I do not know as to why I am attempting this once more, but I have a few minutes before I finish work, so why not?

Well, here goes:

Once upon a time there was a guy who was in front of a computer. He was trying to write as fast as he could as he wanted to see if he could write really fast. Of course, this was a fairly fruitless endeavour as he already could write really fast, and with few errors to boot. However, this was someone who for some reason wanted to see if he could go faster than he previously thought, spelling be damned!

So off he went. A key was struck, followed by another. This continued on. He ignored his job for some reason, and kept on banging away because he really wanted to see what he could come up with so long as he threw everything away other than the desire to type as quickly as possible and see what came out of the result.

He kept on typing away, sweat forming on his head and slowly pouring down his face and onto the keys, causing traction to reduce and making him slip up a little more than intended. However, the heat from his fingers moving really quickly made the sweat evaporate really fast and so on he went.

There was little danger, little risk and little time for faffing about.

He kept on racing, wearing out those keys far faster than they had ever before.

It was as if he was possessed by something that was beyond him. Some sort of determination that was beyond the usual procrastination.

There was a desire to succeed far better than he had ever ever succeeded before and so he raced on into the night, well after his shift had finished, continually banging away to see if he could get to the end before the timer beat him to the end.

It was intense, but only in his mind. All that the people around him could hear was the banging of the keyboard as he worked himself into a frenzy, hitting the keys faster and faster, trying to race against time in a race where he was the only competitor.

When the seat adjustment came in, it threw everything out the window. Suddenly he was typing much slower. It was quite hard to keep a good angle of body to desk and his fingers began to hurt, yet he pushed on through these dangerous trials and tribulations, for there was something to reach and he was going to reach i0t as soon as he could, danger be damned.

There was a second wind and soon the right position was once more found.

The typing was as intense as it was furious. He kept on going, pushing on through the whole thing and soon there was some sort of success.

He decided to slow down a bit because his fingers were hurting.

There would be success eventually.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:20:76

So I was writing about my attempt to write faster than usual whilst the attempt was in action and it came out somewhat messy.

This is also  partially fictitious.

Written at work.