Me Are The Champion

I would like to thank me, for being a crushing, insufferable bore.  My friends, for not killing me so I could live out the inspiration for this massive tome of shit. Apple Macintosh for inventing copy and paste.  The state bar of Kerplekistan for not caring if, technically speaking, I, uh, changed the conditions of the test.*The good news for everyone else:  The winner banners don’t appear on my computer so I can’t use them.  Even better, you do not have to read any of my 66,390 words.
Only about a thousand belong to somebody else.  The rest are mine. The rules said I could outline ahead of time.  It just so happened that about 60,000 words were the outline.  But I was busy.  And there was football, and there was that one morning after the night before, and the stalker chick  who wouldn’t go away until I said “go away,” and the days and days of celebrating the fact that there was no confluence between the stalker chick and the “morning after the night before.” And shit.

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