A story by David Moser...
This Is the Title of This Story,
Which Is Also Found Several Times in the Story Itself
This is the first sentence of this story. This is the second sentence.
This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in
the story itself. This sentence is questioning the intrinsic value of
the first two sentences. This sentence is to inform you, in case you
haven't already realized it, that this is a self-referential story, that
is, a story containing sentences that refer to their own structure and
function. This is a sentence that provides an ending to the first
paragraph.
This is the first sentence of a new paragraph in a self-referential
story. This sentence is introducing you to the protagonist of the
story, a young boy named Billy. This sentence is telling you that Billy
is blond and blue-eyed and American and twelve years old and strangling
his mother. This sentence comments on the awkward nature of the
self-referential narrative form while recognizing the strange and
playful detachment it affords the writer. As if illustrating the point
made by the last sentence, this sentence reminds us, with no trace of
facetiousness, that children are a precious gift from God and that the
world is a better place when graced by the unique joys and delights they
bring to it.
This sentence describes Billy's mother's bulging eyes and protruding
tongue and makes reference to the unpleasant choking and gagging noises
she's making. This sentence makes the observation that these are
uncertain and difficult times, and that relationships, even seemingly
deep-rooted and permanent ones, do have a tendency to break down.
Introduces, in this paragraph, the device of sentence fragments. A
sentence fragment. Another. Good device. Will be used more later.
This is actually the last sentence of the story but has been placed here
by mistake. This is the title of this story, which is also found several
times in the story itself. As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy
dreams he found himself in his bed transformed into a gigantic insect.
This sentence informs you that the preceding sentence is from another
story entirely (a much better one, it must be noted) and has no place at
all in this particular narrative. Despite claims of the preceding
sentence, this sentence feels compelled to inform you that the story you
are reading is in actuality "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka, and that
the sentence referred to by the preceding sentence is the only sentence
which does indeed belong in this story. This sentence overrides the
preceding sentence by informing the reader (poor, confused wretch) that
this piece of literature is actually the Declaration of Independence,
but that the author, in a show of extreme negligence (if not malicious
sabotage), has so far failed to include even one single sentence from
that stirring document, although he has condescended to use a small
sentence fragment, namely, "When in the course of human events",
embedded in quotation marks near the end of a sentence. Showing a keen
awareness of the boredom and downright hostility of the average reader
with regard to the pointless conceptual games indulged in by the
preceding sentences, this sentence returns us at last to the scenario of
the story by asking the question, "Why is Billy strangling his mother?"
This sentence attempts to shed some light on the question posed by the
preceding sentence but fails. This sentence, however, succeeds, in that
it suggests a possible incestuous relationship between Billy and his
mother and alludes to the concomitant Freudian complications any astute
reader will immediately envision. Incest. The unspeakable taboo. The
universal prohibition. Incest. And notice the sentence fragments? Good
literary device. Will be used more later.
This is the first sentence in a new paragraph. This is the last sentence
in a new paragraph.
This sentence can serve as either the beginning of the paragraph or end,
depending on its placement. This is the title of this story, which is
also found several times in the story itself. This sentence raises a
serious objection to the entire class of self-referential sentences that
merely comment on their own function or placement within the story
(e.g., the preceding four sentences), on the grounds that they are
monotonously predictable, unforgivably self-indulgent, and merely serve
to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which at
this point seems to concern strangulation and incest and who knows what
other delightful topics. The purpose of this sentence is to point out
that the preceding sentence, while not itself a member of the class of
self-referential sentences it objects to, nevertheless also serves
merely to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which
actually concerns Gregor Samsa's inexplicable transformation into a
gigantic insect (despite the vociferous counterclaims of other
well-meaning although misinformed sentences). This sentence can serve as
either the beginning of the paragraph or end, depending on its
placement.
This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in
the story itself. This is almost the title of the story, which is found
only once in the story itself. This sentence regretfully states that up
to this point the self-referential mode of narrative has had a
paralyzing effect on the actual progress of the story itself -- that is,
these sentences have been so concerned with analyzing themselves and
their role in the story that they have failed by and large to perform
their function as communicators of events and ideas that one hopes
coalesce into a plot, character development, etc. -- in short, the very
raisons d'etre of any respectable, hardworking sentence in the midst of
a piece of compelling prose fiction. This sentence in addition points
out the obvious analogy between the plight of these agonizingly
self-aware sentences and similarly afflicted human beings, and it points
out the analogous paralyzing effects wrought by excessive and tortured
self-examination.
