By David, Christy, Meredith and Annie (unless, of course, this story is insulting to you in any way, in which case Kevin wrote it)
Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess named Princess Christa. Princess Christa was tall and funny and smart and witty and kind and undoubtedly rich and a bit of a hippie and rather sarcastic at times but still an all-around good person. Princess Christa and her formerly alive family ruled over a kingdom called Xafriaf. She lived in a beautiful castle called the HippieHollow. Princess Christa had a bunch of friends. There was Navid, the elf (though he was widely believed to really be a chipmunk), who enjoyed frolicking in the woods and hurling stones at wary passerby. Ardith, the castle fairy jester, often aided in Navid’s chucking of the stones. There was Carolyn, the redheaded handmaiden, who spoke in a refreshing accent. Zephan was the knight whose secret love affair with Carolyn was strictly forbidden by his parents, who by now were old geezers, but he respected them just the same (for some insane reason).
Prett was the wizard with cool weenis powers. Shelly was the castle scholar, Karis was the librarian, Irene was the prophet, Corgan was the incompetent cook, and Devin was the town drunk. There was Jake and Alec, the stable boys. The ladies-in-waiting were Sharon and Stephie.
Then, not a friend but a foe, was Kizzy, the wigga (not saying the ‘r’ or it would be un-gansta) witch. Kizzy fancied herself a sorceress, a sort of dark royalty. Her dwarf slaves carried her through the woods each day between the Black Manor and the spring of eternal youth, where she drank to stay young eternally (hence the name spring of eternal youth). She thought she was the coolest thing. Kizzy’s second-in-command was Kori, a natural Seer. On her side Kizzy also had Rochelle and Stefanny, the cliché hags, and Dustin, her sarcastic and funny but completely whipped love-slave.
One Thursday morning Ardith and Navid (himself being a dwarf slave but got caught up in the rebellion) (wait no I thought he was an elf) (well whatever just continue, dammit) were out harmlessly heaving stones at passerby. They were safely hidden behind a bush in a wood, but would never get caught anyway, because they never got caught. Because everyone knows that chipmunks are sneaky – and adorable with the exception of Navid’s mom (ooh diss). Irregardless… Anyway…
Navid threw a particularly large stone, which hit a particularly large head. A whiny shriek rang through the wood. “Who threw that?”
Ardith and Navid immediately recognized the voice as that of Kizzy. The two glanced at each other before burrowing further into the bush. The noise of crackling leaves led Kori to discover the two rock-heavers. She then flipped her hair
“There,” squealed Kori in her annoyingly high and unnatural voice that sounded like it belonged in a two-year-old’s body. She flipped her hair. “Seize them.” Then she flipped her hair again.
Two poor little dwarves leapt up and grabbed Ardith and Navid by the wrists. Navid was hardly taller than his dwarf, being an elf. But Ardith had to lean down quite a bit and by the time she had walked over to Kizzy’s open carriage she was tipping over.
“Who threw that?” Kizzy shrieked again.
Ardith and Navid exchanged looks before shrugging. Then Kori flipped her hair.
“If you do not speak,” Kizzy thundered, “I will find other ways of discovering who threw that acorn at me.”
“It was a rock,” said Navid and Ardith in unison.
“Aha!” screeched Kizzy. “You knew what it was, therefore you must have thrown it!”
“Excuse me, m’lady,” said Rochelle. “I doubt they could have both thrown it.”
Kizzy frowned. “Do you dare contradict me?” she demanded. Kizzy stood up and, tripping over the hem of her overly dramatic black dress, clambered out of the carriage. Then Kori flipped her hair yet again.
Rochelle quickly stuttered that, no, contradicting such a lovely sorceress is forbidden, mere handmaidens are not worth sorceress’ noticing, and is that a new hairdo? It looks nice. The hair comment made Kori think of her hair. Then she flipped it.
Satisfied, Kizzy sat back down.
By now the sun was beginning to set. Soon it would be dark, at which point it would be near impossible to navigate through the woods. Kizzy, of course, didn’t realize this, but Rochelle did and whispered it into Kizzy’s ear.
“That’s what I said,” said Kizzy. She pointed her staff at Kori, who flipped her hair. “Tell me who threw this rock at me.” Having said this she sat down and began compulsively combing her hair.
Kori bowed. “Surely, Sorceress,” while (now purposefully trying to annoy the authors) flipping her hair again. Kizzy then strode over to where Navid and Ardith were standing. She grabbed Ardith by the chin and stared intensely into her eyes. After a moment Kori announced, “The badly dressed one did nothing.”
“I resent that!” cried Ardith as she crossed her arms.
“Wanna stop talking now?” asked Kori, smirking sarcastically but failing to send across the right look because she was a prep and preps can’t do sarcasm well. Then she flipped her hair.
“No, I don’t.”
“That’s too bad.”
Ardith grinned and said loudly, “Your mom’s too bad… IN YOUR PANTS!” She then stood to the side with a satisfied grin.
“Eww, sick-o!” cried Kori. The anti-prep comment made her hair frizz, so she strutted (not paced) in a circle with a ridiculous number of hair products.
Navid was now shaking. By mere process of elimination, he was pinned down as guilty.
Kori grinned (after her humiliating bad-hair moment), showing a mouth full of ridiculously large-seeming teeth after having her braces removed. “Shall we assume the elf is the culprit?”
Kizzy stopped brushing her hair for long enough to say, “No, check him anyway. I like watching them quiver in fear.”
Navid, despite his fear, said, “That’s a sick kind of amusement, you know. You should see a specialist.” Look who’s talking, Navid.
Kizzy stood again. “I need no therapy!”
“But m’lady,” said Stefanny, “You’re already in therapy.”
Kizzy’s eye began twitching. She pointed her staff at Stefanny and spoke a few Latin-sounding words, but with no result. She tried again. Nothing happened.
“Roast her, damn you!” Kizzy cried at the staff. A bit of smoke spewed from the end, but that was the extent of the magic. Kizzy looked about her in confusion. “Off with her head!” she finally cried, jabbing her finger into the air. Air rhymes with hair, thought Kori. Then she flipped her hair.
The two dwarves not cutting off Navid’s circulation at the wrist performed a similar capture on Stefanny.
“Shall I check the elf now, Sorceress?” asked Kori as she flipped her hair.
“Oh, go on with it.”
Kori grabbed Navid’s chin while flipping her hair and stared at his eyes. “He threw the stone, Sorceress.”
“As I thought,” boasted Kizzy. Navid felt the need to point out that seeing as he was the only suspect left, it could have been no other. (It was ME! Just kidding. Well, obviously I was just kidding since that exclamation seems to be a disembodied one.)
Kizzy grinned her stupid grin. “I shall not even dignify that with a response.”
“Jeez!” said Navid. “If you’re going to say something clever and insulting, at least make it up yourself. I mean, really. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard someone say that, well, then, I’d surely be able to afford doing something better with my time than throwing rocks at losers who think they are witches or poking Princess Christa or talking to chipmunks.”
“Yeah,” said Ardith with a mock attitude.
“Is that a mock attitude?” asked Kizzy, motioning for the dwarves to resume the carriage pulling. She turned her head away from Ardith. “Tie the three of them up.”
“Me?” cried Ardith. “I didn’t do anything, you repulsive hole of dill!” Isn’t that a pickle? Do they even have holes? No, stupid. And then the author remembered that the characters couldn’t hear her.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Kori, who nervously flipped her hair. He then got up and ran into the woods, an angry mob following.
Stefanny, Ardith, and Navid were tied with rope (supposedly magical rope, you know, but Kori was the one to put a spell on it, and we all know how incompetent Kori can be… In fact, it probably wasn’t magical because she probably got sidetracked by her hair) to the back of the carriage and blindfolded. Why were they blindfolded? Well, because that’s how the story goes, dillhole.
“Take note,” said Kizzy to Kori, “They are to be executed at dawn.” Why is it always dawn, you ask? Because, again, that’s how the story goes, dillhole.
After trudging along Ardith and Navid were locked in the jail cell across from the one Stefanny was in.
The two sat down. “Haha.” Ardith realized, “Kizzy’s in therapy.”
She and Navid had a good laugh but soon had to admit that they were freaked.
“God this sucks,” Ardith said.
“Your mom sucks… IN YOUR PANTS!!!” Navid answered.
“But seriously. This is really bad,” Ardith said.
“Your mom is really bad… IN YOUR PANTS!!!” Navid answered again.
“Oh, my God. SHUT UP, NAVID!” Ardith yelled.
“Fine,” Navid said.”
“Ardith… Ardith, is that you?” a voice said from the next cell over.
Ardith said uneasily, “…Maybe…”
The voice came again: “This is Zephan, the knight whose secret love affair with Carolyn is strictly forbidden by my parents, who by now are old geezers, but I still respect them for some unfathomable reason.”
“Oh, hi Zephan,” Ardith said.
“…So what are you in for, Navid?” asked Zephan, peering through the barred window between their cells.
“Chucking rocks at Kizzy.”
“Oh,” Zephan said. “Then why are you in my parents’ jail?”
“Why are you in your parents’ jail?” Navid asked.
“They caught me secretly making out in the secret passage with my secret lover, Carolyn,” Zephan said.
“They put you in jail?” Ardith asked.
“Yeah, they’re kind of overreacting,” Zephan answered.
“Well, if we were chucking rocks at Kizzy, why are we in your parents’ jail?” said Navid.
“I dunno,” Zephan said.
“Maybe your parents have a secret alliance with Kizzy and all of… those… other guys,” Ardith said.
“Well,” said Zephan. “They are Canadian.”
“In that case, we have to escape and warn Princess Christa of the Lord and Ladies treachery,” Navid observed.
Ardith said, observing, “Nice observation.”
“I observed,” said Navid observantly.
“And how are we planning to escape?” butt in Zephan.
“Easy. With my awesome possum elvish powers!” Navid gloated. “…Even though I’m a chipmunk.”
“Why didn’t you use them before?” Ardith asked.
Navid replied, “I was having too much fun.”
“Weirdo,” Zephan said.
“Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila Ms. Salila!”
All of a sudden, the door blew out and it was abnormally loud.
“Quick, someone will hear that,” Navid said. He remembered that Zephan was still stuck in the next cell. “Stand back, Zephan. I’ll let you out too.”
“No,” Zephan said. “My parents locked me in here. They’ll get mad if I leave.”
“Dickchin,” Navid muttered under his breath.
A while later, off at the kingdom stable, which was closer to the HippieHollow than it was to Kizzy’s manor, which sadly meant that if Kizzy wanted her unicorn the nice people of the HippieHollow had to look upon her ugly face…
“You. Stable boy.” Kizzy screeched with a yawn. “Fetch my unicorn, Starfyre.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.
“You mean like on Teen Titans?” Alec asked.
“No, not like on Teen Titans.”
“But there is a Starfyre on Teen Titans, you realize.” Alec laughed.
“I know that there is a Starfyre on Teen Titans!” shrieked Kizzy.
Alec faked a thoughtful face. “So you do watch Teen Titans. I thought it was just a rumor.”
“I do not watch Teen Titans.” Kizzy said again, “Fetch my unicorn.”
“Get your own horse!” Alec said, sticking out his tongue.
“How dare you defy me?” Kizzy ran toward Alec, her arms outstretched and hands prepared to strangle him.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, but mostly fortunately, Kizzy tripped over her outrageously pink pouffy dress and fell into a big pile of unicorn shit.
“Hahahahahahahahahaha!” Alec laughed. He realized as he sprinted out of the stable to the North Tower of the HippieHollow that Kizzy now wanted to kill him. Alec climbed the 7500 steps (he knew how many which made it seem like a lot more) to the door on the top floor – hey that rhymed. He knocked on it, gasping for breath.
The door creaked open and a suspicious young man appeared, more like a suspicious old child actually, his weird greenish, yellowish, brownish eyes narrowed in annoyance. “What do you want?” he growled, glaring at Alec.
“It’s Kizzy! She’s going to… kill… me!” panted Alec.
The door flung open and the strange man, now clearly a wizard, pointed his arm-shaped scepter (called the Weenis Wand of Wonder) at Alec. “I AM PRETT! WEENIS WIZARD! I, USING THE INCERDIBALY KICKASS POWER OF MY oh holy WEENIS WILL SAVE YOU FROM THE EVIL WITCH, KIZZY!” he roared, his cape flapping behind him.
Alec fell to his knees, bowing to the Weenis Wizard. “Thank you, O Prett, King of all weenises.”
“But first,” Prett continued, “I must find the elf Navid and the fairy jester, Ardith. Without them, my weenis is nothing!”
Alec’s face fell with a frown (hey alliteration and hey personification and hey… oh wait that’s all). “But they’ve been missing for a while now. We’re trying to find them”
The Weenis Wand of Wonder clattered to the floor; dropped from Prett’s hand. “I feel my weenis powers failing already… I… save them…” He gasped, staggering across the room and falling into a chair.
“You can count on me!” Alec said fruitily, saluting Prett and frolicking off into the sunset to find Navid and Ardith.
Navid and Ardith, after successfully escaping from their prison using Navid’s Ms. Salila powers, were now puzzling on how to get across the moat surrounding Zephan’s parents’ mansion.
“Navid?” came a voice from behind them. “Ardith?” Navid and Ardith turned around.
“Carolyn!” they exclaimed in unison.
“My lover, my knight, Zephan! Do you know where he is?” She wiped a tear from her eye. “We weren’t finished with our make-out session! I won’t be well again until we’re finished.”
She had a point. She looked horrible.
“Yeah…” Navid began.
“WHERE IS HE?” Carolyn screamed, grasping Navid’s neck and shaking the poor elf violently.
“Prison… ask… help from… Ms. Salila…” Navid choked, desperately trying to pull Carolyn’s fingers off from around his neck.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Carolyn. He then got up and ran into the woods.
And Carolyn released Navid in surprise. “Zephan!” As Navid rubbed his tortured throat, Carolyn ran off toward the jail, crying her lover’s name, desperately.
“Navid!” Ardith exclaimed, drawing his attention back to the moat. “There’s something in the water…” duh duh, duh duh, duhduhduhddeee (that being from JAWS, so it is predestined that something bad was about to happen). She bit her nails instinctively. There was indeed something in the water. Every few seconds, a fin could be seen, skimming the surface. Shadows and shapes of a strange creature were visible through the murky moat water.
“Sharks?” Navid guessed.
“Alligators?” Ardith suggested.
But it was neither.
Don’t ask the author how she knows that.
Ardith crept closer to the edge, trying to figure out what guarded the moat. Closer, closer… duh duh… you know the rest.
“Ardith!” Navid cried as he watched her small fairy mass fall, tumbling into the water.
“Ardith… no…” His voice trailed off as his eyes began to water. His only acorn-throwing, rock-chucking companion! He turned away from the water in case there was going to be any lopping of the head.
Navid started as he felt a sharp jab in his back. “Ow!” He twisted around and saw Ardith’s grinning face. “Damn your poking power… Ahh!” His phrase was interrupted by his scream. “You… ahhhh!”
Behind Ardith, growling, was a hairy, shark-finned, buck-toothed, butt-naked creature.
“You… it… ahh!” Navid couldn’t seem to stop screaming.
“Don’t worry, Navid, they’re friendly,” Ardith explained, scratching the creature behind the ear fondly. “They’re gonna help us.”
“B-but what are they?”
“They’re water-chipmunks! They can help you restore your Salila powers!” Ardith said, smiling excitedly.
“Yes!” Navid agreed. The chipmunks, Ardith and Navid set to work on restoring Navid’s power of Salila.
Meanwhile, back near the HippieHollow, a figure darted through the wood. It seemed to know the forest well, for it never crushed its head on a low-hanging branch. So, for its lack of crushing, it couldn’t possibly have been the following people: Princess Christa, Ardith, Navid, Carolyn, Prett, Irene, Corgan, Devin, Dustin, Alec, Kizzy, Kori, Nicolette, Rochelle, or George Dubya Bush.
It never ceased in its running as it leapt through the Wall of Peace and into the castle. (The Wall of Peace is a specially designed forcefield around the HippieHollow that only lets through people with naturally peaceful hearts. Or a few bucks, whichever applies at the time.)
The figure was Jake, the stable hand.
“Stephie!” he panted, slowing to a stop in front of a lady-in-waiting. “Quick! Take me to Princess Christa.”
Stephie showed Jake to the garden, where Princess Christa was performing acts of peace.
“Hey, man,” she greeted him, flashing a peace sign. “What’s up?”
Jake took a moment to notice that Jethro Tull was playing in the background. He commented, “If this is a fairytale, isn’t there supposed to be, like, fife music or something?”
Princess Christa frowned. “Are you kidding me?” Jake shook his head. Princess Christa said, “I don’t know anyone who plays the fife. And Jethro Tull has some awesome fluting-ness in it. Besides, Jethro Tull is so kickass.”
Jake considered the music. “I guess,” he agreed. He then remembered why he was there. “Princess Christa!” he said. “Navid and Ardith have been captured by Kizzy!”
“Egad,” said the princess lightly, allowing a bird to rest on her outstretched arm. She watched the bird flutter a bit for a minute.
“Princess…?” Jake prompted.
“Well, we’ll have to go save them, then, won’t we?” interrupted Princess Christa as the bird flew away. “We’ll need help… Round up as many handmaidens and stable hands as you can. I have to go consult Irene before we leave.”
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Jake. He then got up and ran into the woods.
The princess turned and left, her long hippieriffic hair (hair that was definitely not short or cut or remotely un-long in any way) swishing from side to side.
(Just to let you know: That was the element of the mocking on Princess Christa’s part, considering that the one being mocked is also the one doing the mocking.)
Jake hesitated before running off to find help.
Irene the Seer lived at the top of the West Tower. Prett lived in the North Tower, the library and Karen the librarian’s quarters were in the East Tower, and the South Tower had been locked since before Princess Christa and her amigos had moved in, so its contents were unknown.
