My name is Choz. That’s only a fraction of what’s left of my memory. Lost in this foreign era, I find myself being referred to as Chiz by the native-time people despite my innumerable corrections.
The last thing I remember from my own era was volunteering to test an updated version of Apple’s iTeleport 32. I assume that a quadromolecular glitch occurred in the flangometer which triggered a quantum leap to some unknown period, but that’s only a hypothesis.
Apparently, the Chiz I’m being identified as was tragically killed by a throng of fugitive zoo animals according to his obituary. However, many took this obituary as a joke on his behalf and believe he is still alive. I’ve been attempting to blend in as to not arouse suspicion which would be easy under normal circumstances considering this Chiz guy was apparently really fuckin’ weird, but in order for me to fulfill this role presently, I must carry on a challenge he carelessly submitted himself to: The A-Z Blogging Challenge.
Now, I’ve treaded the treacherous caves of Aernoth and fought in the Sporkle Arena against a gaggle of Shark Cheetah hybrids armed with nothing but a spigaggle and shmishy-smorsh, but never in my life have I faced a challenge this taxing.
I mean seriously, these humans whom have christened themselves ‘bloggers’ have a desire to torture themselves with such difficult tasks. Fortunately, this Chiz guy’s posts are severely lacking, making this challenge a little more manageable. For Splorg’s sake! He doesn’t even proofread them! Yet, it goes without saying that these bloggers must have fingers like oxmonkeys and minds like President Clinton-3000. They don’t even have superhuman enhancements in this primitive age.
All I can pray for is that I complete this challenge as to continue to mask my true identity of Choz of the 31st Century.
Only my prettiest photos are selected for this blog.
Half the time spent on posts is the selection process.