Once upon a time, there came a great Beginning.

This Beginning was lacking in optimism, and said, "One day, there will be a great End."

The Beginning then vanished, for it was now a moment of the past, and the next moment had arrived.

In then next moment, a young broom maker had an idea that was going to change everything. His idea was so simple, but couldn't be expressed through language, so he did a little sweeping dance on top of a small asteroid to convey what he meant, but, alas, no one was watching.

This did not upset him in the slightest, for very soon, as he danced, he realised that he, the young broom maker, was the only living thing in existence. What a stroke of luck! This meant that his idea would be even better.

In the morning, after he had worn away the asteroid with his sweeping dance motions, he popped down to his local guatemalan chutney supplier and ordered everything he could possibly think of. He then nipped down to the bank, but not before tinkling down to see his friend, the gardening shovel, who had offered to teach him the oboe.

But how awful! The gardening shovel was not there, and had clearly gone on a pilgrimage to the riverbed. He searched for many years, but not before cleaning his shoes, and his sister's shoes, and his brother's shoes, and his uncle's shoes, and his aunt's shoes, and his daughter's shoes, and his son's shoes.

After he went mad, things changed. The 06:44 to Wobblington Station seemed to take much longer than before, and when the young broom maker timed the journey one day, he was appalled to find it took him 71 years, 56 days, 7 hours and 51 minutes. Also, every time he tried to find his nose, it had always moved to another place on his head.

When the young broom maker finally decided to see a plant pot about this condition, he found that there were no free appointment times available until the year 17676 AD, which struck as annoying, but also very odd, because he was sure he was still the only living thing in existence. He gave up eventually, deciding it was too long a wait. He bought a pouffe to put his feet on, but the pouffe hated him, and eventually left.

It was 2 o'clock by the time the doorbell delivery man came round, but the young broom maker did not have a doorbell, so the delivery man couldn't ring, and was forced to leave a note through his letterbox asking for him to collect the delivery at the storage bunker after 9 o'clock the following day. This did not go down well with the young broom maker, who was almost at his wit's end. However, he solemnly wandered down to the bunker the following day, and asked about collecting his doorbell. The margarine container in charge there told him that he must sign some papers. This was easy enough, but the young broom maker was violently sick on the papers, which smeared the ink, and since they did not have any more papers at hand, he was forced to leave without his doorbell.

It was then he realised, when he got back to his house, that he hadn't left his house at all, and was still in there, contemplating. The young broom maker was most confused by this, and tried to get into his house so he could sort it out, but the door was locked, and there was no doorbell. This led to him bashing on the windows to attract his attention to let himself in, but by this time, the young broom maker had begun to listen to some heavy metal, and so could not hear the windows almost shattering.

He wandered the streets, alone, wondering why he was still in his house, and was sidetracked by a small round dumpling lying in the middle of the pavement. He picked it up and realised it was his porridge he had forgotten to eat before he went out to collect his doorbell.

After this chance encounter, he and his porridge went everywhere together, and became really close buddies. Until, tragically, his porridge felt the urge to join the gym, a place the young broom maker had been thrown out of many years before.

Never one to despair, the young broom maker began a new life making brooms, before getting a strange sense of de-ja-vu. He went to see a psycho-analysist, but it was a fence, and a white-picket one at that, so he quickly thought up an excuse to escape through the window.

He bought a new house, but was appalled to find he was already living in it, and so decided to just live up a tree in his neighbour's garden, despite paying the mortgage. It was here he discovered origami. He quickly laid out a mat, onto which he placed a model house. He built a shed out of some twigs from the tree, and painted it green, but not before he built a shed out of some twigs from the tree, and painted it green, but not before he built a shed out of some twigs from the tree, and painted it green, but not before he built a shed out of some twigs from the tree, and painted it green, but not before he built a shed out of some twigs from the tree, and painted it green, but not before he built a shed out of some twigs from the tree, and painted it green, but not before he built a shed out of some twigs from the tree, and painted it green, but not before he built a shed out of some twigs from the tree, and painted it green, but not before he built a shed out of some twigs from the tree, and painted it green and, oh god, he was stuck in a terrible continuum of the same event, and, oh god, he was stuck in a terrible continuum of the same event, and, oh god, he was stuck in a terrible continuum of the same event, and, oh god, he was stuck in a terrible continuum of the same event, and, oh god, he was stuck in a terrible continuum of the same event, but he brought a picnic, so it's okay.