Irene kept the fire going all day and only left to hang out with the stable hands. She was an excellent artist, however irrelevant that statement was, and frightened most young children. Actually, she frightened most everybody.
Princess Christa knocked on the door. A voice came from within the room. “Intrude.”
The door creaked as the princess opened the door and went inside. Irene was sitting on her window seat, staring outside and stroking some kind of animal (a cat or something maybe, I don’t know, use your freaking imagination, you square).
“You want to know where Navid and Ardith are being held prisoner,” stated Irene.
“Yes,” answered Princess Christa.
“That was an observation, not a question, idiot!” Irene said.
“Nyah.” The princess stuck out her tongue. “Maybe I was just agreeing with your observation.”
“You weren’t,” Irene said confidently.
“Damn you and your psychicness.” Princess Christa picked up Irene’s crystal ball from the table and took it over to the Seer. “Tell me.”
Irene looked into the crystal ball for a long time. After a few minutes the princess began to get bored and started humming ‘Duel of the Fates,’ only to have Irene snap at her to shut it. Then the princess began humming ‘American Riversongs’ but shut herself up when she realized what she was doing.
“They have escaped already,” said Irene after an eternity. “But they’re gonna be caught again.”
“By Kizzy?” asked Princess Christa.
“No, by the frickin’ squirrels,” said Irene sarcastically. “Yeah, by Kizzy, what’d you think?”
Princess Christa thought up an immensely intelligent remark, I swear, but didn’t say it out loud so it’s not worth writing down but she definitely was going to say something clever. The reason that it is not recorded is that it was too intelligent a remark and not that the writer of this portion of the story couldn’t think up a comment of something. Pshaw. “Okay, then. Come with us.”
Irene looked at her skeptically. “No way.”
The princess frowned. “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
(Yes, that was stolen from Austin Powers Goldmember when Austin was recollecting his father’s absence at the giving of his International Man of Mystery award and when the flashback ended Dr. Evil was finishing peeing (he was in prison) and said mockingly, “Boo-frickety-hoo.”)
“I know your secret,” Princess Christa warned.
Irene started. “Damn.” She thought for a moment. “Wait. I know your secret too,” she realized. “My knowledge of your secret cancels out your knowledge of my secret.”
Then, somewhere in the distance, Kori flipped her hair.
Princess Christa cast about, looking for another reason why Irene should come. “Well,” she said. “Navid knows my secret now, so it doesn’t matter. And Navid knows your secret, too, and he’ll be pretty pissed when he finds out you didn’t even want to save him or anything.”
Irene crossed her arms. “Fine,” she said. “But only to protect my secret.”
The princess and Irene met Jake in the front hall. Jake had gotten Shelly the scholar, Karis the librarian, Corgan the cook (though why Jake would ever want Corgan to tag along was beyond comprehension) and a few random ladies-in-waiting and stable hands.
“Where’re Prett and Alec?” Irene asked.
Jake said solemnly, “Prett was passed out on his bed. I think all of his weenis powers are gone without Ardith and Navid. I couldn’t find Alec anywhere.”
“Dillholes,” said Princess Christa. “Well, I guess we have to go without them. Though I don’t know what we’ll do without Prett’s weenis powers. I guess we’ll think of something.”
“What about my powers?” cried Irene.
The princess looked at her and thought before saying, “Like I said. We’ll think of something.”
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Irene. He then got up and ran into the woods.
The group of people walked for a bit before running into Navid and Ardith along a path in the woods. There was much rejoicing. After the rejoicing they went back to the HippieHollow to party. Over the music Shelly realized aloud, “We never found Alec!”
Navid, Ardith and Princess Christa exchanged glances and then shrugged. “Whatever,” they said in unison.
Sharon was a bit distressed at the absence of Alec, but she got over it as soon as someone brought out Pin the Tail on the Donkey.
As we all know, in fairy tales there is always a bit of romance. Whatever, you know; at least here it’ll be funny.
After having been directed by Navid in the direct direction in which Zephan was directly directed, Carolyn ran off in search of him.
She finally found him, still locked in his parents’ jail. The keys were hanging on the wall next to his cell. Carolyn was too flustered to notice what a bad guard system there was.
“Zephan, my love,” she cried. “I have come to save you!” She reached through the cell bars and locked hands with him.
Zephan grinned but then shook his head. “I don’t want to disobey my parents,” he insisted.
Carolyn was prepared for this. “If you come out, I’ll make it worth your while,” she said.
Zephan raised his eyebrows. The male gender had not yet worked up a defense to this kind of persuasion. “Yeah, okay,” he said.
Carolyn took the keys from the hook and unlocked the cell. There was some saying hello that I will not go into right now for the sake of my sanity, and then they ran like hell.
“I got my bike out back,” Zephan said once they were outside. He suggested, “We could make a break for it.”
Carolyn frowned. “A bike.”
“A bike, like a ‘one person sits on it and pedals while the other person kinda hangs out and waits for something to happen while watching the first person ride away’ kind of bike?”
Zephan thought. “Yeah. But I got two.”
At this point the writer of this portion of the story had to use the bathroom, did, lost her train of thought, and had to change the direction of the story a bit. And her “delete” key was stuck. So forget you read the last few paragraphs.
Zephan and Carolyn had just come outside after escaping and saying hello and that sort of general mish mash. There were no bikes anywhere to be seen and that made Zephan very angry.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Zephan. He then got up and ran into the woods.
This made Zephan angrier. But he didn’t have long to be angry. Zephan was looking at Carolyn, about to say something (something stupid, I’m sure) when an arrow shot through the sky and pierced her heart.
“What the hell?” cried Zephan, undoubtedly trying and failing to sound tough. He looked into the trees in the general direction from where the arrow had been shot. “Damn Aborigines,” he said, spotting one.
Carolyn fell to a crumpled heap on the ground.
Zephan threw his arms up in the air and ran around in circles a few times, just to consume time. Then he paced for a bit. Then he ate an apple. Then he paced a bit more.
He finally said, “My Carolyn is dead. I shall carry her to her parents’ house and leave her on the doorstep because if I ring the doorbell they might blame me for it and then I’d be screwed and her mom talks with a strong accent and I can’t understand it so I’d rather not talk to her at all.” Zephan kneeled down and took Carolyn’s hand. “But first,” he said, “I shall avenge your death.”
Carolyn sat up. “I’m not dead yet.”
Zephan frowned. “Then I shall avenge your fatal wounding.”
Carolyn thought a bit. “Actually, I think I might pull through.”
“Then,” said Zephan, “I shall avenge your near-mortal wounding.”
Carolyn shook her head. “I think I’m all right to go with you.”
“Shh…” Zephan shushed her. He kissed her on the cheek. (I know you sappy chicks are thinking ‘Aww, he kissed her on the cheek. How sweet.’ Well, guess what. Get over it.) “Save your breath. Lie here calmly in your last moments as I slaughter the Aborigines. Fare thee well.”
And Zephan went off to get himself killed by Aborigines while Carolyn went home and had a taco before going to fiesta at the HippieHollow.
The party was great. Navid’s band played (they sucked) and everyone danced and mocked everyone else’s dancing. Carolyn was dancing with an ogre while Princess Christa took a break with Ardith to watch That 70’s Show.
The front door slammed. Everyone turned as the music stopped and Zephan, supposed to be dead, came marching along the crowd.
“Zephan!” shrieked Carolyn.
“Hey, man. Where’ve you been?” asked the princess, coming into the room and so definitely not completely baked.
“We thought you’d died,” said Carolyn, running over to Zephan and wrapping her arms around him.
The fiesta-goers pretended to be immersed in conversation or checking the time or trying to count the drinks they’d had as Carolyn and Zephan said hello. After they were finished there was a slight cough from someone in the crowd and the group returned their attention to Zephan.
“Carolyn!” he cried. “I was about to avenge your death and you left me for a dang quesadilla!”
“It was a taco,” corrected Carolyn.
“What the heck?” cried Zephan, his voice cracking and not coming back down. “You left me for a taco and you’re not even going to apologize? You – you – you person!”
“I was going to apologize,” said Carolyn. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” said Zephan, his voice still high and squeaky.
They apologized as the partiers incited conversation and checked their watches and counted drinks until the two were done.
“What gives?” Princess Christa asked Zephan as he gave Carolyn her gum back.
“The Aborigines were gonna kill me but I told them I was dating an Aussie and they let me go.”
Carolyn insisted, “I told you dating me was a good idea.”
“Nuh-uh,” said Zephan. “My parents still want to kill me.”
“Eh, whatever,” said Princess Christa.
Zephan said disbelievingly, “You wouldn’t care if I was dead?!?”
“Not much, no.” Princess Christa poked him on the shoulder.
Zephan threw up his hands. “I will smack you!”
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Princess Christa. He then got up and ran into the woods.
The front doors flew open again. Nicolette came into the HippieHollow. Nicolette was the only person who was friends with Kizzy and still accepted in the HippieHollow.
“Where’s the party?” Nicolette cried. “Raise the roof! Raise the roof! She looked at Carolyn and Zephan. “Ooh, a love connection. You know,” she said thoughtfully, “there are a lot of love connections here. There’s –“
Several people clapped their hands over her mouth at once. “Shh…” the group said in one voice.
“Nuff-o-that” exclaimed Princess Christa proudly in her hippieriffic vocabulary.
“Sor-ry!” said Nicolette indignantly.
“I-ya-hi-yah-I-ya-ho-yah,” Irene chanted.
“Are you sure this works?” Alec asked, watching Irene shake a maraca and hop around Prett on one foot. Prett was still unconscious and lying on the bed, having lost all of his weenis powers.
After an extremely long pause Irene answered, “…Yes.” She stopped her chanting and stared at Alec. “It should restore his weenis powers without the aid of Navid or Ardith.” She paused for a mind-boggling long time. “With the use of this cult ritual I have memorized, we should be able to channel Ms. Salila’s powers and make healthy his inner weenis.” She blinked really slowly…
Alec said, “So how long will this take? ‘Cuz I really got to get to Princess Christa’s spontaneous fiesta…”
“SILENCE!” Prett roared, rising from the bed. “I have AWAKENED!”
“Hahahahahahahahahaha!” Irene screamed, pointing at Prett.
“Why, lowly mortal, do you laugh at me?” Prett asked, tears forming in his freaky-colored eyes.
“Because my mom told me to always laugh in a situation when you don’t know what to say.”
“You wish your mom told you…uh … yeah… never mind,” Alec said.
“Well,” Irene began, but she never finished because at that moment, there was a crash and a bang and suddenly something was falling through the roof of Prett the Weenis Wizard’s (not to be confused with the wigga witch (also a w alliteration)) tower.
“Finally! They’ve come for me!” Irene shrieked, jumping about in excitement.
“You wish they’ve come for you!” Alec cried.
“It is…” Prett began. Suddenly, a dark shape burst forth from the something that fell through the roof.
The shape spoke: “Um, hi, before I capture you, do you have a place where I can wash my hands? Hand-washing is very important you know.”
“Ahh!” Irene screamed, falling onto the floor and clawing at her face.
“It’s… It’s… Mr. QUEER!” Alec gasped in a painful manner.
Prett, Irene and Alec dashed out of the door and sprinted down the tower stairs into the fiesta room. They ran through the party room, arms flailing, screaming, “Mr. Queer is here! Mr. Queer is here!” (Haha rhyme.)
Instantly the music stopped. The group fell silent and turned to the three newcomers. Alec insisted, “He’s coming! Hurry – save yourselves!”
The crowd immediately began shrieking and headed for the exits. Soon the only people left were Princess Christa, Navid, Irene, Carolyn, Zephan and Ardith.
“Come on, your highness,” urged Zephan. “We must leave.”
“No,” said the princess firmly. “I have to defend my fortress of hippie-ness.”
“Aye,” agreed Navid. “A place this hippieriffic should not be soiled by the immense gaiety of Mr. Queer.”
“Haha,” said Princess Christa.
“What?” asked Navid.
“You said ‘aye’. Like a pirate. Haha… Aye.”
“Woo!” cried Ardith, waving her hands in the air. The other five looked at her. “Sorry,” she muttered with a grin.
“Without Prett’s weenis powers we are incapable of overthrowing Mr. Queer’s aura of oddity,” pointed out Irene.
(Several bad alliterations later…)
“I have an idea,” said Princess Christa. “Zephan, go turn the water off. Carolyn, Navid, follow me.”
Ardith and Irene stood there, having no real impact on the story or plot at this pointing time and just kind of pointless characters consuming space, as Zephan went to cut off the water and Carolyn, Navid and the princess left the HippieHollow and headed to the stable. There they filled three buckets with mud and… shit… and lugged them back up to the castle. They dumped all three buckets around the base and doorframe at the bottom of thee staircase from the North Tower.
Soon Mr. Queer came prancing down the stairs with a pencil over his ear and his hands in his pockets. In his pleasant mood he didn’t look to see where he was going and placed each of his hands in the mud junk on the doorframe.
“Goodness!” Mr. Queer squealed. He took a deep breath and said to Princess Christa calmly, “Do you have anywhere I can wash my hands?”
The princess pointed to the kitchens. Mr. Queer dashed inside as Corgan the cook dashed out. “Run away!” Corgan cried, sprinting towards the exit.
After a moment there was a cry of terror from the kitchens. Mr. Queer came back out and said, “The sink isn’t working!” He scrambled outside in search of a sanitary body of water in which to cleanse his hands.
“Nice,” said Navid, pound-dog-ifying (gansta yo) everyone in the group.
The kitchen door slammed again and a very disgruntled person emerged from within. It was the grouchy old maid, who, spotting the mess on the doorframe, gave a shriek of frustration. Bubna cried, grabbing a mop and bucket from a closet, “I swear, if I have to clean crap from this floor one more time, I will quit this job and enslave you all.”
“Whatever,” said Princess Christa.
Bubna shook her fist at the group. “I should kill them all…” she muttered under her breath. “I’ll start with that Zephan kid…”
She grumbled off down the corridor… haha… corridor.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Bubna. He then got up and ran into the woods.
By now it was late and Zephan had to be getting home and everyone else stayed because they weren’t complete wusses. Zephan left, Carolyn raised her hand to her brow in despair, and Princess Christa shoved her to the side. “Get over it,” the princess said.
So now the only people left were Irene, Ardith, Carolyn, Navid and Princess Christa. They were bored. Princess Christa pulled out her Declaration of Boredom.
“Hey,” Navid suggested. “Let’s t.p. Kizzy’s house!”
The group unanimously agreed. Well, Carolyn didn’t agree, because despite her not being a goody-goody she still didn’t like to do bad things. She came though. They stopped at the Super K-Mart for some two-ply before going to Kizzy’s manor.
The five friends peered through Kizzy’s window. There was quite obviously a party going on, considering the dancing and the music and the food. And the sign that said ‘Party!’
“Dude. What the hell?” Princess Christa said. “She doesn’t live with her parents or anything and flippin’ has a dinner party? What self-respecting teen chick would choose classical over Zeppelin and tea sandwiches over community chip bowls filled with knock-offs?”
The rest considered her observation.
“Ah!” Princess Christa shrieked. “They’re waltzing!”
“Look away,” Ardith told her. “Just look away.”
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Ardith. He then got up and ran into the woods.
Over the next few minutes they effectively t.p.’d Kizzy’s manor. Then they made a run for it, even though the people in at the party were too busy counting steps to notice them.
The next morning there came a knock on the door. Bubna, being the only person in the castle awake before noon, answered it.
A tall, handsome young man stood straight and said to Bubna, “Good day, ma’am. My name is Timmy. I have been sent to request that you please shut off the forcefield surrounding your castle. I was the only person in our group to be able to cross it—”
Bubna butted in: “Shut your trap.” The young man stared at her. “Just wait a minute,” she said, shutting the door in his face.
Bubna walked through the HippieHollow to the room where Princess Christa, Navid, Carolyn, Ardith and Irene were conked out on the floor. She surveyed them critically before yelling “WAKE UP!”
Everyone in the room jumped up, scared. They each took a moment to stop their hearts from beating so fast and then another to realize where they were. “Damn,” said Princess Christa, rubbing her head. She asked Bubna, “What is it?”
“A boy at the door requesting that you lower your shield forcefield thing, whatever the heck it’s called.”
“Lower the Wall of Peace?” repeated the princess. “It’s never been done. All who deserve to be in the HippieHollow are able to cross through the Wall. It’s just how it is.”
“Who is asking?” Carolyn said.
“Some boy, I told you!” said Bubna.
Princess Christa rolled her eyes. “Whom is he asking for?”
“You said ‘Whom’,” pointed out Navid.
“So?” said Princess Christa. “It’s good grammar.”
“Who the hell cares about grammar?” said Navid.
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t whoever it is just bribe the Wall to let them in?” asked Navid. “The Wall’s pretty shallow. It’d take a few bucks.”
Princess Christa said, “The only known people in Xafriaf to try and fail to cross the Wall of Peace are Kizzy and her evil hags and her evil Kori.”
“What does she want?” wondered Irene.
The first person to remember was Navid. “Shitake mushrooms,” he said. “We t.p.’d her manor last night!”
“What the hell’s a manor?” asked Bubna.
“A house in Clifton,” Irene answered.
“I forgot!” said the princess.
“What do we do?” asked Ardith.
There was silence for a minute before Princess Christa told Bubna, “Lower the Wall.”
“Say what?” said Ardith.
“Princess…” said Carolyn.
“What are you on?” said Navid.
“Um.” said Irene.
“Cool!” said Bubna. “Maybe someone’ll die!” She turned to talk to the random nameless boy who actually isn’t nameless why the heck did the author write that? and lower the forcefield.
“Don’t worry,” said Princess Christa. “I have an idea.” She whispered something to Irene, who grinned and quickly ran into the basement.
“What?” asked Navid.
