This is the story of a Princess who had no story.
This is the tale of a tale which was never told before, and won’t be told now.
Tonight, I’ll speak you hosts of ghosts which will terrify you vastly. But I’ll wait ’til you’re asleep, because you need your rest.
This is why you must leave out milk and cookies for the Faeries: in the vain hope that they’ll leave your whiskey alone.
This is a tale you will never forget, because I shan’t speak of it at all, and thus, you won’t have anything to remember in the first place.
This is the myth no mouth can speak, no letters reveal. It does work pretty well if you picture it as a little pink bunny-wunny, though.
And THIS knowledge will allow you to crack the walls of Reality and enter Another Place, which would probably make a good story, only the story is over there, and we’re over here, so I hope YOU enjoy it, because we can’t.
This story begins with “this story”, and doesn’t go anywhere from there.
This cautionary tale is what happens when you let a sentient pen explain everything for you, and thus, nothing will ever make it out of your skull.
This is an ancient yarn about a piece of very thick string.
This, ah, this, THIS is an ending without a beginning, and as long as you are willing to believe that the author is a master storyteller, or a teacher of Zen, or a knower of nameless mysteries, then that might be a satisfying, even a powerful ending. So let’s just assume that I’m a Zen master reading aloud from the Necronomicon. We’ll both be happier that way, all right?