The Usual Pattern

Well, I haven't posted in a while, which is a sad thing. But I'm back now, and hope to be so for a while. I'm only on the third sentence of my new post, and I find I'm in the usual pattern. I haven't got anything to say. I had a great, witty idea earlier, but now I can't for the life of me remember what it was. So I'm stuck here having to improvise something. I shall write a little story for your enjoyment(if you don't enjoy that sort of thing just skip down to the bottom for my closing remarks.):

Once upon a time there was a man named Sven. He lived a happy life, save for the fact that for some reason, everyone thought he was Norwegian, when in fact he was actually a native of Madagascar. He often wondered why in the world his parents had named him Sven, but they were dead, so he couldn't ask him. Then one day someone once again asked him if he was from Norway. It set him over the edge. He donned a suit of chain mail, took up a round shield and an axe, and took the bus downtown to plunder something. He saw a promising knick-knack shop across the street, and starting walking toward it. It was at that moment that he was struck by a gold 1998 Chevy Cavalier moving at 31 MPH. Do to the laws of Physics (sum of forces= Mass x acceleration) he was thrown to the street where he bumped his head. He came around in about five minutes, thinking that he was a harpsichord player named George Grickman who lived on a farm in Kokomo, Indiana. This, of course, solved his name problems. Of course he was shortly arrested for carrying a lethal weapon in public, and was eventually put in the Psyche Ward of a teaching hospital in Omaha. But no one ever thought he was Norwegian ever again. The End.

Well, that went downhill. But what can I say, it's my first day back. I'll see you all next time right here. Actually I'll just write to you and imagine you sitting in front of your computers and reading this. That's all.