Chapter 1 Where's the A Nine?!
In the year 1823, or 1832, the guy writing it down also got confused, there lived a man named Meth. He was known for one thing: he owned exactly nine of something. Not nine cows, not nine coins. Just "a nine." People asked what it was, and Meth said, "It's a nine," and walked away.
One morning Meth stood in his backyard and counted his nine things. He got to eight. He counted again, still eight. He counted a third time, slower and with more feeling, and got eight again. That's when he yelled, "Where's the A nine?!" Nobody knows why he said "A nine." He was panicking, and panic does not care about grammar.
Then he saw it. Behind the shed, something was glowing. It was a small fire in the exact shape of a molecule, and it was just sitting there like it paid rent. Meth walked up, stared at it, and said, "Okay. That's new."
The fire flickered. Meth leaned in close. The fire flickered back. They stayed like that for an hour, a man and a fire in a silent staring contest. The fire won, mostly because Meth blinked first.
By then the villagers had gathered at the fence. The mayor cleared his throat and asked, "Meth, what is that glowing thing?" Meth stood tall, soot on his face, and said with total confidence, "Meth, A nine."
The villagers heard "Methanin" and gasped. A scribe wrote it down. A second scribe corrected it. A third scribe made it worse
The End.