“You’ll see. There’s no time to explain now. Follow me.” Princess Christa ran out of the room and across the HippieHollow with the other three following. As they passed Bubna the princess told her, “Show Kizzy into the Meeting-with-foes-who-have-managed-to-get-across-the-Wall-whether-with-or-without-inside-assistance-even-though-if-they-got-in-without-inside-assistance-that-is-a-pretty-big-feat-and-they-probably-deserve-to-talk-with-whoever-is-present-at-the-Hippie-Hollow-at-the-time-even-if-they-are-a-foe Room.”
“I shall kill you all,” was Bubna’s response.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Bubna. He then got up and ran into the woods.
The princess entered the room whose name will not be repeated for fear of wasting computer ink. In the room were some sweet butterfly chairs in assorted colors and a table made completely from Popsicle sticks.
“Why is that table made completely from Popsicle sticks?” questioned Navid.
Princess Christa shrugged. “I got bored.”
Everyone took a seat as Ardith asked, “What’s your plan, Princess?”
Princess Christa opened her mouth to speak but before she could say anything Bubna came to the door. “Here’s Kizzy, your highness.”
“The Dark Sorceress Kizzy,” corrected a voice from behind her. Everyone in the room expected to see a small child before them, as hinted by the voice, but Kori stepped into the room whose name will not be repeated. She then flipped her hair. Kori looked around and said, “These seats are not suitable for Kizzy to sit in.”
“Why?” asked Carolyn.
“Butterfly chairs are associated with hippies,” said Kori simply as she flipped her hair.
A group of dwarves came in behind her supporting a large armchair between them. They set it down and quickly scurried back out.
Kizzy entered, along with Rochelle, and sat down. Kori and Rochelle took butterfly seats themselves, albeit very reluctantly.
“What do you want?” asked Princess Christa.
Kizzy sighed dramatically. “Last night, as I was bidding my party guests good-bye, I noticed that someone had toilet-papered my castle and grounds.”
“You mean your house and yard,” said Ardith.
“It’s all relative. Anyway, my dwarf servants were cleaning the mess up and one of them found this.” Kizzy gestured to Kori.
Kori flipped her hair before holding up a shiny blue peace sign medallion.
“Which means,” said Kizzy, “that is was you, you, or you.” She pointed to Princess Christa, Navid, and Ardith. “It doesn’t even matter who did it,” said Kizzy. “Because you two—“ here she pointed at Ardith and Navid “—were arrested and shall be captured again, whether you did it or not. And you—“ She pointed at Princess Christa. “We just don’t like you. You are all three under arrest.”
Hiding in a dark cave in the Meenakshyamma Mountains of Xafriaf, Ms. Salila was playing with test tubes.
“Thees eez dee chemeecull I need to deestroy them!” she muttered to herself in a voice that sounded a lot like Ardith when she has a cold. She poured the contents of one of tube into another and laughed hysterically in her accent as the mixture produced a blue cloud.
“I found eet! I found eet!” She jumped up from her seat (well not actually a seat, rather a really flat rock on top of more rocks) and ran in an oblique path out of the cave and towards the HippieHollow…
At this point in the story the author half-remembered a story idea she had for this fairytale and decided to write it. The author is somewhat distracted as she writes this because she is at the same time listening to “American Pie” by Don McLean and therefore apologizes beforehand if the beginning of this part of the story is essentially a piece of crap.
Also, the author had absolutely NO IDEA where the previous author was going with this story and therefore apologizes if she screws up the entire story.
“You three are under arrest!” Kori repeated with a flip of the hair and a menacing glare (rhyme… J) that Navid and Ardith missed because they weren’t tall enough to see her face. Nonetheless, they felt the ‘aura of menace.’
“Your mom is under arr—est…” Alec began, but decided that he should probably shut up, judging by all the evil glares he was getting from people.
Ardith and Princess Christa then chose the entirely wrong time to start laughing uncontrollably.
“What the hell?” asked Navid, clearly kinda pissed off. “You can’t arrest us on our own property!”
If Princess Christa hadn’t been laughing, she probably would have pointed out the fact that it wasn’t “our” property, but rather “hers that everyone else lived on.” But because she still had her face in her hands and laughter resounding out of her mouth (and squeaking incessantly “hey shut up” resounding after remark) (did that sentence make any sense? Whatever. Hell if I care), she didn’t and Navid continued. Or rather waited for Kori’s response.
“Yeah I can, can’t I?” Kori said in her entirely annoying whiny voice, turning to Kizzy for backup. She then flipped her hair.
“Uh… Pretty Pony Power!” Kizzy shrieked and ran out of the castle with her… (at this point in the story the author couldn’t think of a good word to put here and after looking to Harry Potter for advice, she put a word that she thinks is funny in the place of the non-existent word)… cronies… (See? Isn’t that funny?) … racing off behind her.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Ardith and Princess Christa, which incited more laughter. He then got up and ran into the woods.
“God, that was wasted,” Princess Christa said, finally stopping her laughter and gasping for breath (during a very long period of laughter, one occasionally has to stop in order to breathe).
At this point in the story the author realized that Alec wasn’t even in the scene of the story currently and please asks the readers to forget that Alec was ever here or said anything.
“Hey, man! They can’t just… get away! We have to like, kill them or something!” Carolyn screeched. “Omigosh, Princess Christa! I’m starting to talk like… like, a hippie!”
And there was much rejoicing, immediately followed by everyone running out of the room in a kinda pathetic attempt to Kizzy. Except for Ardith, who was crouched on the floor silently poking the popsicle stick table.
Suddenly Navid’s head appeared in the doorway (well… his body was there too, but his body was irrelevant at this point in the story so I’m ignoring it… no offense to Navid’s body…). “Ardith,” he groaned. “Get up. No matter how much you poke it, it’s not going to poke you back.”
Ardith sighed and nodded sadly. She flitted (this implies that she was using her wings, which the author personally feels do not get enough mention in this story) up off the ground and followed Navid to catch up with Princess Christa, Irene, and Carolyn.
Ms. Salila was still running towards the HippieHollow with her beaker in hand. You may wonder if she’s been running the entire day, and if so, why, because running for so long would suck and would get really tiring. But you have to understand that the Meenakshyamma Mountains are really high, considering a dragon’s lair has to be contained somewhere in there. So… yeah. There’s your Salila update. *insert Salila theme song*
By the time Navid and Ardith caught up to the others, Princess Christa was already arguing with the Wall of Peace (ironically).
“C’mon, man, can’t you just tell us where they went?” Princess Christa pleaded, staring at the invisible forcefield (don’t ask how… it’s possible… I think…)
The invisible Wall invisibly shook its invisible head, invisibly. Princess Christa was still standing, waiting for an answer (because obviously no one can see when an invisible wall shakes its head invisibly).
Ardith slid up to the Wall and whispered something in its invisible ear and slipped the Wall a mysterious… neon orange… envelope. Which was immediately consumed by invisible-ness. (The author does realize that the proper term here is “invisibility” but feels that “invisible-ness” simply sounds better in the context.)
“Kizzy was last seen running towards the Meenakshyamma Mountains,” the Wall replied invisibly.
“Thanks, man,” Princess Christa replied.
The five ran (and flew, in Ardith’s case) toward the Meenakshyamma Mountains in am extremely disorganized manner that the author is too lazy and unimaginative to describe right now.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Navid. He then got up and ran into the woods.
“Hey, Ardith,” Princess Christa asked, looking at the fairy jester, “Why the neon orange envelope?”
“’Cuz it’s a kickass color! Hud!” Ardith replies simply.
The next question was supposed to be asked by Carolyn, but the author typing took the privilege of changing it from what the author writing had, since the question was spoken in a skeptical manner about a word and Carolyn had many funny words herself. Like jumper. And sexual intercourse. And the phrase “yea high,” often accompanied by a general waving gesture.
“Hud?” Irene asked, raising an eyebrow. If you will count back eight lines, not including the empty ones, or ten spaces, counting the ones with nothing in them, you will find that you have already forgotten that Ardith said this.
“Sorry. ‘Hud’ is ‘duh’ backwards. I guess I accidentally reverted back to my original fairy-language of backward-ness,” Ardith said with a grin.
*cough* At this point in the story the author wanted to point out the fact that she used the words “reverted and “backwards” together. The author thought that this was very funny and wanted to share that thought with everyone. *cough* AHAHAHAHAHA *cough* *snort*
“Okay,” Princess Christa, Navid and Carolyn replied.
“That was like the most pointless conversation in the whole story!” Irene said with a really weird glare.
The typing author wrote the next ten lines of the story:
“What about the your-mom-sucks-in-your-pants, shut-up-Navid-because-no-really-this-is-bad, your-mom-is-bad-in-your-pants, shut-up-Navid conversation?” asked Princess Christa.
“Or the Irene-Princess Christa secret conversation?” pointed out Ardith.
“Or the conversation about Carolyn’s impregnation?” said Navid.
“Shut up!” said Princess Christa. “That conversation hasn’t happened yet!”
And here is written an official apology for Navid’s slip of the tongue that revealed something happening later in the story.
The typing author says, “Navid! You’re so stupid!”
Navid says, looking up at the pretty face of the typing author, and admits, “I know. Sorry.”
Then the typing author goes off to rejoice because she finally has a line in the story. (A few people now have a quarrel over whom Navid was thinking about when it said ‘pretty face.’)
Ardith said, “I think this one might have been the most pointless conversation in the whole story.”
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Carolyn. He then got up and ran into the woods.
BOOM! Why the hell is “boom” used to signify explosions anyway? In reality they sound more like bmmmmmrachkittak clatter-clatter. (The clatter-clatter represents debris flying in a disorganized manner.) Suddenly a big puff of blue smoke rose up from the seventh highest peak of the Meenakshyamma Mountains and a loud scream attacked the five’s ears (you have to realize that the scream did not literally “attack” the ears. The author is just exercising creative liberty through the use of personification).
At this point in the story, the author’s dad came into the room and yelled at the author for being up so late and told her to go to bed. Therefore the author officially leaves the rest of the creation of this story to the next author. It’s official. There’s been a document written.
Now the current author, the one after the one mentioned, is writing and she also has no idea of where the previous author was taking the story and therefore also apologizes if it gets completely screwed up.
And the current author just got home from an entirely boring, exhausting dance where everyone but her danced. (Whoa. That’s why it’s called a dance. How creative and thought provoking.) Yeah. And they liked dancing. So she is tired and a bit annoyed at the world and her feet hurt from the flippin high heels she had to wear even though she could already pass for an Amazonian warrior princess what with her Amazonian warrior princess-like height. Anyway, she just put on her way cool comfy new shoes and hopefully that will get her felling more positive about life and will not end up killing off all of the characters.
So here’s just a general apology for the quality of the following portion of the story.
Princess Christa, Carolyn, Ardith, Navid and Irene ran towards the scream. Well, Ardith flew, like with wings, and the author is pointing this out because she, too, feels that they don’t get enough mention.
After a few minutes of walking Irene got tired and placed a flying spell upon all of her homies.
“Why didn’t you do that before?” asked Navid.
“Your mom did that before… IN YOUR PANTS!!!” Irene responded.
So everyone was flying (I guess Ardith was double-flying because she could already fly and now she could finally fly… does that make sense? Whatever) and soon they reached the peak of the seventh highest mountain of the Meenakshyamma mountain range.
The flying spell was removed from them and they stood aimlessly.
“Where was that scream from?” Navid asked.
“A bit more over here,” answered Carolyn, looking behind a bush.
Suddenly Carolyn shrieked and darted away from the bush, a horrified look on her face.
“What?” asked Princess Christa.
“What?” asked… everybody…
“It’s Zephan…” started Carolyn.
“What, is he like going to the bathroom?”
Carolyn shook her head. “No!” (Yes, the author did kind of steal the last few lines from a totally sweet episode of That 70’s Show. Actually, it fit much better in the show because Eric was in the bathroom and Donna opened it, Jackie standing behind her. She then said, “Oh, my God, sorry!” and slammed the door shut. Jackie asked, confused, “What, is he going to the bathroom?” Donna cries, “No!” Realization hits Jackie like a sudden blow to the face and the two girls flee from the room, screaming.) Princess Christa pulled the bushed back and everyone peered through.
Zephan was standing there, flogging his log.
(If you don’t know what that means, this will be very funny. If you do, it will be very funny and very dirty at the same time.)
Princess Christa let the bush whip back into place, blocking Zephan from view, thank God, because the author did not want to see that. The princess yelled, “What the hell? EwwEwwEww.” (Disembodied voice says, “If you were to add a little more emphasis on that then I would concur.”)
Zephan, sounding very preoccupied, yelled back, “Kizzy found me trying to sneak into Ms. Salila’s cave and put a log-flogging curse on me!”
Princess Christa yelled back, still hyperventilating from disgust, “Yeah. Sure.”
Zephan shouted, “No, really!”
The princess looked back at Carolyn, who was still standing with her mouth in an ‘o’ shape. Princess Christa said, “Your diagnosis, Carolyn?”
Carolyn just shook her head again.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Carolyn. He then got up and ran into the woods, where he met Zephan, screamed in disgust, and ran the other way.
Irene stepped forward. “I can fix this,” she said. She raised her hand and pointed it in the direction. “If it is a spell, this will counter it. If he’s doing it by himself, then it will do nothing.” She shot a bolt of some kind of electric charge (well maybe not electric – no one really took the time to check it) towards Zephan.
There was a thud sound on the leaves as Zephan yelled, “Finally!” A ‘zip’ emitted from that area and he came through the bush.
Cue awkward silence. Somewhere in the distance, faint popcorn chewing can be heard in the place of crickets. Why? Because I say so. SMIIIIIIITE!
Then – “Why were you sneaking into Ms. Salila’s cave, Zephan?”
The current author has run out of ideas for now and will presently print out what there is of the story in hopes that the first reader, who is also a contributing author, won’t find it so disgusting that he or she is incapable of writing forever.
The current author also gives the next author permission to tell the readers to forget the last part of the story, if it is too dirty. Wow, when you think about it, you wonder what the current author was thinking when she wrote that. There are a lot of dirty-minded people out there. Beware. Actually, that last part was so disgusting that the author who wrote it is debating about whether or not to delete it but won’t until she has heard the opinions of her peers.
Oh yeah, and her ‘delete’ button is still stuck, as you will have read on page 11 but by now have surely forgotten.
Her peers thought it was disgusting but decided to keep it due to lack of a better idea.
After the log-flogging incident, there was a consistent five-foot radius around Zephan. There were hushed whispers as Navid, the super tracker, tried to find a way to the top of the Meeblahblahblah Mountains.
“So, do you think that Kizzy made Zephan flog his log or what?” Ardith asked Carolyn.
“OF COURSE IT WAS KIZZY, YOU DILLHOLE!” Carolyn screamed.
Just so that the reader knows, that was not in a hushed whisper due to the over-use of the Caps Lock key.
“Jeez you’re going to cause an avalanche,” Navid bluntly remarked.
Zephan was merely looking sad and very embarrassed like after he… Oh, never mind.
While the group was stopped for afternoon tea and little crackers that become very tea-engulfed but were a slight bit crunchy still… (Yes, the author realizes that he may have gone too far with the description of the tea crackers). Zephan pulled Carolyn aside. (This is a chance for the author to be exceedingly dirty and insulting to both Carolyn and Zephan. I incline that if you do not want to be grossed out, you will skip to the indicated “skip to here” line in the text. You may also skip to the “skip here” line in the text if you are either Carolyn or Zephan, mainly to protect the well being of the author.)
While Ardith was flying overhead, trying to catch something only she could see, she saw Carolyn and Zephan making out probably after Zephan had explained everything. But of course, Ardith did not understand what she was seeing.
After going back to the group that only consisted of Navid, Princess Christa, and Irene, Ardith asked, “Dude, dude, alright, like, I, like, was chasing a balloon that, like, changed colors, and, like, saw Carolyn and flog-log boy performing a strange cult ritual.”
This left about 13.78 seconds of a stunned silence, and then Navid spoke.
“What drug are you on again?”
“Um… I forgot,” Ardith said.
“So what were they doing in this ritual?” Navid asked.
“I’ll show you!” Ardith said.
At this point you can probably guess what happened. Indeed Ardith planted one on Navid’s lips. At this moment Navid, Princess Christa, Irene, the sun, passing birds, and small mammals were scarred forever.
“Ah! What the hell is your deal?” Navid yelled.
“That’s what they were doing!” Ardith yelled. “What does it mean?”
Irene, Navid and Princess Christa looked from one to the other. Finally Princess Christa said simply, “Look it up.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Ardith sarcastically.
SKIP TO HERE
That night, having never reached the peak of the seventh-highest mountain of the Meenakshyamma Mountain range, the six amigops decided to make camp. They built a fire and everyone sat around it, talking.
“So Princess,” Zephan said casually. “What ever happened to your parents?”
Princess Christa said, “My dad got hopelessly lost one day when he refused to stop for directions. My mom suffocated from her boobs.”
Cue another awkward silence.
Then Zephan said, “So did my dad.”
Navid, having no comment, imitated the Twix commercial and shoved a zebra cake into his mouth.
“Pig,” said Princess Christa, taking a bite of a red delicious apple.
“Health freak,” retorted Navid.
Princess Christa paused. Then, “Do I look like a health freak?”
The person on which Princess Christa was based would like to point out here that every time she eats an apple, her ears hurt for a long time and would therefore like to ask all readers to please imagine instead her eating a banana.
The person’s on which’s Princess’s Christa’s was based’s (the author had no idea of where the apostrophe-s went and therefore put it everywhere) her brother pointed out that that sounded dirty. So the author/the person on which Princess Christa was based would instead like to ask all of the readers if they would please picture instead Princess Christa eating an [insert your own fruit here].
Irene said, realizing, “Hold on. Zephan’s dad died by the hand of his boobs?” She looked bewildered.
“Boobs don’t have hands,” Ardith pointed out. “Dillhole.”
“Anti-dillhole,” said Irene.
“Hey! A balloon that changes colors!” Ardith yelled excitedly.
