blob: 952394f22a952739e2fe559fa9906c84d7ace441 [file] [log] [blame]
Copyright (c) 2012 The Chromium Authors. All rights reserved.
Use of this useless file is governed by a BSD-style license that can be
found in the LICENSE file.
This file is used for making non-code changes to trigger buildbot cycles. Make
any modification below this line.
=============================================================================
Let's make a story. Add one sentence for each commit:
CHAPTER 1:
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at
occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which
swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along
the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that
struggled against the darkness. A dark figure emerged.
It was a Domo-Kun. "What took you so long?", inquired his wife.
Silence. Not noticing his silence, she continued, "Did Mr. Usagi enjoy the
waffles you brought him?" "You know him, he's not one to forego a waffle,
no matter how burnt", he snickered.
The pause was filled with the sound of thunder.
CHAPTER 2:
The syrup was as dark as night, and just as runny.
The Domo-Kun shuddered, remembering the way Mr. Usagi had speared his waffles
with his fork, watching the runny syrup spread and pool across his plate,
like the blood of a dying fawn. "It reminds me of the time --" he started, as
his wife cut in quickly: "-- please. I can't bear to hear it.". A flury of
images coming from the past flowed through his mind.
"You recall what happened on Mulholland drive?" The ceiling fan rotated slowly
overhead, barely disturbing the thick cigarette smoke. No doubt was left about
when the fan was last cleaned.
There was a poignant pause.
CHAPTER 3:
Mr. Usagi felt that something wasn't right. Shortly after the Domo-Kun left he
began feeling sick. He thought out loud to himself, "No, he wouldn't have done
that to me." He considered that perhaps he shouldn't have pushed him so far.
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so cold and sarcastic, after the unimaginable
horror that had occurred, just the week before.
Next time, there won't be any sushi. Why sushis with waffles anyway? It's like
salmon in a cereal bowl.
CHAPTER 4:
The taste of stale sushi in his mouth the next morning was unbearable. He
wondered where the sushi came from. He tries to recall the cook's face.