisation/booster/pain day, and I remembered filling a form out a few weeks ago.

English: This 2006 image depicted an adolescen...

Image via Wikipedia

Up until today, it had been roughly ten years since I last had a jag, so I was pretty calm about it, but when I got to”The Room” I was more nervous than that time I climbed through a wheelie bin. For some reason, I had just turned hysterical and couldn’t control myself.

But luckily enough, the woman who was dealing with me for this particular booster, couldn’t have been nicer, and distracted me rather cunningly from the hardly painful nip of the jag. I now love and respect that woman.

And afterwards, everything was fine. However, now, several hours after the jag, my arm feels like it has been punched on the same spot for months and months. And doing fitness in P.E (Physical Education) didn’t really help at all.

So I just wanted to rant about my pain for today. And I really am not looking forward to taking the plaster off tonight, as I am certain that this will cause great pain.

So, thank you for wasting a few minutes of your life that you will never get back, on me. You will return in the afterlife as something nice, like a unicorn, or a toad. Or a sausage role.


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