Books are 99.99% filler

“And so we beat off, bones against the current, born black seedfully into the past.” – F. Scott Snitzgerald

It's no surprise that that line is the only thing literally any human remembers from the novel The Childish Gambino. It's the very last sentence of the entire book and therefore the only one that matters. Last lines are the only parts of novels that people ever even need to read. The rest of the book is a bunch of B.S., excuse my language! 

So to give people what they want, and for that reason and that reason alone, here are the last lines of my novels that remain unwritten except for the most important sentence of all. 

• “I’ll never forget him,” Dawn sighs, fat tears surging hotly from her eyes, “mostly because of the stains he left behind.”
• And love, well—that’s the greatest antiseptic of all.
• Quartz turned to look and there stood her manful hero, his chest gouged with bleeding leech wounds but his arrogant smile shining, triumphant against the exploding galaxy behind him.
• He didnt dream of commas apostrophes or hyphens anymore and that was dont you think the greatest and most confusing or least able to understand gift of all.
• “If it weren’t for your face grease, those rescue crews never would have found us,” she said with a smile jagging her scarred cheek skin, and she slammed the igloo door in his face forever.
• In time the cemetery stone grew worn from the cold rains and only I, I never forgot the heroes who gave their lives to assure that all could come on and slam, and be welcomed, welcomed to the space jam.
• “By John Travolta’s maidenhead!”
• And now that we are at the end, you’ll notice this sentence has the only letter “u” in this entire book; pretty clever, right, asshole?
• Together their jowls slapped into the morning, each moist smaksmak ringing like lovers’ warmly cooed words in their ears.
• Did any of us truly appreciate Link, or did we just use him to wake the windfish because it was easy, because he was there, because he was a stranger who remembered to trade for the boomerang before Eagle’s Tower—the questions we are damned to torture ourselves with, trapped in the hideous timeless fate of survivors.
• tl;dr
• My lady, my companion, my Wilhelmina, my sobbing monster ghost, my glorious shining gristle speck of a woman!
• I had fondled my way out of the breast maze but for nothing, all for nothing.
• And if only all the dinner guests chattering mindlessly and gaily had not been ignoring their grim host, they would have seen the slight, upturned crook at the left corner of his crusted gray mouth, a gesture that gloated silently, that noiselessly and cruelly shrieked, revenge is a dish best served with dandruff in food.
• Me nom eh DAVIDDDD!!
• The warm pressure of his hand around hers filled her so utterly with reassurance and joy that she didn’t feel she had to apologize for barfing in his mouth for the second time that night.
• He whispered creakily, sadly, to no one at all, “Dear Jesus, it’s in every single orifice.”
• They died together, not of old age, not of disease; some would say of pure joy, others would say it was simply their time, but if you ask this old-timer, and I guess you will because you’re the one reading my book!, it was for the purest and simplest and oldest reason of all: their constant fucking.
• Thorsson’s bold, mighty baritone miraculously rang above the din of blood-screams and entrail-rippings of the battle: HOLD FAST, MEN, AND DON'T STOP UNTIL YOU’VE BITTEN THE BEAST’S COLON IN HALF!