Benedict Wonderdash: Greatest Writer in the World

Dear reader—dear pained, hapless, soulful reader—do not shake or fear in the throws of your endless search; the void of a literary-hole, gaping and wounded, not knowing what to read. Fear no longer: you have found your filling. I am Wonderdash, the greatest writer in the world, and I am God’s gift to earth; I am Shakespeare’s second-coming—the man manifest—and you will come to recognise the grandeur, the sweetness, and the finery woven within the cadence of my lines. Lines so fine, so pure, they will rupture your colon and prolapse your bottom. So please: Join me on my journey—take my hand and we will leap and weep and laugh and love, and find ourselves on the way, ever-young and ever-free. I write heaty erotica, Harry Potter fan-fiction, and anime shorts. Check it out!

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Bob Ross Remixed | Happy Little Clouds | PBS Digital Studios

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I leave you with this, friends.

Sincerely,

Benedict Wonderdash

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An Except From My Latest Piece: ‘Hagrid And Ron Go To Town’

Ron searched for the beast. For days upon days, years upon years, Ron searched for the beast: a beast to protect him from his bullies (Malfoy, Crab, and that black boy they added in the last two movies.) Ron knew Hagrid kept many—Hogwarts’s groundskeeper and animal-fucker—and Ron wanted to keep one for himself (so long as it wasn’t a spider, LOL.)

Ron walked down the grounds and into Hagrid’s hut; Hagrid sat.

“Hagrid, I’m looking for a beast!” he said. “The biggest, mightiest beast you can find.”

“Oh, well, you came to the right place then, Ron. I hold the mightiest beast right here in this hut.”

“Really?” Ron asked.

“Oh, aye,” Hagrid said and he leaned forward. “Are Harry or Hermione with you?”

“No,” Ron said, pining. 

Hagrid huffed and shook his head. “What a shame. What a damn shame,” he said. “They’d love to see this beast, but ah well, Ron: I guess you’re the only one who’ll see it. Only for you.”

Ron closed his eyes; Hagrid readied his surprise. Ron sat, waiting and waiting, and Hagrid whipped out the beast and Ron looked and discovered Hagrid’s second beard—just as hairy, curly, and bushy—but holding within the black fur, deep and dark, growled the beast Ron looked for: Hagrid’s Penis. Hagrid bent over and whispered the words: “I’m going to rupture your anus with my massive bear cock, Harr—I mean, Ron.” He growled. “I”M GOING TO RUPTURE YOUR ANUS!”

[FIN]

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Bitchez be crazy

Benedict Wonderdash

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Woeful Wonderdash

Wonderdash apologises for his recent absence. He has been sitting on the throes of melancholy, up all night, staring at the knife, and it hampers his mind and his writer’s fruition. I know it may surprise some of you: a man filled with such greatness is also filled with such doubt; however, in the words of the great Kanye West (lord and saviour of hip-hop): “Name one genius who ain’t crazy.”

Shit’s real, bruh-bruh.

Regardless, I wish you all well and hope I recover from my stupor and once again find my creative spurt, and you will find yours, and we can join hands once more, rolling on the laps and tides of our lives, forever writing and forever happy. Good night.

Sincerely,

Benedict Wonderdash

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Writing Tip 001

Be me.

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Here is excerpt of my masterful calligraphy. Absolutely exquisite, as you can see. 

[desperatelyseekingwords]

Do your books also consist of dank memes and 3 frame gifs, or is that only your tumblr? For, if it is the former, I would be most interested in reading. Sincerely, Benedict Wonderdash.

thank you kindly, mr wonderdash. perhaps one day i will write my all-gif novel opus, but until then i have two books published by hachette, suitable for children aged eight and over and all adults with excellent taste and a working funny bone: the d’evil diaries and hell’s belles

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I look forward to it! Unfortunately, I’m under eight, so I cannot enjoy your others. 

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You’re fired, Giles! You’re fired!

Unfortunately, I’ve had to release my man-servant, Giles, from my service. On the eve of the ide of the year, I sat writing, writing, writing, finishing my most recent and wonderful piece: ‘Ginny and the Twins Go To Town.’

“What a fine specimen!” I said to myself. “I need to wash down my words with a sherry and commence the night’s celebration, for it is fine and true and just,” and so I strode to find my man-servant, Giles, for the beverage.

“Giles!” I shouted to the halls, but no answer. “Giles!” I repeated, but no answer. I walked through the mansion, searching and shouting, and approached his room. “He must be in here,” I thought, and so I opened the door and there, sitting on the seta, brash and bold and horrid, sat Giles, reading Fifty Shades of Grey—dick in hand, gag in mouth with a rope around his urethra.