“Hey,” said Navid randomly. “My German teacher died kind of like that. Actually, what happened is that Frau Titty actually jumped so high that when she came back down her tits hit her so hard in the head she got severe brain damage. She died later from acute insanity.”
Irene said, “It’s a terrible way to go, killed by your own tits.”
“I concur,” Zephan concurred.
“I concur with his concurrence,” said Ardith. She was still looking at the balloon that changes colors. The one that wasn’t there.
“I think we should go on,” Navid said.
“I concur,” Princess Christa concurred.
“Hey Carolyn your shoes are untied,” observed Princess Christa from behind her spiffyriffic green-tinted anti-bifocal glasses.
“They’re comfy,” said Carolyn, taking a step and leaving her shoes behind. “Oops.” She ran back to get them.
“Duh,” said Princess Christa.
“Hud!” corrected Ardith, chasing the non-existent balloon.
“I’m going to sleep,” said Zephan. “Good nite.”
Navid said, “Hey you spelled that wrong.”
“I’m going to bed to,” said Carolyn.
“Hey that was spelled wrong too.”
Ardith sayd, “Thatt wuzn’t spelt rongg.”
“Ah!” skreemed Prinsess Christa. “Tha spelings ar owt ouf controlle! Whut givz?”
“Wut doo wee doo?” askt Ardith, abandaninng hur bolloone.
Tha siks frends lookt upp att tha righter ouf thes porshun ouf tha storie. “Wut givz?” askt Irene.
Tha riter ansered, “Ai amm soe nott hi rite noww.”
Soo noww tha riter ouf thes porshin ouf tha storie handse itt too tha nekst riter.
The next morning, Carolyn and Zephan were holding hands (eww) and they both had a smirk on their faces that suggested something had happened that the rest of the amigops desperately wished hadn’t happened. Or at least desperately wished they would not be informed of what happened.
“Dude, what’s with the face?” Navid asked.
“Everyone,” Carolyn said. “I have a special announcement to make.” She glanced at Zephan. “Zephan and I are going to be married.”
“By default,” Zephan added.
“What does that mean?” Princess Christa asked.
“Oh yeah,” Carolyn said. “I am also with child. Did I leave that out? Silly me.”
“Who’s the father?” Irene asked.
“Who the hell do you think?” Carolyn responded indignantly.
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe you’re some kind of slut or something,” said Irene. She observed, “Hey, if you guys… got jiggy with it… last night, how could you possibly know you were p.g. already?”
Navid giggled. “Haha… p.g. Haha… woman’s intuition… Haha.”
Just then Tracy, the Korean president, dropped out of the sky. THUD was the sound as she hit the ground. (Haha rhyme.) (Haha onomatopoeia.) (That word took me eight tries to even be recognized by the spell-check.)
“Oh my gosh,” President Tracy said. “I need my Korean soap operas! Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh.” As she said this she fanned herself in a sort of spastic preppy way.
“Bite me,” Princess Christa said. “Princess outranks president, especially a Korean one.”
President Tracy of the Korean Republic ran back into the woods.
After the president ran back into the woods, Annette and Leanne, the minstrels, came up the path.
“Hey,” they said.
“Hey,” the amigops said.
The two joined the amigops so now they were the seven amigops. Wait the eight sorry I forgot to count Zephan.
“Why are you the amigops?” asked Annette.
“As opposed to what?” asked Princess Christa.
Leanne said slowly, “…Amigos, maybe?”
“Well,” Princess Christa said. “Carl from Jimmy Neutron was writing nametags for himself, Jimmy and Sheen titled ‘the three amigos’ and there was a horrible typo in the title and it ended up as the three amigops instead.”
The author of this portion of the story is very tired. She was whistling the theme from “Nutcracker” the ballet, despite her inability to whistle, and her having never seen the Nutcracker, let alone memorized the song, and then it turned into the theme from “Little Mermaid” so she printed out what she had and then stopped.
The next day the eight amigops went down the path, where they met up with Colonel Will. He told story after story, and soon everyone was laughing on the ground, so Colonel Will decided to tell dull stories. So the eight amigops were bored into oblivion. (Hey there’s a really good song that goes ‘Gonna put my tender heart in a blender/ watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion/rendezvous and I’m through with you’ it’s a good song listen to it sometime you won’t regret it.)
Colonel Will said, “So I was talking to this Gebronie, and I knew this guy was an Gebronie, so I says to the Gebronie, I says, ‘Hey, Gebronie! You’re a Gebronie!’ I sure showed that Gebronie…”
So the eight amigops ditched Colonel Will and left him jabbering to himself in a clearing in the woods.
Leanne said in unison with herself (duh/hud, how was that relevant?), “Who was that guy?” at which point the other six amigops realized that she hadn’t been in the science class where Colonel Will subbed.
“No one,” said Princess Christa.
They were drawing near to the seventh highest peak of the Meenakshyamma Mountain range when they heard a scream in the forest. Zephan bravely ran into the woods and emerged with Summer in his arms. Summer was some grand duchess or something, no one really cares. But she was soon accepted as one of the amigops. So now there were nine. Amigops, that is.
“What’s wrong?” Princess Christa asked Summer.
Summer exclaimed, “I can’t find my lover, Timmy!” with a following glare by Annette.
Navid said, “Well where did you put him?”
“I can’t remember!” At this point Summer was nearly crying. Princess Christa began to feel the slightest amount of pity. And Annette smiled evilly.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Summer. He then got up and ran into the woods.
Ardith said, “Well, where do you last remember having him?” She seemed to be the only one to not realize how dirty that sounded.
As Summer caught sight of Annette, there was a dramatic flashback of them exchanging kicking rocks at each other. Then Summer attacked Annette randomly. After Annette did a complete kickass move, she asked Summer, “What the hell was that? I thought we were cool.” (But secretly Annette really wanted to kick another rock at her)
Summer replied, “Oh yeah. I forgot.”
Summer + Annette = mushroom cloud. Always. Except for now, apparently.
And then, as if there weren’t enough characters to keep track of in this story, Anaira, otherwise known as she-who-is-impaired-in-the-art-of-walking-up-and-down-stairs.
So, to review, the current characters are: Princess Christa the… princess, Navid the elf, Ardith the fairy jester, Irene the prophet, Carolyn the foreign handmaiden, Zephan the log-flogging knight, Leanne the taller minstrel, Annette the shorter minstrel, Summer the duchess or whatever, and Anaira, she-who-is-impaired-in-the-art-of-walking-up-and-down-stairs.
And now the nine were looking for Timmy the knight, Summer’s unbelievably prude lover. Eww.
Carolyn and Summer fell to the back of the group, giggling about girl stuff. Well, it wasn’t exactly girl stuff, since Princess Christa, Ardith, Irene and Zephan all wanted no part of it. And they were definitely girls.
After another half a day the amigops reached the peak of the seventh highest mountain in the Meenakshyamma range. They found a cave but it wasn’t Ms. Salila’s, and yet they knew that this was where Ms. Salila’s cave was located.
“What the hell?” said Princess Christa. “Ms. Salila’s cave is on the seventh highest mountain, right?”
There was a silence around the amigops.
“Oh!” cried Princess Christa, smacking herself in the forehead. “Wait! We aren’t on the seventh highest mountain right now, we’re on the sixth highest!”
A couple of people flung rubber bands at the princess while she contemplated her mistake exasperatedly.
“And dammit!” said Princess Christa. “I just hit myself in the head! Ow!”
“What do we do now?” asked Irene. She then glared at Princess Christa and said, “Stupid hippie.”
Princess Christa shrugged. “Sor-ry, man. It’s not like any of you noticed we were on the wrong mountain!”
“Yeah,” agreed Ardith. Navid shook his head sadly at the fact that Ardith was defending an insult against herself.
No one seemed to notice the figure that slowly sidled into the group. It was the figure of a tall young man, with lots of bling and an unemotional face. No one noticed, that is, until Summer shrieked in delight.
“Timmy!” she cried, throwing her arms around him; Timmy standing there, realizing that a girl had just hugged him. They hugged and then Summer asked, “Timmy, what are you doing here? Well, actually, where the heck did you go?”
Timmy shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t remember anything between when I got kidnapped while we were holding hands and skipping and a few hours ago. And my head really hurts.”
“Are your shoes on too tight?” asked Summer.
Timmy looked oddly at her. “…No…”
So now there were ten amigops! Ole, ole!
The author of the story would like to point out that Timmy has already been in the story, on page 15. Then he had been brainwashed and forced to do Kizzy’s bidding, which consisted mostly of simply getting across the Wall of Peace and being yelled at by Bubna. But none of the characters knew this, so please don’t tell them or they will probably freak out.
A sly, growling voice said behind the group, “I know where you can find Ms. Salila.”
The group turned around. (Well, each individual person in the group did their own turning but that sounds bad in context.) Standing behind the group was a pretty wolf.
“Who are you?” asked Summer.
“I am Cori,” replied Cori.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!” Ardith went ballistic at the mention of the name Kori.
“What? I am Cori.”
Navid went freak at this point too. “Ah, no, Kori’s a shape-shifter! What do we do, what do we do?”
Cori said, “I’m not a shape-shifter. I’ve always been a wolf. Really,” she added, noticing everyone else’s suspicious looks.
“Cori is evil, Cori is evil!” Annette cried over and over again.
Then everyone yelled ”YOU THINK?” then she mumbled about how she lived in torment because of her sister. Again.
Cori walked over to Annette and slapped her in the face. (Can wolves slap? Hmm.) “Annette. It’s me, Cori. We went to the same elementary school, remember? Blokeview?”
Annette chilled. “Oh yeah. Hey guys,” she said to the rest of the group. “Cori’s not evil.”
“Kori is evil, what are you talking about?” said Navid.
“No, guys, no,” the author said. All eleven faces looked up at her as she explained. “You see, evil Kori was based on the real person Tori. The wolf Cori was based on the real person Dori. Got it?”
All eleven, wait no twelve I forgot to count Zephan, twelve of them nodded their heads.
The author explained further. “The only other name rhyming with Tori and Dori is Lori, and that sounds like a wussy name. Well, at the least, Dori didn’t like it when I was beginning to put her in the story. And Cori sounds much more wolf-like, do you agree?”
“Yes,” said the group in one voice, still looking up at the author.
“I had thought that since this is a story, written that everyone would be able to tell the difference between Kay-Kori and Cee-Cori. But I’d forgotten that you guys don’t read it, you just act it. I apologize. Please know now that there is a big difference between the wolf Kori and the hag Cori. I mean the wolf Cori and the hag Kori. Yeah. That’s it.”
“Damn,” said Navid. “You and your friends sure know how to tell one confusing story.”
The author said, “You are based on one of the authors. Oh! What now?”
Navid thought for a moment. “Which character is based on you?” he asked.
“Sweet,” said Princess Christa. “I’m based on the creator.”
“This is getting more confusing by the second,” said Ardith, shaking her head.
“Here,” said the author gently. She then wrote in the color-changing balloon that only Ardith could see and the fairy-jester began chasing it. Annette, feeling left out said, “Ooh me too?” then the creator replied, ”Yes you too.” Then Annette pointed at everyone saying “CEREBELLUM!!”
So now the amigops will go back to acting and the author will go back to authorizing. Wait a sec. That doesn’t make sense. Why doesn’t an author authorize? “Author” means someone who writes a book, according to The New International Webster’s Pocket Dictionary. But to “authorize” is to confer authority upon, to allow, to warrant, or to justify. The English language is entirely too complicated.
We should all speak Yiddish.
There are only a few basic terms: oy, mishuggama, mishigas, shalom, and shvitz. ‘Shvitz’ means ‘sweat’, thank you very much.
And people who speak Yiddish are Jewish. And Jewish people are muchly cool. They’re really cheap too. Like my grandpa is filthy rich because he’s so cheap. Actually my grandma was the cheap one but she kinda just died so I don’t want to say anything mean about her. Actually I view it as a compliment. Well anyway my grandpa is filthy rich. We went to Boston to visit my family and everything we say he said, “Want me to buy that for you?” It was great.
Anyway… Jewish people are also cool because they go to synagogues, which are a lot more fun to attend than church. Church is really boring, you know.
Okay. I am writing this and my homie is sitting next to me is commenting on every single typo I make. I am not the world’s most accurate typist. Like, when I was trying to do that period there, I did a dash, then comma, and finally then a period. So now I’m going to put the pen down… or just stop typing, more like… and let it rest.
The eleven (I think… let me count…) no twelve sorry I forgot to count Zephan… The twelve amigops were acting again. They went outside and stood on the peak of the sixth-highest mountain on the Meenablahblahblah Mountains.
Just then the ground underneath them crumbled and Anaira, Summer, Timmy, Annette, Cori, and Leanne went tumbling into oblivion.
No one really seemed to care. There was a general disappointment at the realization that Zephan hadn’t died, but, the pain receded, and they became whole again.
Yeah. I stole that last line from That ‘70s Show. You will find that this occurs a lot.
Those characters were killed off because there were too many to keep track of. My friend suggests I write “We meant to insult no one” but we do, really, so sorry to my friend. We only kept the people who had been around for basically the whole story. The veterans. The non-newbies. The anti-Launchies.
Now there was left Princess Christa, Navid, Ardith, Irene, Carolyn, and Zephan. Seven. Now that is much easier to remember, isn’t it?
The author is experiencing a creativity block. She asks her homie for help. This is the conversation between her and her homie, the writer speaking first:
“…They have to make it to the seventh highest peak…”
“Wait! I have a good idea!”
“Haha you spelled that wrong.”
“Shush. I need to write down what we’re saying.”
This is what she wrote:
“…They have to make it to the seventh highest peak…”
“Wait! I have a good idea!”
“Haha you spelled that wrong.”
“Shush. I need to write down what we’re saying.”
This is what she wrote:
“…They have to make it to the seventh highest peak…”
“Wait! I have a good idea!”
“Haha you spelled that wrong.”
“Shush. I need to write down what we’re saying.”
This is what she wrote:
“…They have to make it to the seventh highest peak…”
“Wait! I have a good idea!”
“Haha you spelled that wrong.”
“Shush. I need to write down what we’re saying.”
This is what she wrote:
“…They have to make it to the seventh highest peak…”
“Wait! I have a good idea!”
“Haha you spelled that wrong.”
“Shush. I need to write down what we’re saying.”
This is what she wrote:
“…They have to make it to the seventh highest peak…”
“Wait! I have a good idea!”
“Haha you spelled that wrong.”
“Shush. I need to write down what we’re saying.”
This is what she wrote:
“…They have to make it to the seventh highest peak…”
“Wait! I have a good idea!”
“Haha you spelled that wrong.”
“Shush. I need to write down what we’re saying.”
This is what she wrote:
“…They have to make it to the seventh highest peak…”
“Wait! I have a good idea!”
“Haha you spelled that wrong.”
Now my homie speaks: “What the hell are you doing, idiot? That’s a waste of computer ink.”
“It’s not printed yet, dillhole.”
Please wait a moment while I eject my brothers from my room… Okay. Thanks for waiting.
So… Right now the author is listening to a song called “Let Me Clear my Throat”. Here are the lyrics: “Let me clear my throat… Let me clear my throat… Have mercy baby… I hope you don’t mind… Let me clear my throat… And it goes a little something like this… *cough*cough*cough*” Etcetera. It’s great.
So, because the style of this song is a sort of The-Fresh-Prince-of-Bel-Air-Will-Smith-nineties-gangster-homeboy theme, the following part of the story will have a sort of The-Fresh-Prince-of-Bel-Air-Will-Smith-nineties-gangster-homeboy theme.
“Yo,” said Princess Christa, flashing her bling. “I’m thinkin’ that our pimps just up ‘n’ died. Holla’ back!”
“Yeah,” said Carolyn, shimmying.
“To the shizzle, my bro-izzle,” said Navid, pulling off his do-rag.
Zephan did a bit of rather impressive break dancing. He finished with a crip walk as he said, “That’s wut I’m talkin’ ‘bout!”
Well, that was frightening. But now a country song is playing. Let’s try the scene like they’re all hicks.
“Wull, gallopin’ gophers!” exclaimed Princess Christa, scratching her head. “I reckon that them people over thurr dun gone an’ fall’n off that there cliff. Der wut?”
“Hmmmmmmmmm,” said Carolyn, picking her nose.
“Mmmm… Miracle Whip,” said Navid, pulling off his topless top hat.
Zephan pulled out a jug and played a rather disappointingly bad piece of music on it. He finished by blowing a little too hard and having a coughing fit.
That, too, was frightening. The author of this portion of the story is currently listening to Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper,” and there is a line that goes, “Romeo and Juliet are together for eternity…” Perhaps we should try a Shakespearian type scene.
“I do declare,” Princess Christa cried, furrowing her brow in despair. “I suspect our jovial comrades hath past gone cascading into a blissful oblivion.”
“Quite, quite,” said Carolyn, placing her hand to her throat.
“If I were not the man that I was here today then I would be a woman,” stated Navid, pulling off his feathered plume hat.
Zephan pulled out a fife and played it for a bit. Princess Christa set herself in a state of antagonized fury as she compared Zephan’s fifing artistry to her own. Zephan ended with a rather high note that blasted through everyone’s minds.
Well, okay, now the author has decided to DEFINITELY stick to writing normally.
“Whoa,” said Princess Christa, throwing her hands in the air. “Our amigops just kinda, like, fell off that cliff!”
“No shit,” said Carolyn, putting her hands on her hips.
“Uh… Yeah,” said Navid, fingering his peace medallion.
Zephan pulled out a bike and got onto it. He began pedaling and was too caught up in his wonderment that he, too, went falling from the cliff. Translation: he died. Woo, woo. And the whole world rejoices. Fiesta.
“Well, this sucks,” said Carolyn. “Now I’m gonna have to be a single mother. You know, being a mom really limits one’s dating time.”
