Heres the thing; I am a kickas writer. I dont expect anyone to read this, but, I wrote an awesome story.Well ,the beggining of it. I really dont know where its going. Just, if you see this, read it. Its pretty good, I think.

Insanity
On one particularly sunny Sunday afternoon, MR. Jones found himself sitting inside a dark, cold room. Mr. Jones, tried to evaluate his surroundings, but found that it was too dark to see anything but the man with the clown mask standing in front of him. Mr. Jones was a little taken back. "Who the hell are you?" He asked, trying to sound brave, but couldn't help but be a little frightened by the situation. "Mr Jones, you failed to send payment on time." Mr. Jones struggled to get up, only to be held down by this new sensation of ropes holding him to the chair he found himself sitting in on this particularly sunny Sunday afternoon. "Wa-What payment? Where am I?" Mr. Jones was no longer trying to hold back the fear in his voice. He was shaking a little. The man in the clown mask giggled. "Oh, you now very well which payment Mr. Jones," The clown man the proceeded to shake a case of pills in front of Mr. Jones face. Mr. Jones gulped. "Im sa-sorry man. I just couldn't get the money together. I had to buy food man! Please" The clown man giggled again. "Oh its quiete alright Mr. Jones, Im not a greedy man. You take all the time you need. Although, I'm sure by now you have guessed that theres a reason your strapped to a chair right now in a dark, mysterious room hmm? Well, I do need that money, and I think I may need to give you some, eh, how do you say? Inspiration?" Mr. Jones was shaking up storm now!"what the hell are you gonna do to me!? I'm only down like two hundr-" Mr. Jones voice was muffled out by the duct tape that had been abrubtly stuck to his face, courtesy of the clown man. "Now, now, MR. Jones, Im not going to hurt you. Im just going to give you something." The clown man walked into the darkness, out of Mr. Jones sight. Mr. Jones constantly shook, screaming under his duct tape cage. When the clown returned, he held in his hands earphones. Mr. Jones froze. "Mr. Jones, would you by any chance know what a Health Fairy, is?" Mr. Jones stayed frozen. Slowly he nodded. "Ah, excellent. Then I don't have to explain what this is?" Said the clown, motioning to the oversized earphones. "Well, this procedure will only take two hours, and at the end, why, you'll have a new friend Mr. Jones!" Mr. Jones screamed and screamed and shook and shook, but it didn't stop Clown from duct taping those big old earphones to his skull. "See you in two hours Mr. Jones!" Clown walked out of sight. Within five seconds, Mr. Jones was still. MR. Jones stayed still for quite a while, until about halfway in he began to twitch a little. Hs fingers started to wiggle around, and beads of sweat ran down his face. Slowly his hair began to raise, a if touched by static electricity. His eyes reddened, and every one in a while, blood would trickle out of them, just little droplets. Yes, Mr. Jones was in quite a pickle!
Health Fairy:
In 2034, the great UN captured the VIP of a terrorist army, and were very excited to question him. He held information that was invaluable to the defeat of the terrorist threat, but unfortunately, his skull had been lined with chroneum*. So unable to useEMR, they had to use the archaic method of 'Interrogation'. But, no matter what they tried, they could not get the information out of him. You see, he had a heart condition, so the methods they used could not be to extreme., or they might lose him. Dunking, blunt weapon torture, and any other physical methods were out. They turned to mental methods. The thing about mental torture though, is that its often bogus and inpractical and very costly. So nothing worked with that either. They turned to the greatyest psychological minds of their time to coe up with a mental tortue method that would not damage his heart, but would cause him immense pain. One dark, stormy night, it happened. They developed something so cruel, so horrible, it could not even be named without undermining its power. They gave the Commander in Chief a pair of big, black headphones, nd told them to put it on the victims head for no more than two hours. The VIP gave up in 30 minutes. When the psychologists were asked how they did it, they said that it causes a person to, "...have a new friend...". They said nothing further. The name, Health Fairy, cae from what the VIP screamed again and again during the 30 minutes. "SHUTUP HEALTH FAIRY!" Those words will always be mystery.
*chroneum, a metal that is often meded into individual's skulls who carry valuable information. It makes EMR impossible. It was developed from combining various metals, and there are rumuors that moon rock is in that concuction. But that's just silly.
**EMR, Electric Mind Reading. Developed by humanitarians to stop torture in the year 2020, same year that death row was banned.
MR. Jones awoke to find himself lying on a hard, wooden surface. The ounds of people and cars hovered about him, and he felt warm air grasping his skin. Much to his joyful surprise, there was no duct tape anywhere on his body, and no clowns stairing down at him. There was, however, a book lying on his chest. upon seeing this he also saw that he was lying on a park bench, and was in fact, in a park on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Mr. Jones sat up,m and lifted up the book from his chest. "Selected Poetry and Prose of; Edgar Allen Poe". Mr. Jones was a little startled, gain. He opened it up. "The Raven" he began to read. Around hi children laughed and yelled and cried, grown ups shared wonderful conversation. But in Mr. Jones's mind, a man sat scared and paranoid in his chamber. Nevermore. "Oh, that's one of my favorite stories." Said the voice of a young girl, who must have been standing behind Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones simply said, "Uhuh", too inthralled in the story to check behind to se who was there.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
He felt the breath of the little girl behind him on his neck. Kids, he thought. So curious. He continued reading.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
"Oh I don't like that part!" Said the little girl. "Hes so scared, but keeps telling himself its nothing!" "Uhuh", said MR. Jones, hardly noticing the little girl knew the exact spot that he was reading.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
"You know, if I relate with one of the characters in that story, I think it would be the raven." Mr. Jones stopped reading. He began to say, "Now why on earth would you relate to that?" But as he turned he found that there was no one there. He quickly looked at all sides, no one. Save the people walking and playing, but none of them were close to him. "Huh." He decided it was nothing, and kept reading. "She probably just ran off to her mother. In fact, I could have sworn I heard someone call for a 'Cindy' right before she left. Yes, that's it. No big deal" He forgot about the matter and kept reading.
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'
"You see, the Raven is there, but he's really not there. The man thinks the Raven is some messenger from hell, but in actuality, its jut a bird. So in a sense, the Raven is in the mans head. That's how I relate to the Raven." Mr. Jones quickly looked side to side, behind, even up. No little girl. "Who said that?" He stood up, looked under the bench. He heard a cute little giggle from behind him. "See told you!" Noone was there. "Who the hell said that!?" Now people were stairing at him. No one screams in anger on a sunny, Sunday afternoon. But, they continued with what they were doing. Just a crazy man. "You shouldn't be so loud mister, these nice people are trying to have a nice day." Mr. Jones said in an angry, hushed voice, "Who the hell are you?" More insane giggling. Mr. Jones shook in anger and frustration. "Why Mr. Jones, I'm your very own health fairy!"

Oh, and please dont be an asshole and copy this and say you wrote it. THeres probably nothign I would be able to do about that, but still. Just dont be an asshole.