Feedback time. I'll give you some bits of somethings, and you say which bit you want to hear more from:
Bit Number One
As a general rule, the Smiggleworths are regular people. Not a one of them wears a wristwatch as a subconsciously inherited rule. A Smiggleworth stomach is a better timepiece than what the Swiss used to produce. At three evenly divided intervals, precisely the same intervals, each Smiggleworth stomach grumbles unhappily. Likewise, sleepiness seems to run contagiously and regularly. A typical Wednesday night: the Smiggleworths are all reading their favorite books, and little Juniper Smiggleworth is beggining to nod off at precisely 9:30 PM. Now see the yawns quickly traveling across the room. Each one is placing his bookmark---be it a piece of pant, dental floss, or pressed flower--in its place, and they're tiptoeing off to bed.
The only downside to their marvelously coordinated internal clocks is that the Smiggleworth household has 9 occupants and one bathroom. So, unbeknownst to them, at precisely the same time: 7am, 12pm, 5pm, and 9 the Smiggleworths and their tortured bladders all line up outside the bathroom to take their turn.
Do you want to know more about them? Do you want to know what happens to them? It might be dark and lonesome. It may be outta this world. I may be, well, just another story we may as well have read fifty times.
Bit Number Two
I grab the doorknob--a snippet from my dream last night pops into my head--I hate that. I pull on the knob and the door peels back like a sheet of rubber. I shudder. That's disgusting, wood is not supposed to behave like rubber. What is the world coming to?
What even is this nonsense? Do you want to know?
Bit Number Three
There once was an unfortunate man with the last name 'Winner.' Or rather I should say: There once was a man with the unforuntate last name 'Winner.' But I don't know which statement is more true because a man is so adhered to his name that the two can't seem to do anything really apart; the one is always getting ascribed to the other.
This unfortunate Mr. Winner married the unfortunate Liza Hamm, who really didn't like being a Hamm and thought the new name a great improvement. But she was unfortunately wrong, as she never would have been driven to such cruelty against her son, as she was, the day he was born.
"Unfortunate" is repeated a lot in this one...but it may not be an unfortunate story at all. It may be a tale of triumph and great happiness! ?