There was a bit of general rejoicing now that Zephan was finally dead. Fiesta once again. Then the aura of Kori’s hair flipping ended it. Yes, the hag Kori.
(Hopefully Merrilyn and Stephen won’t get back together and then I’ll have to write it like he survived. Well, okay, more hopefully Merrilyn will actually break up with him this time so I don’t have to delete this. Which I wouldn’t be able to because my “delete” key is stuck.)
(No offense to Stephen.)
(Really. Cough, cough.)
(Stephan, really, no offense, because even though I hate you you’re still a good friend.)
So now the only people left were Princess Christa, Navid, Ardith, Irene, and Carolyn.
They decided it would be a good idea to go over to the seventh highest peak of the Meenakshyamma Mountain range.
“Here,” said Irene as she whipped out her wand. “Let me transport all of us there.”
There was a general annoyed silence, before:
“Oh, my god.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
Irene stepped back in a bewildered daze. “What the heck did I do?”
Carolyn crossed her arms and started tapping her foot (looking a lot like the author’s mother). ”We just walked for two days to get here and you could have magicked us there?”
Irene frowned. “…Yeah.”
Everyone threw up their hands and took a few steps away from Irene.
“Sorry!” she cried.
“Oh, never mind,” said Navid. “Just do it.”
Irene waved her wand and spoke a few Latin-sounding words. Soon the group found themselves… somewhere else.
“Where are we?” asked Carolyn. “I don’t recognize it. Maybe I should ring my mum on the mobile.”
“Shut up you Australian,” said Princess Christa.
“Aussie,” corrected Navid.
“Hey, shut up,” replied the tall princess.
“My phone is gay,” said Carolyn.
“So is mine they should meet,” said Navid.
“No!” said Princess Christa. “It’s dating mine! And – hey, it is not gay.”
“Oh well then he’ll have to have an affair.”
Good news. Merrilyn just broke up with Stephen. So I won’t have to attempt to use my DELETE key in the near future. I’m sure that Merrilyn will become more pushover-y and will get back together with him after he cries to her or… something else that worked last time.
Merrilyn would like to add that she has no remorse.
Tee hee hee.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of the not at all sorry Carolyn. He then got up and ran into the woods.
“Hey, I know what,” said Carolyn. “I’ll pursue Devin! That’ll show stupid Zephan.”
“Eww,” chorused the group.
As we all know, Devin is the stupidest, dumbest, most retarded … person in entire flippin world. And the thought of Devin being romantically involved with anyone, besides Corgan, brings thoughts of vomit/death to any sane person’s mind.
It’s funny how Devin with ANYONE brings the thought of vomit/death to any sane person’s mind but the thought of Devin and Corgan doesn’t. Oh well whatever.
Also, as we all know, Carolyn also happens to be pregnant. Therefore, she was desperate to find someone to date/marry before the next approximately 8 ½ months because she wanted to have a nice atmosphere for her precious little Australian/Canadian demon child.
“So what are you going to name the baby?” Navid asked.
“I was thinking of Daemon, if it is a boy, and if it is a girl then, well let’s hope it’s a boy,” Carolyn answered.
“That’s awfully close to the word demon, don’t you think?” Navid said.
Carolyn answered: “…Uh.”
“Hey!” cried Princess Christa. “I almost forgot. Today is the beginning of daylight speeding’s time. Starting now, everything in Xafriaf moves two-hundred-fifty times as fast.”
Irene said, “Well, that means one day will be equivalent to nine months.”
“How ominous,” said Navid, looking at Carolyn. Everyone turned to Carolyn.
“Yes…” she said. “How ominous… Mmm…And I definitely understand why it is ominous… For sure.”
No one answered her.
“Oh no,” said Carolyn.
“Oh no.” Princess Christa winced. “What do you mean, oh no?”
“Oh no.” Carolyn then went off to heave her guts.
(That was stolen from That ‘70s Show but then Donna was drunk and she and Eric were out on their first date and she had accidentally ordered the Long Island Iced Tea. Yeah. I hate it when that happens.)
There were some very nasty noises that accompanied the tossing of the cookies but they will not be included in this for everyone’s sake. Then Carolyn came out from behind the rock that she had puked behind.
“Sorry.” She wiped her mouth and smiled pleasantly. “Oh yeah,” she said. “Remind me to KILL Zephan.”
“Uh,” everyone said.
“Well, he kind of already died,” said Princess Christa. “Yeah. Remember? We had the party poppers.”
“Oh yeah.” Carolyn pondered a bit while sitting on her pondering/gut-heaving rock. “But this is a fairy tale written by crazy hippies so I’m sure he will come back later in some form or another.”
“No he won’t,” said the three authors of this story at the same time.
“Whatever,” said Carolyn. “But if he does come back remind me to kill him.”
“He’s not coming back,” the three authors insisted.
“Hey, everyone!” cried Jake, flying onto the ledge in Air Force One.
“Whoa,” said Princess Christa. “Where’d you get that plane?”
“Nicked it from some guy,” said Jake calmly. “He said his name was George Dub-yah Bush or something. He had a lot of guys in black and white fancy clothes around him and they tried to tackle me. But I was too fast for them. You know, they were all really fat.”
“Are you sure they weren’t just muscular?” asked Devin hornily as he fell out of the sky and landed in front of Carolyn.
“Yeah. They were fat,” said Jake.
“I wonder who George Dub-yah Bush is,” wondered Navid.
“Sounds like a foreign loser with a queer accent,” said Princess Christa. All inhabitants of Xafriaf had a hippie accent, and this George guy’s sounded southern.
“Yeah. He is a loser with a queer accent,” Irene said.
“You met him?” asked Jake.
“Yeah. He was a loser.” Irene stated.
“Agreed. Democrats kick.” Said Jake.
“Kick… ass?” suggested Irene.
“No,” said Jake. “Just kick.”
“DO NOT” then the fourth author was briefly shunned.
“So what now?” asked Navid. They were still standing around kinda stupidly at the edge of the cliff.
“Uh,” said everyone.
“I don’t feel so good,” said Carolyn. “I’m going to my mother’s house!” She then ran down the mountain.
“Not cool,” muttered Princess Christa. “There aren’t supposed to be any parents in this story.”
“Ms. Salila’s a parent, and she’s in the story,” pointed out Irene.
“Our parents, I meant,” corrected Princess Christa.
“Jammin’,” said Ardith to herself as she chased the non-existent balloon some more.
“Well, I guess we should go back to the HippieHollow,” said Princess Christa.
“I guess,” said Navid.
“I guess,” said Ardith.
“I guess,” said Irene.
“I guess,” said Devin as he dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Princess Christa. He then got up and ran into the woods.
“No way,” said Navid.
“Yeah, Devin, no way are you coming back to the HippieHollow with us. No way.” Princess Christa was not going to let some weird-named loser intrude upon their fortress of hippie-ness just because Carolyn was pursuing him. She had already made that mistake once.
“Okay, jeez,” said Devin as he dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Ardith. He then got up and ran into the woods.
“Irene,” said Navid. “Please zap the five of us to the Hippie-Hollow.”
“Fine, fine.” Irene waved her hand and said a few French-sounding words, and the five soon found themselves… completely submerged in water.
“Irene!” they all shrieked, but no one heard because they were under water.
“You’re an idiot!” they all shrieked, but no one heard because they were under water.
“Get us out of here!” they all shrieked, but no one heard because they were completely under water.
Irene waved her hand and said a few bubbly-sounding words and soon the group found themselves soaking wet, sitting on the floor of Princess Christa’s hippieriffic bedroom.
“Cough, cough,” said Ardith, coughing.
“Idiot!” they all yelled at Irene.
“Sorry,” she said. “I need to work on my aim.”
Just then Annette walked through the door. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked.
“What the hell!” cried Princess Christa. “I most definitely saw you die.”
“Me too,” said Navid.
“Me too,” said Ardith.
“Me too,” said Irene.
“Me too said Jake.
“Oh, right, the cliff,” said Annette. “I landed on Summer. I hardly even got hurt. I just shattered my weenis.”
“Oh my god!” cried Navid. “Get this woman to a hospital! Quick, save the weenis!”
Irene ran in a circle, shooting spells randomly in all directions.
Jake was speechless and just stood with his mouth agape.
Ardith just sat with her legs crossed and her head in her hands muttering, “Shattered weenis, no such thing, shattered weenis, no such thing.”
Princess Christa ran over to her green fuzzy phone and dialed 911. “Hello?” she said into the receiver. “My friend shattered her weenis. No, her WEENIS, sicko. Okay… Okay. Thank you.” She looked at Annette. “They’re sending an ambulance over. They told me to have you lie down, put an ice cube on your forehead, twist your ankles around each other, cross your fingers, and French-braid your hair. Ardith, braid Annette’s hair.”
“I don’t know how,” said Ardith.
“Me, neither!” cried Princess Christa. “You do it, Irene.”
Irene was still running in circles, shooting spells everywhere.
“I’ll do it,” offered Navid.
“You know how to braid?” asked Princess Christa.
After a few minutes a Pegasus-pulled carriage ambulance pulled up to the front of the HippieHollow and men with stretchers came to take Annette to the hospital. Navid rode with her, because he was the only one who could fit into the extra space in the back of the Pegasus-pulled carriage ambulance, and Irene poofed everyone else there.
Annette was in surgery for three hours while the other five peeps paced back and forth across the waiting room, running into each other numerous times because five people pacing in the same six square feet can be collision-causing.
The doctor, a centaur named Frank (no doctor title) came into the waiting room and asked Princess Christa, “Are you waiting for Annette, She-who-is-lacking-a-last-name?”
“Yes,” said Princess Christa.
“Is she okay?” asked Navid.
“Oh, sure,” said Fred. “You can see her now.”
Princess Christa, Navid, Ardith, Irene and Jake entered the room and saw that Annette looked fine.
“You look fine,” said Jake.
“Come closer,” whispered Annette weakly. They stepped closer. “Closer,” she insisted. They stepped closer. “I need… I need…”
“What?” asked Navid. “What do you need?”
Annette went on: “I need… a tailor. BECASE I RIPPED MY PANTS! Ahahahahahahaha!”
(Yes. That was from a Spongebob episode. Sadly. And Spongebob is not gay, thank you very much.)
Annette hopped up and they all linked arms and skipped out of the hospital. Princess Christa hailed a Pegasus-cab, and they all got on. As they were hovering Navid said, “I think we should go visit Carolyn and see how she’s doing.”
They flew to Carolyn’s mother’s house and everyone got off while Princess Christa, being the only one with money, paid the Pegasus-cab. Carolyn’s mother’s house was normal, really, in the middle of a nice normal community where all the houses looked pretty much the same.
“Who knows when Carolyn’s due?” asked Navid. No answer.
A high-pitched shout came from Carolyn’s mother’s house’s front door. “Why, hello, children!”
Carolyn’s mother ran out to greet them. “Navid, hi.” She passed Jake, Ardith and Irene, saying, “Hi, kids I don’t know.” She then turned to Princess Christa. “Your highness-ness.” She curtsied. “What an honor it is to meet you again, I’m not worthy, please forgive my sins…”
“Yes, yes, no groveling,” Princess Christa said. “I’m not frickin God or anything.”
“Sorry, your highness.” Mrs. Carolyn’s mother (because there are no last names in this story save for Mr. Queer) shepherded (oh yeah and Ms. Salila) the kids into the house and said assumingly, “I assume you’re here to see my Carolyn, right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Carolyn’s mother.”
Mrs. Carolyn’s mother led them up the stairs to a closed door in the hallway. Before she left she said, “She has company, so I’d knock if I were you.”
“Who’d want to see Carolyn besides us?” asked Ardith.
“No one,” everyone else answered. “Hey, Mrs. Carolyn’s mother, when is Carolyn due?”
“Which is why you’re leaving.”
Mrs. Carolyn’s mother left and Navid hesitantly reached for the doorknob. It swung open to reveal Carolyn lying on her bed and
ZEPHAN ZEPHAN ZEPHAN
kneeling on the floor next to her. I know. BIGASS disappointment, right? Tell me about it. You have to read about him, but I have to write about him.
The author, at this point, would like to share some very serious news. News that is so completely irrelevant from the sudden appearance of Zephan that you will forget about him and then when the story continues you will shriek and run from the room screaming bloody Mary. Which will be very amusing to watch in amusement, so please videotape it in an amusing manner for my amusement. Amuse.
Okay. On page 29 of this story the author’s grandfather is declared to be cheap. And Jewish, and etc. Well, within the past week he died, so I would like to please ask you to forget that he was cheap. Because he was real cool, y’know?
So, just… yeah.
ZEPHAN ZEPHAN ZEPHAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Shrieking? Running? No? Okay, then.
So Zephan as kneeling on the floor next to Carolyn’s bed, stroking her hand and giving her sips of cool water.
(Yes. That, too, is from That ‘70s Show. Jackie was trying to convince Kelso that Hide only wanted Kelso to get hurt. Kelso was all, “No way, man! Hide’s my best friend!” Jackie then referred to some show, I forget, about two best friends, we’ll call them George and Bill. “When George broke his arm that time, remember? Bill sat next to his hospital bed, giving him sips of cool water. Now where are you?” Kelso answered, “I’m in a hospital bed…” Jackie said, “And where is Hide?” Kelso exclaims, “He’s not giving me sips of cool water, that’s for sure!” It was funny.)
“I’m in pain,” cried Carolyn.
“I vote we get the hell outta here,” said Princess Christa.
“But Your Highness,” said Navid. “We should be here for Carolyn in her time of need…”
“As your princess, I COMMAND you to get outta here at once!” Princess Christa shouted.
They all got poofed to the HippieHollow to find that everything was back to its natural state of peace-ality (no… peaceablitily… peacefulness… ARGH screw it). Princess Christa, Navid, Ardith, Irene, Carolyn, Zephan, and Annette randomly congregated.
“Well what now?” Princess Christa asked, looking around.
Ardith was staring at the sky and began to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Navid asked.
Navid patted her on the back. Irene rolled her eyes. Zephan’s eyes rolled back into his head and he started speaking Canadian.
“The demon child is possessing him!” Carolyn cried. “Perform an exorcism! Quick!” she screamed at Irene.
“BUT I’M NOT A PRIEST!” Irene cried in frustration.
“So?” Princess Christa and Carolyn replied in unison (which implies that they said it at the same time).
“He doesn’t need to be… wait never mind that’s mean,” Princess Christa continued.
“Since when do you care about being mean?” Annette pointed out… pointedly. (Haha.)
“Hey!” said Navid. “On that episode of That ‘70s Show last night Fez thought he heard the devil backwards on his KISS record and then he was seeing the devil everywhere and then Hide pretended to be the devil and Fez got scared and it was really funny did you guys see it?”
Silence. Then, “Did someone say something?”
Everyone randomly got quiet and looked around with unease. Then Unease decided he didn’t like looking around and stormed out.
Suddenly out of nowhere, a big hammer labeled HIGH SCHOOL came out of the sky and scattered them all in different directions. And it killed Shelly and Prett. Navid and Ardith and Annette were sent flying (and in Ardith’s case double-flying… again) to the HippieHood… a place that used to be overrun with gangstas and preps but ever since the griffin-whisperer Heatha rebelled against the evil prep-gangsta Ronwyn and took over the kingdom… the HippieHood was much like the HippieHollow, with just a slight touch of gangsta.
“Well, that was weird,” Navid said.
“Where are we?” asked Annette.
Ardith laughed. It sounded like a baby dragon hatching & then screaming.
“Welcome to the HippieHood!” a random female giant cried, towering over the three and causing them to cover their ears as she spoke. “I’m Gessi!!! Wanna see my ghetto dance?” She did a variation of the chicken dance… just with a lot of pelvic thrusts, etcetera.
Ardith grinned as she finished. “Wanna hear a joke?” she asked.
“Sure!” said Gessi.
“Why do hippies like corduroy?”
Navid and Annette rolled their eyes. Ardith was prone to telling jokes too many times.
“Why?” asked Gessi eagerly.
“Cuz they’re GROOVE-y!” Ardith fell to the ground, laughing hysterically, which hurt because she’d been hovering about four feet off of the ground. Navid and Annette just shook their heads.
Meanwhile, Carolyn, Irene, and her royal highness, the hippiest gal around, her majesty, her highness, the all-imperial, forever-ruling Princess Christa were blasted over to the GroovyGrove.
“What the hell!” said Princess Christa. “I wanna go back to my house, damn it.”
“It’s not so bad your highness,” Irene stated (haha state…?).
“OH GOD!” Carolyn screamed.
“Here we go,” the princess said unenthusiastically. “EwwEwwEwwEww!” she added.
(At this point in the story, well, the author didn’t want to go into the mind-bogglingly horrific details of Carolyn’s kid’s birth, because she being Australian, there might be awful orgasmic shouts involving kangaroos, wallabies, vegemite, and whatnot.)
(I HATE YOU DAVID. DIE, DIE, DIE, STUPID RETARD. DU BIST FIN SHIZEN KOFF! I HATE YOU! Love, Merrilyn.)
“I HAVE THREE CHILDREN!” Carolyn yelled excitedly.
“Eww…” Princess Christa mumbled. “They have Zephan’s eyes…”
“NOOOOO!” Carolyn cried in despair.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (a phrase which here means “meanwhile, back at the HippieHollow which is not a ranch”)…
“Help I’m by myself at the HippieHollow!” Zephan said.
“Hello… Hello!” Bubna cried.
“Oh God,” said Zephan. “Even worse I’m alone at the HippieHollow WITH BUBNA!!!”
“Oh hi Zephan,” Bubna said. “Can I cut your balls off?”
“What balls?” said Zephan. “I mean – no!”
Bubna said, “You know – I see London, I see… besticle.”
“No you can not have my… besticle… you freak!” Zephan said.
“Please… I must have pain in my life!” Bubna said.
Meanwhile, back a the ranch (a phrase which here means “meanwhile, back at the HippieHood which is not a ranch or even a farm”)…
“Navid?” Gessi asked.
