The Keyboard That Isn't Actually A Keyboard
The beginning of it all.
So it started when I got my new keyboard. It was a Christmas present, given to me by my great-great creepy old uncle when I was 13. The day begun as any Christmas day would; my brother and I ran downstairs to meet a glorious collection of neatly wrapped gifts in two separate piles, however one gift in particular stood out the most. It was larger than the rest and was covered in black, bleak wrapping paper with no indication of who it was from, or who it was for. This got us both wondering to the point where I got a headache. We decided the best way of going around this would be to scavenge around and see if I could find a note which had fallen off somewhere but there was none to be found, so with one moment of hesitation we simultaneously dived towards the box and tore at the devious paper preventing us from beholding the glory of the contents inside.
Funnily enough there were two smaller boxes inside the larger one. These ones had letters taped on, one addressed to me and the other addressed to my brother. He was the first to open his box and extracted a peculiar old wrench, used in WWI. His first impulse was to throw it somewhere consequently breaking the TV, a window and his wrist, which would be such joyous joy to my parents once they managed to flop out of bed. I managed to have a little more restraint than my brother, choosing to read the letter before anything else. It read;
"Dear my great-great nephew,
Please use this gift wisely, as it is very important to me. Remember to pass it on to your great-great nephew, and remind him to pass it onto his great-great nephew. Have fun, and be safe.
Love from your great-great creepy old uncle."
Inside the box I found the weirdest keyboard I have ever seen. It was styled like a typewriter but had golden outlines and an USB port, signifying how modern it must be. I was more grateful than you'd had thought because my creepy uncle had always talked about his keyboard, and also my old one didn't work. After the boring family business I ran upstairs, finally glad to be able to use my computer for the first time in ages! I got ready to load up some facebook and relive some glory days, however upon start up the keyboard wouldn't do anything. I ferociously mashed the keys with my fingers, toes and forehead in an attempt to get the damn thing to work, however it didn't seem to have any ability to input whatsoever. Irritated, I sat back and sighed, ready for another of year of waiting when, all of a sudden, my log in details filled themselves in. I leaned in curiously, wondering what on earth was happening to my computer, however any keyboard which required no effort was fine by me.
I was intrigued to see how this would progress and joined an online server. I willed chat to open, and sure enough it did, much to my surprise. However what appeared on screen next was not pleasing at all. Before my eyes, lines and lines of abuse were being sent to random users on the server through my name! I watched on in horror as my public image was being destroyed before my very eyes. Moments before I was banned from the server (for supposed "spam hacking") the final three messages were as follows:
"YOU"
"ARE"
"DEAD."
I had no idea if this was another threat to the inhabitants of the facebook world or me specifically, however what I do know is that after being banned the window closed itself down and the computer logged itself out. I stared at the blank log-in screen with a sense of dread and betrayal. Why would my great-great creepy old uncle send me something like this!? Cast my eyes over the object before me, and I slowly realized what I truly had plugged into my computer. It was a toothbrush.
With rage and fury I slapped my hands on the desk and did a 180, only to find my brother standing there with a keyboard in his hand, plugged into one of the rear USB slots of my computer. His grin was huge but his head was larger as he yanked the cord linking the two devices, freeing the keyboard and almost toppling my PC. I threw the nearest object to hand at him, which happened to be a stress relieving ball. It bounced harmlessly off his head and rolled out my door.
The end.