Let's do a writing exercise

Let's do a writing exercise.

"You write a sentence, and the person below you has to remove all the fillers/bullshit and try to shorten it while keeping the message/words intact, no rmoving of lttrs."

How short can you make the question above?

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sentence* I fucked up

You write words

Not gonna make it as a writer, you removed the goal of the sentence

one writes, the following edits

sage

Francois stood before them in the image of a phoenix, still wearing his tattered dust-stained shirt he looked a man on fire; his sun-burnt cheeks were painted by the ochre earth, while his shirt was a sweaty orange save for the red slashes like the licks of flame through which he bled.

>Francois stood before them bleeding and caked in red dust.

F. did his thing.

F. rends.

now you post a sentence.

"Again and again, Ashley drove her fist into the beanie babies face, establishing her dominance in the most archaic of ways - she would never forgive the promotional item for not being Pepsi-themed."

As he was being raped by ABT brother Tiny Terrance, dressed ornately in drag, he wondered about his infinitesimally small place in this ineluctably vast universe, pondering to what extent his practice in existence would affect the outer reaches of space and time; what is the furthest and farthest event his existence would verifiably impact: he did not know the answers to these simple questions, but he did know that his newly formed anal fissure would surely duke it out with his now-popped bevy of hemorrhoids occupying his sphincter—he knew not-so-Tiny Terrance was finished pumping ass.

>Ashley was a daft cunt.

Mr Terrence busied himself with the thinking man's ass.

Ashley punched a toy because it did not conform to her consumer preferences.

kek

Ashley assaults rival brand ambassador

I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another… then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

Ashley fisted a baby for being sponsored by Coca Cola.

I wanted him to love me like a narcissist.

yes

"Why would I buy store brand Cola - just because I live in a woodpanelled trailer I'm not some sort of lesser human being, some kind of fetal alcohol syndrom goblin that doesn't deserve the sweet nectar you gringos call Pepsi."

When the 17 year old girl leaned forward to mark something on her notes, her pullover lifted up to reveal the black outline of a small rose, tattooed on her side, that peaked out in coquettish bloom between spade shaped leaves and thorns, while her exposed skin raised little goosebumps on flesh-colored petals.

"Why would I deny myself the sweet sugar of the white man's trademarked Pepsi!? I am not subhuman, despite poor living conditions."

She was 17, her skin already marked for wilting away beautifully.

"yes, mark me, i want the world to know"

I feigned a pitch and a jolt of anticipation sent a terrmor through the dog, the stress reminded me that I had a job to do, so I dropped the ball and grabbed the shovel, one more moment and the dogs stress would release but it was cemented at it's climax when my shovel smacked down on it's head an inch short of catching that bouncing tennis ball.

She was a thick Italian girl, of the Sicilian variety, with black hair, curled up for the evening, she was wearing a violet dress open where weak little strings held it together taut over her full-breasted chest, her right forearm was ornamented with a large golden bracelet that trapped an azure ball in elaborate wiring, which hung loose around her wrist and slid up and down every time she lifted the fork to nimbly place some food between those roseate lips.

I faked out the dog with a ball and got him all excited which reminded me that I needed to kill 'em and I did.

Mamma, givé me milkiés!

"You write a sentence, and the person below you has to remove all the fillers/bullshit and try to shorten it while keeping the message/words intact, no rmoving of lttrs."
>Thou shalt not removeth thine letters
Well, you tried OP

Nice concept, but im removing your shitty letters, and I may very well make it longer. OP, imma do both. I will increase the verbosity of the sentence as eloquently as possible.

Suppose if it we're, that one would construct a sentence following which, the fellow beneath you in sequence would simplify, articulate, as well as convey the same sentence in a manner that withdraws excess language, condenses, and maintains the original sentences intention without necessarily removing any part of its composition."

Fite me

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You write words
remove all
keep meaning

a haifuku

I like this, it increases the exercise to encompass two different goals, but entirely different skill set with regard to creativity and editing.

He appeared as before, slouched and gaunt upon the ridge, bearing the horizon on a damp grey coat.

>Maintaining meaning, shorten the previous poster's sentence.

He was, as previously, a pathetic sight on the horizon.

He appeared again, as a slouched silhouette on the ridge, gaunt and bent in a manner, which evoked the feeling that his damp grey coat was more than just a physical burden upon his thin shoulders.

The innkeeper's beautiful wife, Caressa, was particularly attracted to Dashington. Her soft large breasts sat low and close together, each showing a peek of her enlarged brown nipples whenever she bent over to fondle Dashington's body. She sat besides him when Dashington and Rupert got a drink, and felt her hands all over him.

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Cuckold fetishist innkeeper wife kept showing cleavage to some black guy named Dashington. Rupert, cuck husband, watched.