“Yo,” Navid answered.
“What makes guys horny?”
Just then, quite conveniently, Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of Gessi and said, “Everything makes us horny,” as he shoved a Twinkie into his mouth. He then got up and ran into the woods.
“Oh,” said Gessi. “Thanks for clearing that up, Devin, because you know, being Jewish and speaking Yiddish sometimes, I would never know!”
(Now, as the read, you will probably think that Gessi was being sarcastic, but the author is telling you that she was indeed being frank.) (Now you will think that the author was being sarcastic by telling you that Gessi was not being sarcastic at all.) (I’m serious.) (No sarcasm.) (Now because the author has said it so many times, you will think that he/she is indeed being sarcastic, well… He/she’s not being sarcastic, dammit, so leave him/her alone.)
Wait a minute… that last author (DAVID: cough: cough: coughing spasm from pretending to cough: clearing of the throat to cover up coughing spasm:) did not indent his paragraphs so the typing author is having difficulties…
Okay she’s good now.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (a phrase which here means “meanwhile, back at the GroovyGrove which is not a ranch or a farm or anything of the sort”)…
“Oh my babies!” Carolyn said. She was cuddling her children against her.
“Oh my god you softie,” said Princess Christa.
“I’m in the mood for a burrito,” Carolyn said.
“Sympathy cravings,” Irene whispered to Princess Christa.
“Idiot,” whispered the princess back. “Sympathy pains are what guys get when they feel bad about impregnating the… girls… that they impregnated… yeah…” Dot dot dot.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (a phrase which here means “meanwhile, back at the HippieHollow which does not even like horses anyway so why is it being referred to as a ranch?”)…
“GIVE THEM TO ME!” Bubna screamed as she chased Zephan around the HippieHollow.
“No, they’re nonexistent!” Zephan cried. “I mean, no, they’re mine!” he yelled back while being chased by a crazy Middle Eastern with a box cutter.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch – Okay, the author feels the need to explain the whole “meanwhile, back at the ranch” thing. So, okay. In A Series of Unfortunate Events number two, the Reptile Room, Lemony Snicket says, “It is now necessary for me to use the rather hackneyed phrase ‘meanwhile, back at the ranch.’ The word ‘hackneyed’ here means ‘used by so, so many writers that by the time Lemony Snicket uses it, it is a rather tiresome cliché.’ ‘Meanwhile, back at the ranch’ is a phrase used to link what is going on in one part of the story to what is going on in another part of the story, and it has nothing to do with cows or horses or with any people who work in rural areas where ranches are, or even ranch dressing, which is creamy and put on salads. Here, the phrase ‘meanwhile, back at the ranch’ refers to what Violet was doing while Klaus and Sunny were in the Reptile room.”
More here, the phrase “meanwhile, back at the ranch” refers to what Zephan and Bubna/ Carolyn and Irene and Princess Christa/ Annette and Navid and Gessi and Ardith were doing while Zephan and Bubna/ Carolyn and Irene and Princess Christa/ Navid and Gessi were in the HippieHollow/ GroovyGrove/ HippieHood.
Thank you. And so we continue:
Meanwhile, not at the ranch but at the HippieHollow…
“I wish Princess Christa were here,” Navid said solemnly. (It was well known that Navid and Princess Christa were going out, but the princess never really stated it out loud.)
(The typing author says that she resents that.)
(She also says why does it need to be stated, anyways? Like, it’s understood, man.)
(She also asks, rhetorically, of course, why she would have said yes anyway if she didn’t mean it.)
(Okay, so pity is a good reason, but Princess Christa isn’t the kind of person who believes in pity unless… someone you know just died or something.)
(And… okay yeah.)
“Oh shut it, chipmunk,” Annette said, giggling.
“Ooooh, Navid,” Ardith giggled.
(What is with the giggling? Don’t get it. And why did Ardith go, “Ooooh, Navid,” anyway? And the typing author just realized that she says “anyway” a lot. So, anyway…)
At this point in the story, the author was going to change over to the GroovyGrove, but decided it was too annoying to keep going back and forth and she didn’t want to say “meanwhile, back at the ranch” anymore, so the author is going to stay in the HippieHood for right now. Well, not literally. He/she is actually probably blowing off some English classwork right now to write this from the comfort of his/her desk. So right on, man.
“So what now?” Gessi finally said.
“You live here!” Annette said, throwing her arms up in the air.
“Yeah…” Gessi looked around. “I guess I can take you guys to the unicorn stables…”
“Ah!” said Navid. “Like Kizzy did on page five!”
So Gessi, Ardith, Navid and Annette went to the unicorn stables where a stableboy was arguing with the stable… leader guy…
“Alec???” Annette exclaimed.
“I thought we were rid of…” Navid began, “never mind that’s mean.”
“WHY THE HELL IS EVERYBODY JUST NOTICING THAT HALF THE THINGS THEY SAY ARE MEAN!” Ardith cried in frustration.
The author just remembered that Gessi is a giant and therefore wouldn’t fit in a unicorn stable. So pretend she is outside…
So Navid, Annette, Ardith and Alec (wow we have too many ‘A’ names) caught up on their lives since… like three days before. Apparently Alec thought that everyone at HippieHollow had died so he traveled to the HippieHood to get a job.
Finally Alec went to feed the unicorns and Navid, Annette and Ardith (and Gessi) (though why her name is in parentheses, I dunno) walked to the magical woods at the edge of the HippieHood (they don’t seem magical…) and built a tree house to sleep in (except for Gessi who was too tall).
As they were just to fall asleep (by the way it was dark out) Ardith said, “Hey, did anyone ever realize that Hitler’s moustache looks like he has hair growing out of his nose?”
Meanwhile (that tends to be a favorite word in this story, does it not?) at the GroovyGrove…
Meanwhile, at the GroovyGrove (that was only repeated because the authors switched and the new one had to get her thoughts straight) so meanwhile, at the GroovyGrove (repeated again for clarity sorry man) SO – meanwhile, at the GroovyGrove (aww screw it) MEANWHILE AT THE GROOVYGROVE PRINCESS CHRISTA AND IRENE WERE TRYING TO CLOTHE THE FRICKIN NUDIE BABIES! (Jeez.) Yeah. The nudie-lookin-like-Zephan-the-poor-bastards babies.
“This one is Daemon,” said Carolyn, pointing at the fleshy water bag in front of her, “this one is Demonica,” she pointed at the one on her left, “and this last one is Francesca.”
“Francesca?” questioned Princess Christa. “A little, um…”
“Not demonic-sounding,” Irene finished.
“I was going to say that,” said the princess, “but I didn’t want to be mean.”
“WHAT THE HELL?” said Ardith from over in the HippieHood.
Carolyn drew her head back in a very Vivien-Leigh-in-Gone-With-the-Wind sort of way. “My grandmother’s name was Francesca. Francesca Groom VIII.”
Silence. Then, “Whatever.”
Meanwhile, back at the ranch – sorry! The author means “meanwhile, back at the HippieHollow…”
Zephan blew his nose very loudly. Somewhere in the distance, Princess Christa laughed.
Meanwhile (damn that word is getting annoying) back at the GroovyGrove…
“I think Gessie is a stupid name,” said Gessie. “Quick, Navid, give me a new one.”
“How’s about CHessie?” asked Ardith with an odd streak of logic. “Eh? Eh? Eh eh eh?”
“Cool,” said Gessie. “But no. Never mind I like Gessie now.”
So then Gessie, Navid and Ardith went off frolicking, and Navid only got stepped on twice by Gessie’s big giant feet. (That’s redundant. Big giant. Ahaha.) (Yeah.)
“Hey guys,” said the more giant giant Leia. Leia was very tall, like Amazon-tall, like taller than Princess Christa, with dark brown hair and basketball shoes.
“Hey giant Giant Leia,” said Navid. “Dammit now I’m REALLY short.”
Gessie started, “You were always really—”
“Jeez sorry for causing such a ruckus,” said Leia. “Yes I did just say ruckus.”
Meanwhile, back at –
Suddenly everyone was back at the HippieHollow. By “everyone” the author means “EVERYone.” That includes Alec, Princess Christa, Leia, Gessie, Ardith, and friends, George Dub-yah Bush, all four authors of this story who still remain nameless, Scooby-Doo, Liz Pennykettle, John Howard the Prime Minister of Australia who died from lack of kangaroos as soon as he appeared but no one really cared, Britney Spears, Andrew “Ender” Wiggin, Santa Clause, Mr. Kann, that girl that bit me that one time, Mrs. So-and-so…erson, Martin Luther (who is dead, yes), Elvis Presley (who is not dead, no), Elvis Costello (who is very cool to chat with, you know), my aunt Karen, Bobby Pendragon, Daniel Nix, the Virgin Mary, that person in my math class who bugs me a lot but I can’t remember his name, Laura Groom, that girl with the sweet voice from the B-52’s, Queen Elizabeth (is she still queen? Hell if I know…), Shelby Loeffler, the guys from Foreigner, Adam Sandler, Faith Hill, Princess Leia (who immediately found out that she was Princess Christa’s long-lost twin sister, along with being Luke’s long-lost twin sister, even though that defies everything in like, all of the Star Wars movies), D.J. McHale, my neighbors Matt and Mikey, Osama Bin Laden, Samantha Madison, J.K. Rowling, the singer from Fleetwood Mac, George Lucas, Mr. Ruiz, Spongebob Squarepants, Queen Latifah, Trisha Elliot, Carrie Fisher who found it very difficult to be there while Princess Leia was there but managed to manage it, the ghost of Freddy Mercury, that teacher who hated my in the fifth grade, Casey Humor, the people from ABBA, Buddha… or Gandhi I can’t remember which, Merrilyn’s hair stylist who should be shot, the “do you have a coin for Christ” guy from that Luther movie, Molly McIntire, Logan Slater, yer mom, and all of the rest of the people who the new author is too lazy to write down.
By the way, before this author continues the story, she would like to point out what a complete DUMBASS the previous author is. “Gessi” doesn’t have an “E” on the end, retard.
To continue… (not meanwhile…) … dot dot dot…
“YES! Eet worrrked!” said a voice from behind them (you have to roll the r’s).
Everyone (and I mean EVERYone… but I’m not gonna repeat all that again… maybe I’ll let the typist repeat all that *hint*hint*hint*…) turned around in a pretty upid-stay (whooo! Pig Latin!) manner.
(Um F.Y.I. the typing author is not going to repeat all those names, though she is very aware of the fact that she could just cut & paste whatever man.)
Ms. Salila stood before everyone (and I mean EVERYone… *insert list here*) (not) grinning maniacally.
Navid hugged Princess Christa around the knees (cuz that’s how high he could reach). “YOU’RE HERE!” he cried. He was completely oblivious to what was happening because he was short and therefore couldn’t see anything.
“Hey! The balloon is back.” Ardith pointed up. She was oblivious, too, being (sadly) even shorter than Navid. How that happened since the first few pages, where Navid was shorter, I dunno.
Suddenly Demonica crawled up and popped Ardith in her mouth. Ardith was very uncomfortable in the demon child’s mouth. It was hot and all spit-ified. You may be thinking, wow that’s unrealistic, a baby being able to crawl and pop Ardiths into her mouth just a few minutes after she is born. But Xafriaf was on daylight’s speeding time, remember?
But no one noticed Ardith’s misfortune because everyone (and I mean EVERYone… except for Ardith, Demonica and Navid, of course) were looking at crazy Ms. Salila who, despite that fact that she had just spent the majority of this story running down the Meenakshyamma Mountains was not breathing heavily or sweaty. And if anyone thinks that that unscientific or whatever… then you can SHOVE IT! (Teehee I sound mean.)
“Finally after years or working! I’ve got eet!” Ms. Salila held up her fizzing beaker.
Everyone (and I mean EVERYone… except for Ardith and Navid) blinked.
“What the hell?” Princess Christa stared at the crazy science hermit. Ms. Salila’s beard had grown down to her knees in all the years she’d been living in her cave.
“Why does she have a beard?” whispered Carolyn.
“Why shouldn’t she?” Alec retorted.
“Women and beards just don’t work!” said the bearded lady.
“Whooooooo! I broke the silence!” Irene shouted. “Back to you, Senorita Salila.”
“Thank you Irene, now… Dustin!” Ms. Salila pointed at Kizzy’s pathetic love-slave.
“I knew you loved me best!” He gave Ms. Salila a hug.
“STOP IT!” You’re pulling on my beard!” Ms. Salila hit Justin on the head.
Dustin leapt back and stared at Ms. Salila.
“Anyways… I have dee potion. Eet make mee happee. Eet make mee laugh. Eet make you meez-rabble.”
The author would just like to point out that the word “meez-rabble” sounds like a cool new ghetto slang word. Whooo! Ghetto slang!
Dustin swallowed in mock-fright.
“Now I weel just drop this on hees head…” Ms. Salila tipped the beaker on his head and a single drop of blue liquid fell on his head.
Dustin suddenly turned into an ass. A donkey, that is.
“Hee-haw – oly shit!” he cried (yes, he is a talking donkey… Just like in Shrek!)
Demonica spat out Ardith in astonishment.
Carolyn fainted (as is standard procedure for handmaidens in fairytales… I think… maybe not… whatever… she fainted okay?)
Kizzy screamed. “I can’t…” She looked around; “uh… play jump rope…” she coughed, “…with a donkey!” She ran forwards and threw her arms around Dustin. “Oh Dustin, my pathetic love-slave.” She wept.
Princess Christa stuck her tongue out. “Hey man, that’s just sick.”
Ms. Salila stared at Dustin. Everyone else did too (except for Navid and Ardith who couldn’t see).
“Well, it’s been great but I gotta go head back to my village.” George Dub-yah Bush walked toward Air Force One, which was conveniently located for him several feet away. “They just called and said their idiot was missing… so I’m gonna go help them look for him. See ya later!” George Dub-yah Bush flew away.
Somewhere in the crowd, Mory danced a celebratory jig.
Ms. Salila suddenly ran back up the mountains, leaving the still semi-full beaker on the ground next to Dustin. Kizzy grabbed the beaker and dropped a drop on her own head. She suddenly “Pu~fwoooooohhhhh”ed into a rabbit. She started to cry and she and Dustin ran off into the woods. Just like Devin.
*insert salila theme song*
Every then randomly dispersed except for Princess Christa, Navid, Ardith, Carolyn, Daemon, Demonica, and Francesca.
The new “everyone” suddenly realized that Ardith was covered in spit.
“Eww! Ardith, what happened?” Carolyn said, picking the tiny fairy jester up with her fingers (no with her nose… God I’m retarded).
Ardith glared at the baby Demonica, and amazingly considering the fact that she had just been born and her eyebrows weren’t really formed yet, the demon child glared back. “She almost ate me and all you guys could do was look at Ms. Salila!” Ardith thrust her hands into the air.
“Well, she did have a beard,” Princess Christa pointed out.
Ardith considered this. “True… but c’mon, is Ms. Salila having a beard more important than my life?”
Navid looked at Princess Christa who in turn looked at Carolyn who in turn looked at Navid.
“Yes,” they replied.
“Well, it was a rhetorical question, anyway,” Ardith mumbled.
A brief awkward silence occurred before Navid cried out “OW!” clearly in a pain of some sort.
“What?” Ardith looked at Navid in a quizzical manner.
“Something just hit me! It came from over there…” Navid started walking over to a bush. He was about to look behind it when Princess Christa grabbed his wrist.
“Wait. Remember the last time we looked behind a bush?” They all shuddered at the memory of Zephan flogging his log. “It just occurred to me that we left Zephan at the HippieHollow still possessed by the Canadian devil.”
“Whatever,” said Ardith.
“Mad!” said Carolyn.
“Right.” Navid stepped back. “Ardith why don’t you look in the bush?”
“Okay!” The easily manipulated (not easy… easily manipulated, you sicko high school horndogs…) fairy jester stepped forward and parted the bush.
A chipmunk stood before them. “Navid?” the chipmunk asked?
“Mommy?” Navid whimpered.
(Note: the next author laughed for about an hour after reading this until that Carlos kid sitting in the seat in front of her on the bus threw his hands into the air and cried, “Christy! What the hell?” and she shut up.)
(Note: the authors of this story aren’t supposed to have names, so… yeah.)
(Note: so, like, forget the name was mentioned.)
(Note: …what name???)
The author who had just started writing would like to resent all of the height jokes made about Navid. Because Navid is… like awesome man. Not.
“Mommy, is that you?” Navid asked.
“Of course you dumbass, why, is there another talking chipmunk who knows your name?” Navid’s mommy siad, I mean said. She then added with a weird smirk on her face, “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Um… sure,” Navid answered.
“Ooooooooooooh my baby’s growing up.”
During all of this, Christa was really starting to get agitated. She then picked up Navid’s mommy (hehe mommy) and threw her out the window only to have her fall into the acid moat and get eaten alive by the acid-proof alligators.
Navid started to cry. “What the hell?!” He sniffed all the mucus back up his nose (that was gross… I know). “You just killed my mommy!” (haha mommy)
“Get over it,” Princess Christa said.
“Yeah,” said Ardith. “I mean, really. What do you get a chipmunk for mother’s day?”
“Nuts?” (No, sicko… like acorns…)
Suddenly the author got bored and had to take an English test and then forgot what she was gonna do with this story.
Suddenly the author came back, having just done a two-person test with one of the other authors and this author was a bit delighted to know that the other is not a complete idiot after all.
So Navid forgot about his mother and he and Ardith did puppet shows for the demon triplets with their feet. Which was all nice and good… until the triplets started to bite off their toes.
“Duckie, duckie, duckie,” Daemon yelled excitedly, “EAT IT!” Daemon then yelled in a very non-infant-sounding voice.
“Ow!” Navid yelled after just about having his foot eaten. “What kind of six month old (I really don’t know how long it’s been) wants to eat duckies?”
“I dunno,” Ardith said, clearly hammered.