“By God, Giles!” I said. “You filthy fiend; you darned devil; you rotten scoundrel! I bought you that gag and rope, but I did not expect it to be used for low-brow filth such as Fifty Shades of Grey. How could you? How could you?”

I fired him on the spot.

So, if you’re an unemployed layabout looking for work, I’m looking for another man-servant, and would be happy to interview you for your services. Ball and bondage included. ;)

Sincerely,

Benedict Wonderdash

[mindblowingfactz]

A writer was upset with an online review of his book, so he traveled to Scotland, hunted down the reviewer, went to the store she worked at, and hit her in the back of the head with a wine bottle. (source)

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I admire this man for his passion and his vigour and his love for his art.

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Actual Conversation

Wonderdash’s Detractors: You are not the greatest writer in the world; you are a pretentious, overly aloof swine who would rather end his life than admit but a bit of self-doubt--your erotica is simply ghastly, and your popularity and acclaim is null, and the only thing you live through--this here tumblr--is but a fiction wrought within the throes of your mind.

Wonderdash: fuck u bitch

Wonderdash’s Detractors: :O

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Truuuuuu

Kanye’s latest drop is straight fire, bruh. Shit bangs. 

[lu-k-h]

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The object from which my wonder flows.

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Refutation of Literally’s (Mis)use

One night, on the eve of yester-month, my man-servant, Giles, ran in and shouted: “Wonderdash, Wonderdash, the object you warned us of: the rapture, the end, society’s impending doom—they’ve done it, they’ve done it, they’ve done it.”

I dropped my sherry. “By god, Giles! It cannot be!”

“Yes,” he nodded, hapless. “I tried to stop them but it was too late.”

“Are you sure now? Are you very sure?” I asked, hoping it not so.

“Yes,” he said, stoic. He approached me and grabbed my shoulders and said the words, known and feared, horrendous and frightful: “They’ve amended the definition of Literally.”

I passed out.

How could they? How fucking could they commit such an abolishment towards the English language? They sub-defined literally as having figurative usage.

Despite what dictionaries say, this can never be so.  If literally means figuratively, and figuratively means literally, the foundations of language break down. P will mean not P; 0 will mean 1; Wonderdash will mean sub-par. It doesn’t make any sense. Logic will be ruined!

But if you remain unconvinced, dear reader, incessant on your ignorance, I leave you with one thought: The laws of reason trump the sways of emotion; the words of Wonderdash trump the words of Oxford. So, if I ever see you, dear reader, using literally as figuratively, I will hunt you down, stalk you, and mall you with a bottle of fine-wine stolen from the place in which you shop. Fuck you.

Sincerely,

Benedict Wonderdash.

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Ask Me Anything; A Call To My Dear Fans

Dear reader: I know it is intimidating to speak to—even be in the presence of—the great writer Wonderdash; however, I am on this website for a reason. To connect. To share. To love. To speak with the humble and meek, and understand the ways of their wiles, so please, use the ask me anything function through my page, and we will interact, bond, laugh, wrought in the written yelps of our words. And maybe, if blessed, you will not only find out more about me (which would be a great honour), but you will also find out more about yourself (slightly less interesting.)

Sincerely,

Benedict Wonderdash

[staedtlers-and-stabilos]

Just a little penmanship porn. 

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Fine attempt, but nothing on my own penmanship, I'm afraid. If I'm quite honest--comparatively--it is straight trash.

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It is my birthday today. I’m 204. 

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Wonderdash’s Dictionary

I present to you (dear reader) a proposal.

Yester-night, I sat, trying to write, trying to let the greatness flow from my quill, my hand, my mind, but it would not come. The words would not move. They, instead, plunged and rotted in me, for I sat lost, unsure of the precise object to use, for no current one in the English language could encompass the wonder and the beauty I wanted to convey.

So, I sat back, pondering the problem, and thought:

If Shakespeare, the most tactful and idyllic writer of his time, could make up words, why can’t I—his true-born and rightful successor—follow suit? I am but of a great creativity of word and letter, and I often find myself lacking in the exact precise word required to convey my exact precise emotion, so the addition would ease my pain.

So, I decided. Wonderdash would form his own words; Wonderdash would form his own dictionary. I set to work, and here I present to you a few already established words (already sent to the Oxford Press for nexter-year’s print) below:

Nexter: Next

Boldagash: Wine-induced erectile dysfunction.

Tutance: That feeling you get when your servant, Giles, is taking too long with supper. For fuck’s sake, Giles!

These are but a few mere suggestions. I expect Oxford to get back to me nexter-day; however, for now I will sip on this vintage until I go boldagash, and hope (for GIle’s sake) that I do not go tutance on the waves of my springs. I hope to see all these in common usage before my inevitable suicide.

Sincerely,

Benedict Wonderdash