Saturday Night Special

Tonight I bring you:
Random Made Up Lines From Novels That Do Not Exist

1. Life is a funny thing. Not so much funny in an amusing or even ironic way, but more like a sadistic and master-pulling-the-rug-out-from-under-the-pupil manner. One minute you're a vibrant, invincible lad sailing heedlessly through your youthful years. A vast and endless sea of decades and opportunities spread out before you. And then a few teetering moments later, you drag yourself out of a garbage bin and begin the teeth-clenching process of removing used razor blades, defunct syringes, and diverse species of broken glass from your suddenly not-so-Teen-Beat skin.

2. Carpel Tunnel Syndrome Man was back to his old tricks. He had fumbled his way into the entryway, past the morose plant of unknown origin and type which just insisted on lurking there by the door in its depressing little way, and now he had staggered near the pretty young coeds' apartment. The fruitful sounds that pretty young coeds make (when they're not being accosted by lecherous middle-aged men with apparently terminal carpel tunnel) drifted through the cheaply constructed walls and down both directions of the hall.

3. Dandelions. Dandelions upon dandelions. Dandelions begetting entire oceans of dandelion offspring. "Have you ever seen so many dandelions?" asked Shaw. "No. No I have not." Duncan replied. Other than the sun and the timid blue horizon, there were only dandelions to behold. A million dandelion factories operating at 110% capacity over countless day shifts and second shifts and midnight shifts and even super secret double atomic shifts could not produce this many dandelions in a reasonable or even barely sane timespan. Sure, one might point out that dandelion factories would likely have unions, and thus with the presence of such a progress and profit destroying mechanism, the inability to produce the envisioned number of dandelions is not all that surprising. But these theoretical dandelion factories would be union free -- and even then, would not be able to feasibly fill Shaw and Duncan's field of view with the appropriate number of dandelions.

4. "I remember that at some point I had the capacity to give a crap...but that time has passed."

5. The kindly old man seemed harmless enough. He had that grandfatherly air of warmth and gentleness. His attempt at a friendly smile appeared genuine. His thin gold collared shirt with the accidentally stylish short sleeves said that he was still vital enough to not be cold even in mid-summer. His cane said his hips and knees were on the fritz. And his wisps of unkempt gray hair said "at this point, do you think I really give a shit?"

6. "Get outta the car!" The gaping up-close view of a gun barrel filled Dave's vision such that he could no longer really see the car. If he could not see the car, then how could he obey the violently barked command being uttered repeatedly in his direction? "Get outta the car right now or you're dead!" Dave fumbled in the general area of the door handle. The inside rim of the barrel actually had a small silver ring. As Dave's addled brain mused over the craftsmanship of the gun barrel, his ears pulled themselves away from the tvs at their stations and resumed hearing things other than the continued threat of annihilation from the still un-comprehended figure behind the gun. Colleen. Ah yes, her. Her and her shrieking. So overpowering that his ears had simply opted to place those calls on ignore due to the threat of bodily harm coming from the opposite direction.

7. Brisbane stood at the podium, preparing to address the assembled students. Professor Thorndike and Vice-Dean of Student Concerns Westwood sat behind and to his left at a folding table pilfered from the Irish Students Association meeting that happened to be convening at the same time. Next door in the Cutler Building, the officers of the Irish Students Association sat on the floor, gazing up at their gathered brethren in various states of annoyance and confusion. The faculty goons who had taken their table had not even bothered to remove the ISA banner that had been hanging across its front. Nor had they even considered leaving behind the freshly printed information packets and sign-up information sheets that had come at significant out-of-pocket cost to the ISA. And not surprisingly, the faculty goons had also walked off with the ISA's priceless antique 12th century goat-skin map of Ireland which had been placed lovingly in the center of the table for all the members, both old and new, to enjoy. Professor O'Neil had been powerless to stop the faculty goons. As he had watched from the back of the room a thought occurred to him. Over an extended period of time, it was not inconceivable that an accumulation of slights such as this could very well lead to intense feelings of outrage and cultural angst in a specific group of people. He could almost see his beloved students field-stripping fully automatic assault rifles and speaking in the harsh clipped tones of the violently oppressed.

8. Andy's English voice strained and inched into a higher octave over the roar of the engines. "Are you sure you should be driving, Willy?" Willy turned away from the rapidly approaching and passing landscape ahead of the jet and gave Andy a disdainful look of supreme magnitude. "You don't drive a jet, you dumbass! You fly'em!" Andy wilted under Willy's continued Arkansas-ian aggression, as well as his intense whiskey-tinged breath.