Sitting, in front of a computer, Lone Wolf looks like he's somewhere between a hernea and a psychotic incident. Little bits of a mouse hang, embedded in a badly warped computer. The monitor seems to have a few bite marks.
You REALLY don't wanna know what's happened to the keyboard.
Using the final few working buttons, the psudeo-author in training watches the screen for any sign of response.
He gets it.
First, the MSN-Hotmail logo pops up, then, that blue and beige tool bar. And then... a bunch of bizzare computer code.
The boy's eye twitches for a moment, then he screams bloody murder and grabs the nearest blunt object.
It happens to be a metal chair.
Without thinking, or technically seeing, the neophyte-author swings his makeshift club at the clunking computer.
The computer is smashed into bits, resulting in lots of pretty sparks, and a lot of electricity running up the chair.
The current carries the now smoking boy into the air, flying away from the melting chair, and into the ground. His eyes spin around for a moment, then he groans and passes out.


Due to technical problems with Hotmail, I'm moving. If anyone wants to take me up on that Pre-reader's offer, you can find me at:
Zalabar@yahoo.com

As always, C&C is appreciated.
:p

Lone Wolf
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