A Journey Into Honeyfeed

It was a dark and stormy night outside, and then all of the sudden a phone rang out in the darkness. 

"Howdy-loo!", I said, sayingly. "Who can it be at this hour, during this conveniently centralized storm?"

The strange thing about this storm is that it was, as I said earlier, entirely localized to a clearly visible radius of around 100 feet. 

Well, I didn't actually say that. But when I mentioned a localized storm, I thought that the audience could understand what I was talking about based on what I was saying. It's honestly a shame that I'm not more articulate, as maybe it would have made this entire section flow a lot smoother, rather than waste time dallying on purple prose. 

"I hate purple prose!", I shouted into the clouds of the entirely too small and meteorologically inappropriate storm. 

And honestly, I hate being sidetracked. I'm a busy guy. I've been leaving our dear friend on the other side of the phone waiting for far too long, and it's making me feel more like a bad guy than a busy guy. I picked up the phone, which was right next to me the whole time. 

"Hello, sir," came a husky, British voice that emanated through the rain and darkness. "Would you like to join Honeyfeed.fm, and possibly enter into a competition hosted by MyAnimeList and Anime Foundation?"

Well, I did love my anime. And a list for ranking my anime sounded quite intriguing. A MyAnimeList, so to speak, could have nothing but joy and wonder lying within. I twirled the cord around my finger, in a manner similar to but not entirely like a teenage girl in 1980s sitcoms. It's just a really relaxing feeling, honestly. The little vinyl-ish, plasticky substance that covers the wire, with the repeating grooves and-

Ah, that's right. 

I'm supposed to be busy.

I picked up the receiver? phone? thing you talk into when you're on the phone? it's probably called a receiver? let me check - it is not. As it turns out, the entire device is called the handset. The part that you, the user, receive audio from, is called the receiver. Figures. I was talking about picking up the handset and speaking into the transmitter, not whatever I was saying three or so sentences ago. Anyways, I went and did that, and whispered oh so gently:

"I would love nothing more than to sign up for your competition. Have a good day, sir."

It was actually a dark and stormy night, and this spur of the moment ad-lib has haunted me on sleepless nights ever since.