The object of this thread is to continue the story, but post in the most awful, awesome way you can. Try to keep this not super vulgar... The point is to do write this with all the style and panache of someone trying really, really hard to write a good story, but fails grasps the basic fundamentals of storytelling.

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It was a night as dark as only the night can be, with blackness blanketing the streets like a downey quilt made of feathery down. He stood on the corner, looking remarkably like a prostitute in a trench coat, puffing his cigarette like it was a rescue inhaler. Then he pulled out his rescue inhaler and puffed on that for a while, like it was his cigarette. The man who stood on the corner, was a man of many, many talents, the least of which was standing and smoking...