Justin and the calcitrant biscuit robber, Chapter 1

Hi, this is my Justin Bieber love story. I hope you like it.

'Justin and the calcitrant biscuit robber, or, Alls Well In Love and Hate'

By Saffron Lesion

Chapter ONe

Justin awoke with a thud and exclaimed in his head, 'we musn't let them steal our biscuits', concerned with the recent spate of buscuit theft. Realizing that he must have fallen asleep, he arose from his chair and, recalling his favorite Rochefoucauldian maxim (no. 138), he set about musing on the slowly phosphorescing tasks he had to do that day. It was hard being a pop supernaut (he knew that, and gradually wearing his clothing) he considered how he might revenge himself upon the cruel world that day. One of his favorite pastimes when not singing at a pop concert was to surrepticiously slip split infinitives into his conversations and hope no-one would notice... they never did, he knew, and this made him glum. 'Oh, woe is me,' he exclaimed, musing on the long day ahead of him. He was curiously interested in the curious fact that Hungarian grammar permits infixes in its words. Which is to say that whereas indo-european languages append morphemes either to the beginning or end of words, Hungarians insert them in the middle, he thought maybe his musing on split infinitives had brought this thought into his mind. The sun gleamed brightly thru the curtains and Justin knew it was time to start his day. Ever since he had become an overnight sensation, each and every day had been depressingly similar in its aleatory unpredictability. Frequently have I had to mourn alone / my cares each morning; now no living man / exists to whom I dare reveal my heart / openly, Justin quoted. It was a hard life. The interviewer from the magazine had asked him yesterday if he was tired out with his wearying life, and he had replied that it was 'hardly tough'. Now he smiled at himself (he was sat in front of his mirror) and gently warmed his jaded soul by chuckling inwardly at the wordplay latent in his use of the word 'hard'. It was a small recompense, but sometimes linguistics was the only thing keeping him sane. His heart began to weep, tears of blood.

Justin was jolted out of his reverie by a sharp knock at the door. 'Who could that be?', he wondered.

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Category:

Music

Tags:

• justin
• bieber
• love
• story
• biscuit
• robber
• hungary
• philology
• aneurisms

[aprilsummorful]

you are my crush

[aprilsummorful]

your so cute my boyfriend