The purpose of this sentence (which can also serve as a paragraph) is to
speculate that if the Declaration of Independence had been worded and
structured as lackadaisically and incoherently as this story has been so
far, there's no telling what kind of warped libertine society we'd be
living in now or to what depths of decadence the inhabitants of this
country might have sunk, even to the point of deranged and debased
writers constructing irritatingly cumbersome and needlessly prolix
sentences that sometimes possess the questionable if not downright
undesirable quality of referring to themselves and they sometimes even
become run-on sentences or exhibit other signs of inexcusably sloppy
grammar like unneeded superfluous redundancies that almost certainly
would have insidious effects on the lifestyle and morals of our
impressionable youth, leading them to commit incest or even murder and
maybe that's why Billy is strangling his mother, because of sentences
just like this one, which have no discernible goals or perspicuous
purpose and just end up anywhere, even in mid
Bizarre. A sentence fragment. Another fragment. Twelve years old. This
is a sentence that. Fragmented. And strangling his mother. Sorry, sorry.
Bizarre. This. More fragments. This is it. Fragments. The title of this
story, which. Blond. Sorry, sorry. Fragment after fragment. Harder.
This is a sentence that. Fragments. Damn good device.
The purpose of this sentence is threefold: (1) to apologize for the
unfortunate and inexplicable lapse exhibited by the preceding paragraph;
(2) to assure you, the reader, that it will not happen again; and (3) to
reiterate the point that these are uncertain and difficult times and
that aspects of language, even seemingly stable and deeply rooted ones
such as syntax and meaning, do break down. This sentence adds nothing
substantial to the sentiments of the preceding sentence but merely
provides a concluding sentence to this paragraph, which otherwise might
not have one.
This sentence, in a sudden and courageous burst of altruism, tries to
abandon the self-referential mode but fails. This sentence tries again,
but the attempt is doomed from the start.
This sentence, in a last-ditch attempt to infuse some iota of story line
into this paralyzed prose piece, quickly alludes to Billy's frantic
cover-up attempts, followed by a lyrical, touching, and beautifully
written passage wherein Billy is reconciled with his father (thus
resolving the subliminal Freudian conflicts obvious to any astute
reader) and a final exciting police chase scene during which Billy is
accidentally shot and killed by a panicky rookie policeman who is
coincidentally named Billy. This sentence, although basically in
complete sympathy with the laudable efforts of the preceding
action-packed sentence, reminds the reader that such allusions to a
story that doesn't, in fact, yet exist are no substitute for the real
thing and therefore will not get the author (indolent goof-off that he
is) off the proverbial hook.
Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.
Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.
Paragraph. Paragraph.
The purpose. Of this paragraph. Is to apologize. For its gratuitous use.
Of. Sentence fragments. Sorry.
The purpose of this sentence is to apologize for the pointless and silly
adolescent games indulged in by the preceding two paragraphs, and to
express regret on the part of us, the more mature sentences, that the
entire tone of this story is such that it can't seem to communicate a
simple, albeit sordid, scenario.
This sentence wishes to apologize for all the needless apologies found
in this story (this one included), which, although placed here
ostensibly for the benefit of the more vexed readers, merely delay in a
maddeningly recursive way the continuation of the by-now nearly
forgotten story line.
This sentence is bursting at the punctuation marks with news of the dire
import of self-reference as applied to sentences, a practice that could
prove to be a veritable Pandora's box of potential havoc, for if a
sentence can refer or allude to itself, why not a lowly subordinate
clause, perhaps this very clause? Or this sentence fragment? Or three
words? Two words? One?
Perhaps it is appropriate that this sentence gently and with no trace of
condescension reminds us that these are indeed difficult and uncertain
times and that in general people just aren't nice enough to each other,
and perhaps we, whether sentient human beings or sentient sentences,
should just try harder. I mean, there is such a thing as free will,
there has to be, and this sentence is proof of it! Neither this sentence
nor you, the reader, is completely helpless in the face of all the
pitiless forces at work in the universe. We should stand our ground,
face facts, take Mother Nature by the throat and just try harder. By the
throat. Harder. Harder, harder.
Sorry.
This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in
the story itself.
This is the last sentence of the story. This is the last sentence of the
story. This is the last sentence of the story. This is.
Sorry.