Story Generator
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Elliot Rodger looked at the sharp knife in his hands and felt mad.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his disgusting surroundings. He had always hated slums Toronto with its handsome, healthy houses. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel mad.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Alek Minassian. Alek was an angry saint with autistic arms and skinny hands.
Elliot gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a sinister, mad, latte drinker with ugly arms and hapa hands. His friends saw him as a super, sneezing saint. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a broad woman.
But not even a sinister person who had once jumped into a river and saved a broad woman, was prepared for what Alek had in store today.
The rain hammered like rampaging dogs, making Elliot rage.
As Elliot stepped outside and Alek came closer, he could see the resonant glint in his eye.
"I am here because I want friendship," Alek bellowed, in an upset tone. He slammed his fist against Elliot's chest, with the force of 709 lion. "I frigging love you, Elliot Rodger."
Elliot looked back, even more rage and still fingering the sharp knife. "Alek, you did a good job Alek," he replied.
They looked at each other with angry feelings, like two curly, chubby cats murdering at a very just holiday, which had death music playing in the background and two great uncles killing to the beat.
Suddenly, Alek lunged forward and tried to punch Elliot in the face. Quickly, Elliot grabbed the sharp knife and brought it down on Alek's skull.
Alek's autistic arms trembled and his skinny hands wobbled. He looked upset, his body raw like a vain, valid van.
Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Alek Minassian was dead.
Elliot Rodger went back inside and made himself a nice drink of latte.
THE END
