The Number One Best-Selling Novel (of all time)

Twas a sultry summer night. Atop the electronic keyboard held a book of songs titled "Performance Plus: Classical Piano Solos." Fur Elise was a song designed for players at 3rd grade level who wanted to impress. Everybody knows that tune. The wonky lampshade complimented the drooping cactus on the window sill, while the mini ironing board laying on the floor and the overflowing ashtray completed the picture. It would be nice to say that the lazy inhabitant of this room was fashionably messy in an arty, bohemian way, but the truth was that she lived an utterly conventional lifestyle consisting of eating, sleeping, working, Facebooking, and beering in Newtown.

But hark! A knock at the door! (Choose your own adventure. Do you a: answer the door wearing nothing but your poker-dotted underpants, b: answer the door only after dressing, or c: not answer the door.) Our non-bohemian inhabitant threw on some clothes and answered the door. She found standing in front of her who else but the crazy AH neighbour who chucked a psycho when someone parked in his spot. 

OK I'm out of inspiration. PS I'm not wearing only undies HAHAH