How About a Story...?

[deathandirony]

That should...make things a little warmer between all of you and me. This is a short tale I wrote with my friend, (yes, yes, I do have friends) every other paragraph. Meaning he wrote the first, I wrote the second, and so on. It gets quite interesting.

 

One dreary overcast night in England a boy shuffled down the sidewalk. He was alone, but still had the vague idea of not wanting to be noticed, and he walked with his head down. His eyes skirted back and forth across the concrete, never really seeing where he was going but still knowing the way. He was heading toward who knows where, not a place in a physical sense, maybe an idea. A stereotypical vision of a warm glowing home, where there was a fire in the fireplace, people sharing love, stories, kinship. But no, all he had was a bleak landscape of looming gray warehouses. He pressed on, his pace slowing, what little warmth he had was gone.

 

Suddenly, out of the snowy hedge he walked alongside of, a walrus with an eye patch saw it’s perfect opportunity, its one chance in a million. The boy rubbed his eyes, which were in pain from walking directly toward the sun, whose rays were cruel and merciless. This temporary distraction was enough to allow the large sea mammal to dive out from its hiding place, a small clearing in the bushes, a spot where the leaves had been brushed out of place. The boy had a strange wisdom in his eyes. The spiraling colors and shapes of his eyes showed pure, remarkable genius that could never be understood by anyone.

The walrus had quite a history with the boy. And while they had once been friends, the boy had found himself in a horribly coincidental and unrealistic situation, the solution of which was obvious: he had to betray the walrus. This resulted in the end of their friendship and the loss of the walrus’ eye. But that’s another story. All that is important here is that the walrus had sat for years in his evil lair, (catastrophic childhood events had caused him to grow up slightly evil) plotting against the boy. And now, as the boy wandered aimlessly, as always, the walrus finally got his revenge. He attacked him from the bush, tearing the boy’s left arm off with his shining white tusk.

 

The walrus, seeing as how he had done enough damage, left the boy there to die. The walrus jumped into the bushes he had been hiding in, took two steps and fell off the cliff that was behind them. The was a faint splat and a circular pattern of blood and gore on the rocks below. The boy lay there, bleeding profusely out of his stump of an arm. He started to become dizzy and euphoric from loss of blood. He started to laugh a cynical laugh that only he understood. BAM. A linebacker from the Cowboys ran up and blasted the boy in a crushing leg tackle. The tackle flipped the boy over and broke both of his legs. The linebacker got up and examined the blood and bone chips slowly hardening onto his jersey. He then promptly threw the boy through the window of a warehouse, breaking the boys wrist and jaw as he hit the ground. The boy started to cough up blood, choked, and blood spurted out of his nostrils.

 

Naturally, at this point, the warehouse exploded.

An extremely satisfying ball of flame lit up the night sky, and thousands of tiny chips of warehouse and child came pouring down from the gray, puffy clouds. A badger, who happened to reside in the hellish community of run-down buildings, got a little piece of the boy’s chin in his eye, and that’s one of the most painful things in the world to get into your eye. The badger felt a terrible burning, which spread from his eye to the rest of his body. In the history of the universe, only three badgers have screamed out in absolute pain. The first time was when a psychotic mime had drilled a golden screw into a badger’s throat. The second was when I accidentally stepped on my pet badger’s tail. And the third was when someone tried to feed a badger ice cream. This doesn’t directly have anything to do with this story, but I felt it was necessary for you to know. Anyway, this badger managed to get the chin out of his eye, but, tragically, he spontaneously combusted the next day. The lump of charcoal, feeling somehow responsible for all this, and therefore quite guilty, decided to make up for his sins by eating three pounds of ground beef. Then he ripped someone’s face off.

 

The lump of charcoal strangely wasn't satisfied by all of this, so he grew legs and went to a nitro glycerin factory. He bought a gallon of it and walked off, trying to figure out what to do next. He decided to rent a helicopter. He rolled down the hill and stopped at the airport, there he met Jim, the friendly helicopter pilot. Jim asked what was in the bucket so the piece of charcoal promptly broke Jims nose and shot him in the face with a revolver. The charcoal pocketed the revolver and hoisted himself up to the heli. Then he flew up up up! Over the school, and he kicked the nitro out of the helicopter. The nitro glycerin blew up and incinerated most of the school, killing hundreds and sending adolescent arms and fingers flying all over. He laughed and spotted someone heroic saving a small child from the inferno. He shot them both.

 

In all the confusion, aliens came and took over the world. All important governmental buildings and national landmarks laid in ruins, and panic spread across the globe. A certain bank robber, worried he would die with a guilty conscience, slid through a crowd of screaming people into a church near his apartment. Okay, it was a chapel. A Las Vegas wedding chapel, at that. But it was the only one he could get to. After confessing the darkest secrets lurking within his soul to an Elvis impersonator, he felt much better, and vowed to spend the rest of his life uniting the world‘s troubled, gathering the misguided youth into peaceful harmony, helping angry world leaders to resolve conflicts less violently. Dogs would shake hands with postal workers, fast food employees would smile at patient, well-behaved customers, once selfish, snooty businessmen would invite sober, clean-shaven homeless people into their shelter, eating disorders would be no more, terrorist acts would be no more, hunting would be no more.

 

After seeing this image of a perfect earth, the ex-bank robber opened his eyes to find himself staring into a laser blaster of one of the aliens, who blew his head up with a chuckle. Apparently the aliens got bored right afterwards and went home, bringing all of our polar bears with them. While polar bears may not seem like a big deal, things were different with them gone…yes…the stealing of the polar bears was the beginning of the end.

Oh yeah, the aliens left one polar bear, which was promptly put in protective custody in what was left of the white house. Unfortunately the bear was made of active uranium, which was hooked onto a nuclear detonator in its skull. Its too bad that the president then swung a metal baseball bat at the bears forehead, detonating the bear and disintegrating everything within the 56 mile blast radius. Then Russia caught on fire.

 

At this moment in time, a massive tank of melted cheese was accidentally opened, causing tons of gallons of pressed milk curds to flood half of North America. All roads were extremely slippery, and, though police did their best to maintain order, a speeding minivan collided with a school bus, and they both flew out of their lanes into a truck stop, where four or five flammable chemical truck drivers were taking a rest. Hearing all the sound from above, a super intelligent species of simians, who had until that point lived underground, dug up to the surface to see what was going on. Finding that billions of other races existed here, not to mention great amounts of natural resources, they decided to kill all the smarter ones and live there themselves.

 

Then everything blew up.

 

 

 

Yes...I'm sure you all...enjoyed this...

[Alia]

Wow. Just.......wow.

[Yufster]

Unless this is some sort of twisted concept plot, that is certainly not Tim Schafer

[Ray Jones]

quite short.. errrm .. end?