If the words projected a personality, I imagine the one-sided conversation between paper and reader might progress something like this:
“What are you looking at? Hey! Yeah, you with the blank stare; the only one looking at me. What…are…you…staring at?”
“Are you enjoying yourself, schmuck? Do you like eye-balling my lines? Do I amuse you, in some fashion? Do I…wait. Did you really just crack at smile at me? REALLY? Am I funny? Do I make you laugh? Do you suddenly find me hilarious? Speak up, jerk!”
“Oh, I see. Not in the mood to chew the fat, are ya? So you’re just gonna sit there and continue to ogle my goods; is that your plan, buddy? Talk to me, you wretch!”
“Is this some kind of a fetish thing? Is my blank space white enough for you? Are my words dark enough? Are my edges crisp; my texture light enough, freak? Well just pick me up and I’ll give you the paper cut of a lifetime, buddy! Nobody stares at me, without respect! Stop lookin’ at me, you son-of-a-…”
“Wait! Don’t you touch me! Get your frickin’ hands off me, or I’ll…wait! No! Ahh!”
*Crinkle ~ Crackle ~ Crinkle ~ Crubble ~ Pitch*
Two points. That story was shaping up to be a little too angry for my taste.
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