FranIAm tagged me, so I'm going to continue.
I'm not much of a tagger and am sort of opposed to it on principle, so if any of you lot wish to continue the story, go for it.
I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)
"That's strange," I said out loud to no one in particular. My fingers slowly reached towards the jar again. My body experienced a wave of apprehension as weighted blanket covering me as I did so. The jar was completely frozen.
I picked it up and stared at it, my fingers stung with little knives of chill. "What the..." again I spoke aloud. Then I realized what had happened with a shock. Suddenly the jar flew from my hand. It shattered creating a collage-like mixture of frozen applesauce and glass shards on my kitchen floor, the lid lazily rolling to a stop across the room.(FranIam)
"Goddamn it," I yelled, cursing my bad luck and my lack of co-ordination. Oafish is a word that has been used to describe me from time to time. If I don't fall on my face at least once a week, I know there's something wrong with me.
Snapping back to reality, I took stock of the situation. Though I was not wearing shoes, I was lucky enough that the mess was several feet away and thus not close enough to have cut me. The worst thing I had to worry about was cleaning up a spiraling trail of mushy, clotted applesauce and globs of glass. Most of it lay in one big sideways vomit across the linoleum floor, about two feet from the refrigerator. I sighed and walked towards the closet where I keep the dustpan and broom. (Comrade Kevin)