Yes, I did that yesterday, because I'm trying to break the world record for how long you can keep writing after you're dead.
TPBM likes rock music.
The corpses are piled high around. Blood carpets the floor and flames scorch away the last remnants of humanity. The screams of the damned echo in my head. I smile. I am home.
Remember: the plot is nothing more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations. — Ray Bradbury