Putting off Work

Riding that inate ability everyone has to do absoultely nothing productive for hours I'm going to to try and write a story using nothing but song titles on my mp3 player for the basis of as much of the content as I can.

Let the story begin.
The year was 1991. The planet was L490. And despite a 100 suns shining on it, it was filled with a blue light. Our hero, Mr Misfortune smoked 1000 cigarettes and consequently couldn't walk a milimeter without feeling zzzonked, let alone 9000 miles. This was the least of his problems considering the dragon queen was about. In this city he felt good, but had to cross the cold dessert to enlist the help of juggernauts to kick ass and take names. He walked on,lights and music on his mind. He felt half a world away and then reached Kansas City. Walking through the city he met the kids, a group of super intelligent but ironically dosy midgets. They told him the dragon queen wasn't a queen at all, in fact it was a giant corporation - he needed to kill the director. They also recommended the apple pie, but this as like eating glass, clearly a bad omen. He walked on, before he realised "I'm not alone". Turning round he saw some ghosts 'n' stuff. They knocked him unconcious and stole his faverote green socks, knocking him into flashback. Once again he was 17, a flourecent adolecent getting dosed. Sadly in the real world his end credits were rolling as a rabid squirel drew near. Black and blue and sockless things weren't looking good until Elvi$ appeared for one final encore and harder, better, faster, stronger he gave the squirel a kiss with a fist. The poor thing flew backwards, oddly realising the importance of being idle and how being idle he'd be curled up in bed watching re-runs of top gear on dave. Mr Misfortune woke up, and with Elvi$ sat to watch the sun come up. As they stared something came through the distance - it look pissed and was going in for the kill:s!

more after the dissertation intro is written.