Alcoholic, Chain-Smoking, Famous Author Dies at 56

Funny story written by Wesley Janson

Saturday, 2 March 2019

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Internationally famous author, Charles B. Hardon, died horribly outside of his Florida home last Monday at 4:30 in the morning after experiencing hours upon hours of excruciating physical pain and unbearable torment.

An autopsy revealed that he was trying to pass a kidney stone while having a heart attack, and that he had violent diarrhea as well as a bad case of the flu. Puking and shitting constantly as he was simultaneously trying to deal with the kidney stone and the heart attack, Mr. Hardon fell down on the floor of his living room and began twitching and gurgling incessantly for 45 minutes due to the indescribable amount of anguish he was experiencing.

When he finally found the strength to start moving again, Charles crawled out of his house to get some fresh air, stood up, and then doubled over again as even more unfathomable agony racked his entire body.

Completely unable to move, Mr. Hardon laid there suffering tremendously as a thunderstorm suddenly began, causing rain to pour down relentlessly on his helpless body for several hours before he used his last ounce of strength to get up just in time for lightning to strike a giant tree branch.

Still struggling to survive after the tree branch landed on his head and caused irreversible cognitive damage, Charles walked forward completely incoherent and drooling onto the main street in front of his house before he was hit by a 2013 Corvette going 95 miles per hour. He then sailed through the air like a helpless rag doll and was eventually impaled on a gate post a block away from his home.

During his open-casket funeral on Thursday, some of his friends described him as 'physically unhealthy, emotionally-unbalanced, and obsessive-compulsive.' The highly-embarrassed relatives from his mother's side of the family remembered him as 'angry, psychotic, and balding,' and (church-going) neighbors recalled that he was 'an iconoclastic nihilist with delusions of grandeur and a lethally-explosive temper.'

Complete strangers who showed up at the funeral told reporters that they often got the impression that he was a physically unhealthy, emotionally-unbalanced, obsessive-compulsive, angry, psychotic, balding, iconoclastic nihilist with delusions of grandeur and a lethally explosive temper.

Nonetheless, his three books: Reasons Why Mysterious Artifacts Discovered By Archaeologists In Bangladesh Don't Pertain To Current Social Issues In The United States; Beer And Cigarettes Will Love You More Than Any Person Ever Does; and Engaging In Substance Abuse Is Healthier Than Seeing A Clinical Psychologist Who Jerked Off During Sociology Classes In College will always resonate in the hearts and minds of his readers.

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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