Should we dive into a of this story or explore a different style of narration?

Woody smiled, a nervous, twitchy sort of grin. "That’s the secret. The more you know, the less anything makes sense. It’s the only way to stay sane in a world that’s basically a series of sketches written by a caffeinated deity."

Woody sat in the velvet seat of the theater, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses. On the screen, a giant breast was terrorizing a countryside. He sighed. This was exactly how his brain felt on a Tuesday.

He thought back to the court jester he’d played in the previous segment. Being a fool was easy; the costumes were breathable. But being a modern man? That required a level of neuroticism that even his therapist found exhausting. He spent his days worrying about the cosmic insignificance of his love life and his nights wondering if his refrigerator was judging his lack of kale. Suddenly, the screen went blank. The theater fell silent. "Is this part of the bit?" someone yelled from the back.

Woody stood up. "No, this is the intermission of the human soul! We are currently between the desire for answers and the realization that the questions were phrased poorly!"

6.6everything You Always Wanted To Know About S... -

Should we dive into a of this story or explore a different style of narration?

Woody smiled, a nervous, twitchy sort of grin. "That’s the secret. The more you know, the less anything makes sense. It’s the only way to stay sane in a world that’s basically a series of sketches written by a caffeinated deity." 6.6Everything You Always Wanted to Know About S...

Woody sat in the velvet seat of the theater, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses. On the screen, a giant breast was terrorizing a countryside. He sighed. This was exactly how his brain felt on a Tuesday. Should we dive into a of this story

He thought back to the court jester he’d played in the previous segment. Being a fool was easy; the costumes were breathable. But being a modern man? That required a level of neuroticism that even his therapist found exhausting. He spent his days worrying about the cosmic insignificance of his love life and his nights wondering if his refrigerator was judging his lack of kale. Suddenly, the screen went blank. The theater fell silent. "Is this part of the bit?" someone yelled from the back. The more you know, the less anything makes sense

Woody stood up. "No, this is the intermission of the human soul! We are currently between the desire for answers and the realization that the questions were phrased poorly!"