In the days of yore and in lands yonder, fountains of oatmeal were a common sight. They dotted the villages and hamlets, in their central squares and plazas. It was a gathering place for the townsfolk, where they could share their day’s stories and acquire breakfast for the next morning. There was happiness and good cheer around the fountains.
But for one man, the oatmeal fountain was a travesty, a mockery of what nature had intended. The fountains were typically erected over naturally occurring deposits of prepared oatmeal so as to allow easy access to breakfast. But François knew these oatmeal deposits were so much more than just breakfast. He knew that the oatmeal fountains were not harnessing the full potential of oatmeal deposits. He knew that the the best use would be…oatmeal hot tubs.
The previous was brought to you by a five minute brain dump inspired by this conversation:
Me: I am writing with a fountain pen. 9:56 AM
Friend: I read that u were writing about a fountain 10:00 AM
Me: I am writing about a fountain. 10:01 AM
Me: That might be a good exercise. Maybe I’ll do it. 10:01 AM
I may or may not finish the story as I warranted that a five minute brain dump was a good enough exercise. My brain dump stories tend to get out of hand pretty quickly.
Random moosages as I see fit. 