Please go here.
But since I know half of you are too lazy to go there, I'll give you the introduction to my novel. Just because I like to show it off. ^.^
Once upon at time there was a potato.
Ok, joking, there wasn't. Well, there was, but it is only minorly important. See, this potato was planted in Ireland, a long time ago, when the druids still ruled the land and guys didn't wear underwear. It started as an eye- one of those little poky things that come off of full- grown potatoes- and slowly put out tendrils and burrowed its way far into the soil.
But then, as it went one more inch into the soft black dirt, something happened.
If the potato had a stomach, it would have felt it lift in that uncomfortable feeling one gets when one is dropping a large distance at a fast pace. Instead, because it didn't have a stomach, it just felt emptiness for a while, and then a soft breeze. It wasn't in the ground anymore, but it was lying on something hard- so it slowly reached out its network of tendrils and began to burrow again, undaunted by its previous episode.
It was, after all, a potato, and potatoes aren't daunted half as easily as people.
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