Endless agony

I would like to write about something serious for a change.
This matter is really important to me, and has kept me awake many a morning.
It's the substance that drives people mad, it's the horrible thing that people flee from, it's...
HAIRSPRAY.
Yes; hairspray.

I lie there sleeping, like an innocent little bee in my bed, dreaming of rainbows and unicorns running in a field of flowers, before I think I smell something. I half-wake up, and start breathing with my mouth instead, and turn over to the other side.
OK. I definitely TASTE something now. Ewww!! What IS that?
I start hiding my face under the quilt/pillow until my lungs are about to explode, so I duck up again for some air.
I regret doing that instantly.
THE SMELL IS OVERWHELMING!
I go berserk.
I open every window in the room,
I fan with my quilt and pillow, franticly, and whatever I can get my hands on.
Naturally while I hold my breath... Wouldn't want to SMELL that crap, now would I...
Anyway, after a while, I stop. I tentatively take a whiff of the air. I really shouldn't have done that.
So I start the frantic waving again, until my arms have grown tired, and I'm blue in the face from not breathing, and I try to smell the air again. Success! You almost cannot smell it any more!
I victoriously go back to my bed, and try to go back to dreamland.... Except... There is an odd smell here..... It's just like..... OH NO!!
The bed is conveniently placed in a corner, with this very convenient wall to block out the sight of my sister sleeping in the other end. Which also blocked out fresh air!
I start some more frantic waving, before I'm not arsed any more, and go victoriously back to sleep.
Then I hear some knocking on the door.. Oh no... nonono... I..
Everything goes black...
I wake up again, and find myself, still in my pyjamas, outside in the garden.
My hands are covered in blood.
I start to panic.
What has happened?
I walk inside, to see a dreadful scene. MY FAMILY!
They are all dead!
There is some writings on the wall saying "I am Hairspray!" I start screaming, trying to wake them up, but alas. No reactions.
They smell awful. Like they have been bathed in Icky. Just like.... HAIRSPRAY.
I start freaking. Screaming like a mad-man. The hairspray... KILLED!
I stand up. Wiping my tears away and walk over to the phone. The police needs to know. The hairspray have killed!
I get them on the line, and tell them exactly what happened.

And, that's the end of that story.
I hope I can raise awareness to the hairspray matter.
That people can understand that hairspray is a real problem.
We face it every day.
Please, people. DON'T use hairspray.
It will kill.
Eventually.

Seriousness

Ooohhh... I's all serious, and stuffs in the last post! :O
We can't have that!

OK: the real story behind it is that Miss Feltin is the worried, but unmarried mother of a kidnapped 5-year-old.
She was, however married, but divorced to the man that kidnapped their child, in exchange for..... hmmmm... Fish?
Yes. Fish.
Because in all reality, they are penguins!
In a zoo!
In London.....
London Zoo, actually!
And they strive to keep their minds stimulated in their boring cages of boringness.
Yes.

This is a true story! ..I think...

The Wizard of Oz

-What did you do? Where is my daughter?
-Your daughter? Miss Feltin, I think you know where your daughter is.
-You can't do this.... It's not faire!
-Faire? Justice, is merely an illusion. You'll see your daughter when we want you to. Good day, Miss Feltin.

Raiding with the L33T crowd.

We fought bravely until the very end.


But those guys were too much for us.
When will justice prevail?

FYI

The last post was a satire about a lonely, depressed, bitter man that never had a girlfriend.
His name is George, and he likes to ski.
He is in his mid- twenties, and likes to drink wine in front of the fireplace while looking deeply into his girlfriends eyes, telling her how beautiful she is...

OK, I'm full of shit :P
Though the last post was a satire. About George. Who's in his mid-twenties. And likes to ski.

And for those who doesn't know what a satire is: WIKIPEDIA
I might not have done it correctly, but I did my best... Or at least as much as I was arsed.