“Hey did you see that episode of That ‘70s Show where Hide goes to the prom with Jackie and when they’re leaving the house, you hear from inside, ‘They’re all gonna laugh at you!’ It was funny…” Navid remarked.
“Oh yeah… It was funny,” Princess Christa said whilst (hehe Shakespeare) listening to her iPod. “Oh my god this is the best song ever!”
“Oh, what song?” asked Navid.
“ ‘(Don’t Fear) The Reaper’ by Blue Öyster Cult,” Princess Christa responded, performing an impressive air guitar.
(Note: those ()’s in the title of the song are merely implied, she didn’t actually say, “Open parentheses don’t fear close parentheses the reaper” because that would sound very homosexual. End of note.)
(Nor did she say, “Open quote open parentheses don’t fear close parentheses the reaper close quote.”)
“By the way,” Carolyn brought up, “where’re Zephan and Bubna?”
In the room mentioned on page sixteen… well you probably don’t remember. It’s the Meeting-with-foes-who-have-managed-to-get-across-the-Wall-wheather-with-or-without-inside-assistance-that-is-a-pretty FUCK I messed up, well, it’s that room.
“GIVE THEM TO ME!!!” Bubna yelled louder.
The new author would first like to point out that “wheather” is not a word. “Weather” is what you talk about when there is nothing else to talk about, or when you are trying to ask someone about something awkward and you want to start out by talking about something boring, or if your father says to you at some fancy dinner party, “Oh, Christina, hi. I want you to meet my old friend Thomas Rutger, who got a Ph.D. in Anthropologic philosophy and went to Harvard and he’s brilliant and I just know that the two of you will have a nice little chat now” and you are left alone with this brainiac and you have nothing to talk about except the concept of weather, and then he explains how to use a barometer, etcetera. “Whether” would be the proper usage here, and it means “if the case be that” which sounds Irish or Shakespearian or Australian, but that’s what the New International Webster’s pocket dictionary of the English language says.
Next, the new author asks why Bubna and Zephan are meeting in the Meeting-with-foes-who-have-managed-to-get-across-the-Wall-whether-with-or-without-inside-assistance-even-though-if-they-got-in-with-out-inside-assistance-that-is-a-pretty-big-feat-and-they-probably-deserve-to-talk-with-whoever-is-present-at-the-time-at-the-HippieHollow-even-if-they-are-a-foe Room.
And, yes, the author realizes that “without” is one word, despite that she spelled it as two words in the previous paragraph, thank you very much.
So, the new author, who is finally finished criticizing the previous author’s grammatical skills, asks why Bubna and Zephan are in the room-whose-name-will-not-be-repeated-for-fear-of-having-the-author’s-hand-fall-off. Mean, yes, okay, Zephan and Bubna are foes, but not of Princess Christa, specifically. Zephan is the princess’s enemy, and an enemy of her enemy is her friend, but she’s Bubna’s enemy too, so what the hell does that make them?
We should all speak Yiddish; the author already said this.
Just forget that the author asked.
The current author would like to ask why the hell all of the authors refer to themselves and their fellow authors in the third person. The authors have no purpose for doing this, and it confuses a lot of people, especially the current author, who has to figure it all out as she writes.
And the current author would like to point out that under normal circumstances it would be scientifically impossible to speak to the characters of a fictional story.
“No it’s not,” said Ardith.
“Yes it is,” said the current author.
“NO – it’s not,” said Ardith.
“Yes it is,” said Ardith.
“NO it is NOT,” said Ardith.
The current author threw her hands up into the air. Then she yelled, “This is fruitless! It is impossible!”
Then, “NO IT IS NOT.”
The current author just wrote Ardith out of this portion of the story.
But the balloon stayed forever.
So, now, the current author and you must discuss what happened to Zephan. The current author would prefer not to, but it is her duty as a writer to inform you.
Uh, okay, it’s not going to be a discussion so much as a telling of a story within a story.
It was a cold February evening. Zephan’s mother was in a great deal of pain, but Zephan was a’chargin’ through—
Nuff-o-that. Let’s speed up a bit.
Zephan grew up a pretty little girl, but then as he got older, everything went horribly wrong.
He met a bike.
And then he got ugly and acne-y.
And then he met Carolyn, and he got very push over-y, and Carolyn’s sane friends almost shot her.
And then he impregnated her and then fell to his death, maybe, but you already knew that.
So Zephan, being girly and limber, managed to only land on his girlish butt. As he did so he thought mournfully of Carolyn’s butt, and then got over it.
So he was okay, essentially, save for his pained butt and longing for Carolyn’s equally feminine butt.
What? Oh, never mind.
So, what happened last? Oh, right. Princess Christa was doing an impressive air guitar a few pages ago. Cool. Let us continue.
-If it’s not a perfect square, then it is irrational. For instance, the square of 47 is irrational. The square of 2 is irrational. All irrational numbers are real numbers, as opposed to make-believe numbers.
-8/2 is natural, whole, rational, real, and an integer. I know this because I am not an idiot and I know that 8/2 is four, dillhole.
Sorry. Those are my Algebra notes. I ran out of black paper. Blank paper. Please disregard them.
Princess Christa was doing an impressive air guitar, and that phrase is being repeated for the third time now, when suddenly Carolyn stood up.
“What is it?” Navid asked.
Carolyn closed her eyes. “I felt a disturbance in the Force. Like two balls were crying out in pain and then were silenced.”
So, um. Princess Christa, Navid, Carolyn (who was still deeply disturbed), Irene, Ardith, Daemon, Demonica, and Francesca (I don’t think there was anyone else… whatever) and (oh, wait! I remember) and Annette went back to the HippieHollow.
(Wait. Where were they before? Some random location in the woods… hmmm…)
Back at the HippieHollow, Bubna was sitting in a purple butterfly chair in the living room with a cross look on her face. Yeah.
“What’s wrong?” Princess Christa asked her.
“You don’t care,” said Bubna.
“You’re right.” Princess Christa turned to leave.
“Wait, okay.” Bubna stood up. “I cut off Zephan’s balls but then he grabbed them, packed them in ice, and ran off to the hospital to get them put back on.”
“AHA!” cried Carolyn. “YOU cut off the balls of my lover!”
Silence. Then, “Eww.”
“So what now?” asked Navid.
“We should just… chill,” said Princess Christa with a grinning smile-smirk on her face.
One stick of incense and a ton of peer pressure later:
“Hem hem,” Navid coughed, sounding a lot like Professor Umbridge in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. He then said, “This is great, your highness.”
“I told you,” said Princess Christa, giggling.
Cough, cough, Ardith coughed. “Yeah, man, this kicks ass!”
Annette said, “I should totally show this stuff to my homies at church!”
Irene was laughing. And she laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And etcetera.
Carolyn snorted. “We never did THIS in Australia.”
Navid said, “You know… Australia? It’s for Australians. You know, Australians are the people in Australia. You know.”
“No way!” cried Princess Christa. “That’s like, mind-boggling! Boggle, boggle, boggle—”
“Man!” Ardith giggled. “This kicks ass!”
“I,” started Annette,” don’t think that the sky is really blue. I mean, space must be black, so the sky is blue because the space is black and you know, blue-black, man!”
“It’s the man, man,” stated Princess Christa. “The establishment just wants you to think that the sky is blue, because they know it makes us feel safe, and if we all feel safe, then what do we need the government for? Exactly. Damn the US government. I hate the fuzz. And, plus. The establishment doesn’t want us having sex, because it makes us feel good. And if we can feel good by ourselves, then what the hell do we need the establishment for? So, every time we have sex, it’s like we’re mounting a huge protest.”
“Zephan’s not good at protesting,” said Carolyn.
Irene laughed. And laughed. And etcetera.
“I like protesting,” commented Navid.
“No you don’t,” said Princess Christa.
Navid coughed. “They don’t want the sky to be like green or anything, because they know it makes us horny, man!”
“Please, someone else talk now,” said Navid. He started eating a popsicle. “Popsicle?” he offered Princess Christa (well, more like the space to the right of him, because we couldn’t see Princess Christa from this camera angle).
Princess Christa looked disdainfully at the popsicle in the currently bodiless, outstretched hand next to her. “No.”
Navid handed the popsicle – WHY THE HELL DOES THIS FREAKING COMPUTER KEEP WANTING TO CAPITALIZE THE WORD POPSICLE??? IT’S FUCKING OBNOXIOUS!!! – to the left of him, and Annette’s hand appeared out of nowhere to take it. Navid muttered, “Freakin anorexic.”
Princess Christa looked skeptical. “Do I LOOK anorexic?”
Silence. Then, “No.”
“But looks can be deceiving.”
“Shut up!” Princess Christa fumed, “It’s the government, man. They say that anyone out of the norm is automatically weird, despite the fact that the definition of ‘weird’ is ‘anything out of the norm.’ Screw the government, man, just screw it.”
“Er…” Navid started. “Princess Christa, you kind of are the government. Aren’t you?”
“Navid,” Carolyn whined, “I just realized that, while we’ve been in this totally radical high circle, my triplets have been absent. Go find them.”
“No way! Last time I tried to hang with them I almost lost my foot.”
Irene said, “Oh, Carolyn, I poofed them into the Darling Devil Daycare. Um.”
“Hey shut up this is the best song ever,” said Princess Christa.
“What song is it?”
“ ‘Ah Leah’ by Donnie Iris.”
PUNCH! “Stupid Australian…”
“¥ Since you’ve been gone/ since you’ve been gone/ I’m out of my head/ can’t take it/ could I be wrong/ but since you’ve been gone/ you cast a spell so break it! ¥ It’s a good song, really.”
“Shut up, Your Highness!” everyone shouted.
“Beggin’ your pardon, miss,” Carolyn added, remembering her place as a handmaiden, as none of the authors have managed to do thus far.
Princess Christa looked lamely at Carolyn. “Don’t talk like you’re from the freakin’ middle ages, stupid Australian.”
“Mad!” cried Carolyn.
“Demosthenes…” muttered Ardith.
“Resent! Resent! Resent!” said Princess Christa.
“Cerebellum!” cried Annette.
“Indiana Jones!” yelled Irene.
“Crumb!” shouted Princess Christa.
“Yer mom,” said Navid.
“In your pants,” added Ardith.
“Smiiiiiite!” cried Annette.
“Face!” howled Irene.
“Fudgemonkey!” yelled Princess Christa.
“Shock the Monkey!” Carolyn shouted.
“Wumbo!” shouted Irene.
Silence. She elaborated, “You know… wumbo? I wumbo, you wumbo, he/she/they wumbo, wumbo, wumboing, wumbology – it’s first grade, Spongebob!”
Just now the author got quite fed up with having to use this borrowed college-rule paper (she knows that that won’t make sense once this is typed up) so she is wasting paper and switching to wide-rule now.
So – enough of the ramblings of the high court of Xafriaf. (Funny how the high court of Xafriaf consists of an incompetent princess, an elf, a fairy-jester, an obnoxious prophet, a minstrel, and a handmaiden.)
“This story needs a plot,” Princess Christa thought aloud.
“Yeah,” Navid agreed, just for the sake of agreeing. “A plot would be nice. Um. So what do we do about it?”
“We could just… chill,” said Princess Christa.
“Oh, no,” said Navid. “Not that again. I see enough of that on That ‘70s Show.”
Navid shut up.
“I vote we have a pun war,” said Princess Christa. “It’ll be PUNNY! Ahahahahahahaha.”
“Well, I’d win, anyway, so it would have been pointless.”
Silence. Then, “Yeah, you are the punniest one in our group,” said Irene. Then she started laughing.
“Uh!” cried Princess Christa. “I just used that pun! You can’t steal it! That’s what we call a piggy-back pun.”
“No it isn’t bitch,” Irene said.
“Fight, fight, fight,” chanted Navid.
Cue catfight. Princess Christa and Irene began slapping each other, and after about five minutes of this, they both pulled out a handgun and blew each other’s brains out.
Silence. The, giggle, giggle.
“That was funny,” said Princess Christa, reassembling herself. “I mean PUNNY.”
“Yeah,” agreed Irene, reassembling too. “Punny punny punny punny. Punny.”
“Shut up,” Princess Christa told her.
At this moment in time, the author needs inspiration and is therefore going downstairs to have herself a grilled cheese sandwich, having forgotten to eat breakfast. And she is not anorexic, thank you very much.
So what now? the author asks herself. I dunno, she answers herself. Why am I talking to myself? the author asks herself. I dunno, the author answers herself.
The current author just made the font on her computer really big. At first she made it so big she could only fit like, three words on a page. But now she can fit at least ten or fifteen. It is very amusing to be typing with a font this big. Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
See? That consumed a whole page. How amusing-funny-licious.
Oh, sorry. The current author just accidentally pressed the “paste” button and I guess glockenspiel is what was set for paste. So the author had herself a good long laugh at the sudden appearance of the word glockenspiel, and then realized that her “delete” key was still stuck and decided to tell you all about it, since she has no life, even though she did just get back from a totally kick-ass Rory birthday party where Ella talked about grinding with chicks and Malcolm got defensive about his hair and Fred got tired and hated bowling and Alex told David that he called me Jane because the current author had a shirt a while ago that said “See Jane, see Jane, play, Jane plays like a girl, so you’d better stay out of Jane’s way,” and he elaborated, “You know, like Jane of the jungle?” and David said, “That is so hot,” and the current author threw a pillow at him and Rory just sat back enjoying the malarkey that is his friends. Oh yeah and Mimi was there too, but she’s normal.
Haha small print. How funny. So…
SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE UP SPACE TAKE
See? That only took up, like, an eighth of a page. Small print, Yeah. I can hardly see it, it’w so small. Wad that a typo? I can’s even tell. Ahh` Help! I dunno….
Jeez. This story is so fucking long that if the current author puts it at ten percent, like page-size, and 75-point font, it takes up seventy-two pages to fit on one screen. There are 1866 pages in all.
Okay, so like, back to the story, man…
Princess Christa decided she wanted to have another high circle. So they went to the basement in the HippieHollow, and assembled the people of Xafriaf who’d consent to be a part of a high circle.
Princess Christa, Navid, Mory, Annette, Carolyn, Ardith, Bella, and Red.
“Once again,” said Princess Christa. “This kicks ass.”
Mory coughed into his hand. “I brought incense, guys! It smells like black people. It made Princess Christa sneeze.”
Annette was laughing to herself. “Sneeze… D’you ever stop n’think what a funny word that is? Sneeze, sneeze, sneeze.”
(The author would also like to point out how difficult the word “sneeze” is to type over and over on a computer keyboard.)
“Hey!” cried Carolyn disdainfully. “This isn’t Australia!”
Ardith was flitting hyperly around the left-hand corner of her camera frame. “Woo!”
Bella was pinching the area around her waist. “Am I fat?” she asked. “Never mind. Is Pete an ass? I think so. I mean, I didn’t mean to dance with him. I have a puppy dog face.”
“You’re not fat,” said Princess Christa.
“But my boobs are small.”
“Wanna compare and contrast?”
“No… flatso…” Bella giggled to herself.
“I represent that!” said Princess Christa. “I am not flat. I mean, even though I do still wear training bras sometimes because that’s all that fits… … and Zephan told me I was flat. WHY THE HELL DID ZEPHAN LOOK WHEN I ASKED HIM IF I WAS FLAT? HE’S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING AT ME THERE!”
“I know,” said Bella, her eyes closed peacefully.
“Right on,” said Carolyn. “I threatened him because he told you that.”
“Ooh, threat,” Princess Christa mocked. “I mean… thanks…”
“Why was Zephan looking at your boobs, your highness?” asked Navid.
“No reason.” Pause. “Stop looking at my boobs, elf!” Pause. PUNCH! “I said, stop looking at my boobs!”
“What boobs?” laughed Annette.
“The ones that are bigger than yours, dillhole.”
“My boobs are small,” whined Bella. “Even compared to yours, your highness.”
“How flattering,” said Princess Christa.
Mory grinned. “Red’s boobs are nice…”
“Hey, look!” cried Princess Christa. “In the sky! It’s a bird… it’s a plane… no, it’s Superman, causing a complete change in the direction of this conversation!”
“Looks more like Aquaman to me,” said Navid, squinting at the ceiling of the basement of the HippieHollow, which was completely sans-Aquaman, or any other superhero, for that matter.
“Aquaman can’t fly, dillhole,” said Princess Christa. “He swims.” She rolled her eyes. “Idiot…”
“You know what?” giggled Red the nymph. “My socks have kiwis on them. The kiwis are cut, you know, because looking at the outside of a kiwi is boring. But the insides of kiwis are cool. You know?”
A grapefruit DISCREETLY appeared on Navid’s foot.
Princess Christa immediately stated the existence of the grapefruit. “Like, dude, you totally have a grapefruit phooeying on your foot, man… or should I say… whatever the hell you are, chipmunk or whatever.”
“WHAT?!” Navid stated as waterfall tears streamed down his face.
“Grapefruit! Foot! CoOoOoNnNnSsSsSsUuUuMming!”
“Oh. I did karate on it,” Navid stated proudly. (The typing author would like to point out that the writing author uses the word “state” a lot. So, yeah. OBSERVE!)
Ardith stuck her balloon under her shirt in a sign of mockery. “Ahm Caroleen! Ah geet pregneet from transvestites!”
“Tuesday’s coming, did you bring your cat?” Irene asked, full of wit (tee-hee).
“I,” Carolyn pooed, “AHM A BANANA!”
Everyone present, besides Carolyn, stared in deep silence. (How the hell is silence deep, anyway? No comprendo! Aye, aye! Er – yeah.)
Carolyn STATED after a few minutes of attention because she had not received any for a while, “Ahm a veeteeran too Y’KNO!”
Princess Christa was about to give the meaning of life because she’s awesome like that and has been holding out –
WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN!
(Here the current author leaves the story to the next author…)
Devin fell out of the sky… holding hands with… MR. QUEER!!!
