Charlie Harris woke up one Friday morning, glanced at his clock and saw he was already running late. He then glanced down at his erection and being that Charlie was never one to waste a quality erection like the one he was sporting that morning, he knew he had to move quickly. Leaping out of bed, he quickly got dressed and then checked the ribbon on his Underwood typewriter.
"Damn, almost out," he exclaimed, grabbing his telephone and dialing. "Hey baby, you're still there?"
"Good, good, hey I've got something to show you, but I'm in a hurry."
"Okay, okay, I'll be right over," he replied, hanging up the phone, pulling on the rest of his clothes and grabbing his car keys. Glancing at his counter, he realized he had already spent over one hundred twenty five words just getting dressed. Damn he had to hurry.
He drove the long way, knowing there was very little scenery to describe, just road and guardrails and a few other cars. Thankfully there were no blossoming trees or anything like that. After the long drive he screeched up in front of his girlfriend's apartment and rushed up to her door.
Charlie grabbed for the door knob but discovered it was locked, so he then wasted a number of words reaching up, grabbing the ornate brass door knocker with the number four hundred twelve inscribed on it and knocking three times. He then wasted some more words tapping his feet and waiting for her to answer the door.