Suddenly scary music began to play. Mr. Queer fell on the black-people incense and put it out.
Ardith screamed. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth muttering to herself, “Queer… so queer… stop the queer-ness… why won’t he go away?”
Navid and Annette went over to comfort her.
Irene stood up angrily and yelled, “Hey! Mr. Queer! You stole that awesome Prett-reviving scene from me earlier! I’m gonna kick your ass!”
“Who the hell is that?” asked Mory.
“I think it’s Mr. Queer,” said Red. “I’ve heard spooky stories about him. I’m hungry.”
Bella leapt back in fright. “Be careful! The queer-ity is potentially contagious!”
Princess Christa stood up, looking really angry (considering that she was). “What the hell, man? We were getting WASTED!”
Mr. Queer stood up and dusted off his very girly pants and pink shirt with ruffles. He then spent ten minutes re-applying his chapstick while everyone else patiently and angrily awaited a response.
“Getting high is okay, I guess,” he finally said with a very queer lisp-y voice. “Just as long as you wash your hands when you’re done.”
(If you’ll observe, he also said this several pages in the past.)
Five minutes later:
“Wow. I didn’t know they let queers into high circles,” said Mr. Queer, coughing and laughing at the same time, creating a gay laugh-cough effect.
“It’s great isn’t it?” Princess Christa asked.
“Huhuhuhuhuh,” said Devin.
“Why am I surrounded by the queers?” Princess Christa cried. “Get them the hell away from me!”
“Not queer, your highness,” said Mr. Queer, “just different.”
Princess Christa looked dumbly at Mr. Queer. “Dude,” she told him. “You are a queer. Your name is MR. QUEER, for god’s sake.”
“QUEER!” screamed Red. “Sorry,” she laughed quietly.
“Not queer, your highness,” said Devin as he dropped out of the sky. He then got up and ran into the woods. “Just gay.”
“I need a boyfriend,” whined Bella. “Mory, get me a boyfriend. NOW.”
“Screw Bush,” said Mory. “We should just kill them all – kill…” Here he started laughing compulsively.
Red laughed her funny laugh. “Hey,” she said seriously. “How come everyone laughs in a high circle?” She then burst out laughing again.
Princess Christa laughed.
Mr. Queer laughed, and then snorted into his hands. “Ah!” he shrieked. “Unsanitary!” He then got up from his rickety chair and ran to the nearest sink.
Devin laughed, and then noticed that that Mr. Queer had left and ran after him.
Bella laughed. Then she looked skeptically at her own boobs. Then she laughed again. Then she put on a suddenly grave face. Then she laughed again.
“G’day, mate!” cried Carolyn through a laugh. “G’day! G’day, mate!”
“Shut up, Australian,” snapped Princess Christa. Her highness then looked around at her friends and laughed.
Cue birds-eye view of the high circle. “8-6-7-5-3-0-9,” sang the group highly together.
“That was great,” Carolyn said. Then she sang, “8-6-7-5-3-0-9! 8-6-7-5-3-0-9! Something, lala, yeah! 8-6-7-5-3-0-9!”
“Remind me that I don’t like that song anymore,” Princess Christa whispered in Navid’s ear, which was off-camera but still existent. “Her freakin accent just ruined it, man.”
“I can HEAR YOU!” Carolyn said and then shouted at Princess Christa.
“I know,” said Princess Christa. Silence. “Uh… yer mom!”
Okay. The author’s father is concerned that if children were to read this story (though what kind of mother/father/other sort of guardian who is not a mother or a father would let their kid read a story like this, I dunno…) and try to imitate some of the stuff occurring. So, the current author would like to remind you never to participate in a high circle, bike off of a cliff, permit Ms. Salila to put strange droplets on your head, attend a dance while wearing shoes that hurt if you don’t like to dance, feel Red’s boobs, get your math homework mixed in with your totally awesome story, ask someone where they last had their boyfriend, speak to a crazy broad named Salila Kumari Meenakshyamma, have a broken ‘delete’ key, drink kiwi-lime soda (oh wait, that’s not relevant), declare that the Posies are the best band ever and that their song “Dream All Day” is the best song ever in mixed company, this does not apply to the actual plot of this story but leave an insulting story behind in your English teacher’s classroom (no matter how cool he may be), fall out of the sky in front of the most recently mentioned of all of the story characters and then get up and run into the woods, eat an apple if it will make your ears hurt afterwards, sing the telephone number of some poor soul named Jenny who lives in like Arizona or North Carolina or Adetmoure or something, use the word “concur” like eight times in three sentences, consent to let yourself fall into a acid lake of acid-proof alligators, tell your guys friends that you think your boobs are too small (especially if you’re a guy yourself), turn down a popsicle when the offerer… er… er… ererer is high, stand on a pretentious ledge which will later cause you to fall to your doom, throw stones at bitches named Kizzy, not legally change your last name if it is QUEER, tell an evil notsorceress that she’s in therapy, step in unicorn shit, say “yer mom” to someone nice, reveal the good bit to a story a bit too early (NAVID!), say “bit” while sounding like Merrilyn, t.p. your foe’s house (unless you can’t get caught), wear chapstick, allow Kizzy to place a log-flogging curse on you, look behind bushes, attempt to have a nice normal relationship or even a nice normal conversation with a Canadian, steal Air Force One, be incurably queer, get pregnant with demonic triplets, get someone pregnant with demonic triplets, wear crazily pouffy dresses (especially if they are pink), cut off an incompetent knight’s balls, or EVER (ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever) flip your hair.
Carolyn said, “I wonder when Zephan’s gonna get back.”
“Hey, guys!” cried Zephan, entering Carolyn’s camera frame. “I was down at the hospital and they put my manliness back on!”
“What manliness?” laughed Princess Christa. “I bet even Navid’s got more manliness than you!”
“Er…” said Navid. “Um… LOOK! SUPERMAN!”
“Hey!” snapped Princess Christa. “That’s my thing that I say! Dillhole.” She then proceeded to punch him on the shoulder.
Navid paused. “Yer mom.”
“Hey!” snapped Princess Christa. “That’s my other thing that I say! Dillhole!”
Right now the author has to go see her aunt about a tortoise, and so she leaves the rest of this portion of the story to her comrade.
So anyways… to continue…
Annette looked around. “Hey, does it bother anyone that we’ve been sitting in this high circle for the past five pages?”
Ardith choked on some phlegm.
“Phlegm girl!” Navid rolled his eyes.
“You do you know they call me that?”
Navid laughed. Then in a spontaneous case of ADD (that was redundant) Navid brought out his air guitar and strummed a chord. “Hey, I can play ‘More Than a Feeling’ by Boston!”
From off-screen, Carolyn, Ardith, Princess Christa, Annette, Mory, Red and Bella all cried “YOU SAY THAT EVERY DAY!”
“Oh yeah.” Navid put away his air guitar.
Ardith looked around suspiciously. Navid’s arm came onto the screen and started hitting Ardith with an empty water bottle. Ardith bared her teeth and growled. “I’ll BITE YOU!”
Suddenly Mory, Red, Bella and Annette fell into the void with the rotten carrot. Out of the void drifted a misty blackish, silvery, misshapen weirdo creature thingy. “Nooooooooooooooo biiiiiiittttttiiiiiiinnnnggggg…” it whispered.
“Carrot… void… no biting?” Ardith bit her lip in complete and utter confusion.
“I am Arual! The shape-shifter!” The creature suddenly morphed into a flying mermaid wow that is really contradictory.
Navid looked over at an off-screen Princess Christa.
“Navid stop looking at me!” Princess Christa glared at an off-screen Navid.
“So guys. Let’s do something since this story is lacking a plot,” said Arual.
Navid nodded. Then he punched the camera. The camera let out a piercing, high-pitched (and girly, I might add) scream, shuddered, and died.
Carolyn wiped away a tear with her pinky finger. “He was such a good camera.”
Ardith raised her eyebrow (this is implying that one of her TWO eyebrows was raised, not that she has a unibrow). “Well, I guess we should have a funeral.”
All of the others nodded in agreement. (No, they nodded in opposition. Stupid writing author…)
So Navid went off and hired Tarah the hunchback gypsy lady to bury the camera and Carolyn went off to invite people to the funeral. Princess Christa, Ardith and Arual got high for a little longer.
So everyone gathered. And I mean EVERYone: Princess Christa, Navid, Ardith, Carolyn, Arual, Tarah, Annette, Mory, Red, Bella, Irene, Zephan, Mr. and Mrs. Zephan’s parents, Karis, Corgan, Devin (who brought Mr. Queer with him and comforted him when he cried), Jake, Alec, Sharon, Stephie, Kizzy, Cory, Kori (who ran away after flipping her hair in Alec’s face and having him slap her), Dustin the donkey-boy, Ms. Salila, Rochelle, Stefanny, Summer, Timmy, the water-chipmunks from page 5, the Aborigines from page 8, Don McLean, Elvis, George Bush and his village tribe, Bubna, the passing birds and small mammals from page 18, the color-changing balloon, Gessi, Leanne, Colonel Will, Anaira she-who-is-impaired-in-the-art-of-walking-up-and-down-stairs, the demon bastard children, Navid’s homosexual phone, Leia, the bearded lady, the guy who chucked Jell-O at me yesterday at lunch, Tarah’s dad the Pope of Xafriaf (despite the fact that no one in this story is of any religion… except for the Yiddish-speaking Jews), the guy who gave Zephan and Mr. Queer their sex changes (what an unfortunate man), and Matt McConnell Matt McConnell.
So Tarah buried the camera and then everyone went around and said nice things about the camera.
“What a Gebronie,” Colonel Will said.
“I can’t get high without him,” Princess Christa said.
“What is this camera? What is this camera? This camera is the thing that used to give my life purpose and direction… but now it just mocks me with its cruel indifference,” Irene said in a very emotional manner. (Yes, that was taken from the Spongebob episode where Squidward played a trick on Spongebob and made him think he lost his “laugh-box.”)
So then Tarah put in the gravestone and everyone put down flowers and bows and potted plants and a few buttons and a cookie and then they all dispersed. Except for Princess Christa, Navid, Alec, Ardith, Irene, Carolyn (Zephan took the demon triplets back to his house to breast-feed), Red, Mory, Bella, and Annette.
“So what now?” Navid asked.
“I dunno,” said Princess Christa.
Ardith choked on some more phlegm.
“I know!” said Navid. “Let’s go see the great Master Baiter!”
Everyone’s eyes got really wide. Annette stuck out her tongue.
Navid looked around at everyone’s shocked and/or disgusted expressions. “Ew! Not that! Master Baiter, sickos.”
“Ohhh…” There was a collective ‘oh’ as represented of realization by the previous “ohhh…” in the previous sentence. Previously.
So the ten amigops went a trekkin’ up to the third highest peak of the Meenakshyamma Mountains where they soon approached a tall copper tower with a glass dome at the top.
“Eww…” Alec shuddered.
Annette and her Catholicity winced.
Princess Christa just thought it was funny. So she laughed. As most people do when they find something funny. Don’t you hate it when you are laughing in class and your teacher says “Do you find something funny?” when you obviously do? Yeah. I thought so. …CEREBELLUM!
They knocked on the door and a little guy who cried out of his eyebrows answered the door. Not that he was crying at this moment, out of his eyebrows or otherwise. And then there was a big repeat of that scene from the Wizard of Oz. And the guy-who-cries-out-of-his-eyebrows-whose-name-is-apparently-hyphenated led them into a parlor where a grimy hobo was sitting, drinking tea.
“Hi. I’m Nalcolm, the Great Master Baiter.” The hobo took a sip of tea.
Annette and her Catholicity winced again.
Camera move. Oh, sorry. Habit. I’m used to it. Old habits die hard. Or, you know, difficultly.
“What brings you to my tower of Master Bation?” he said, opening his arms in welcome.
“Well,” said Ardith, “our story didn’t have much of a plot so our author wrote us going/ coming here. So actually… we don’t really know what we’re doing here.” Ardith shrugged. She then discreetly flicked off the writing author and peace-ed the typing author. (The typing author would like to point out that the term is “flipped off” to prove that she isn’t an ignorant sonofamother.)
“Well then, would you like some tea?”
Everyone looked at the dusty, covered-with-dried-mucus, cracked teakettle and shook their heads. “No.” Except for Red. Nalcolm poured her some tea. “I wonder how often that guy washes his hands…” Annette wondered to Princess Christa.
Navid looked at Nalcolm skeptically. “Hey, didn’t you go out with Tarah the hunchback gypsy lady?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Nalcolm, “and then she tried to break up with me but I wouldn’t let her. But then Bubna castrated me so I gave up.” He shrugged and wiped her greasy hair on his shirt.
Alec grimaced. “It’s so… greasy!” he whispered in Ardith’s ear. (The typing author would just like to say that she, for one, happens to like Nalcolm’s hair, and Alec shouldn’t talk about greasy hair, anyway. He’s got as much gel in his hair as John Travolta in Grease.) Ardith nodded and flapped her wings uncomfortably.
Irene then noticed Navid holding something. “Navid, what is that?” Irene stated questioningly. (STATED!)
Non-existent camera zoom x50 on Navid’s hand.
Irene shouted, “Is that the one chapstick TO RULE THEM ALL?”
Navid stated, “No, it’s just Queer’s chapstick, he’ll die without it.”
Princess Christa shouted, “Throw it away! LIKE NOW! That’s like… GROSS!”
The scene darkened with the mood as the walls oozed green slime (from Spongebob, yes) and the pungent stench of mildew emanated from the wet basement walls (from Dungeons and Dragons by Dr. Demento) and the author started to write poetically and like a serious author, and the other authors are seriously considering kicking her off the bench of authors.
“Ring… ring… ring ring ring RING. Banana phone!” Ardith exclaimed.
“You ruined it! I was about to tell the horrible epic of Mr. Queer! …Well, have you ever wondered WHY Mr. Queer is ALWAYS wearing and carrying his chapstick? Well, he created it and as he did, thus started to transform into the queer he is known to us today—”
Just them Alec grabbed the chapstick. “I SHALL HAVE THE ULTIMATE POWER!” He applied it to his lips.
Princess Christa stated in disgust, “That’s disgusting. It’s like making out with Mr. Queer the queer.”
Navid followed, “Yeah, that is pretty sick, plus Irene never stated that it gave power. Just make you queer.”
Alec, realizing the idiot he had been, said, “Oh…” and began to transform.
“You fool! What have you done?” Irene shouted.
Out of the darkest shadows began to crawl out one of the most foulest (that’s redundant) creatures… MIKEM! (Imagine a cross between Golum and Michael Jackson.) (And I don’t think that’s how you spell GOLLUM you dillhole.)
“EH HE HE HE!” Jumping from wall to wall, his white-gloved hand attempted to reach out for the chapstick in Alec’s queer transforming hand.
“And then, we’ll take over the world!” said Irene randomly.
“Of chapstick?” asked Navid.
“OF CHAPSTICK!” …Random random random.
“Run away!” screamed Nalcolm, quoting Monty Python’s Quest for the Holy Grail movie, which is the most brilliant thing ever created ever.
“The Great Master Baiter has spoken!” cried Princess Christa. “Do his bidding!”
Everyone ran away. Princess Christa suggested that they stop by at the nearest Radio Tavern (haha tavern) to pick up a new CAMERA. CAMERA was capitalized because I know a lot of you don’t like having to follow the whole “camera move” thing and it is bugging you and you don’t like the whole sitting-around-and-not-having-a-plot thing. Well guess what. TOO BAD!
“I like this. Fun fun fun,” laughed Navid.
“NUFF O THE CAMERA!” shouted Annette. “JEEZ!” She then went off to pray because she’d used the Christ’s name in vain, or something. I don’t follow religion, really, you know. We should all speak Yiddish.
NATURE OF INJURY
Bite (animal or human)
Break or Fracture
Burn (hot, cold, chemical)
Contusion or Bruise
Cut or Abrasion
Infection or Inflammation
Jammed or Crushed
Sprain or Strain
Swelling or Bump
Sorry. Those are Annie’s health class words that she has to define. It got confused with the story manuscript on the bus ride home when she came with me to see Wallace and Gromit. It’s a good movie really just ask Annie. Ask Annie. Hehe. That sounds like a bad advice column. Haha manuscript. It’s a big word. Deal with it.
“In the name of love/what more in the name of love/in the name of love/what more in the name of love…” Princess Christa sang.
“Love sucks,” muttered Carolyn. “Zephan’s a fruitcup.”
Princess Christa scowled. “That song is NOT about love between two people. It’s about the love of mankind, deusch.”
“DON’T USE MY WORD YOU SON OF A… QUEEN!” shouted Navid. “DEUSH IS MY WORD IS THAT EVEN HOW YOU SPELL IT?”
“I dunno,” Princess Christa mumbled.
“Whaa?” said Navid.
“I dunno,” Princess Christa repeated.
“Stop mumbling!” cried Navid in frustration.
“Do I talk like a surfer?” asked Princess Christa.
“Well, your highness…”
“I don’t know how to say this, but…”
“YES YOU TALK LIKE A SURFER!” said Annie.
“No,” said Red. “You talk like a Princess Christa.”
“Thank you, Red,” said Princess Christa. “In honor of your kindness towards your leader, you don’t have to pay taxes this year.”
“Pfft,” Princess Christa pffted. “Yeah right. You pay taxes every year, so that I can throw the kickass parties that you get invited to.”
Red thought for a moment. “So I pay taxes…” she worked out, “…as a sort of admission to your kickass parties?”
“Yep. Righteous system, eh?”
“They say ‘eh’ in Harry Potter,” said Ardith. “Hehe Harry Potter.” ¨
“Hey‚ guys‚” said Carolyn‚ “I think I‘ve decided to become bi. What do you think?”
Cease all camera movement.
Annette in her Catholicity winced.
“I think I’m going to become bi – bi – I think – bi—“
“Oh my gosh she’s a flippin broken record robot!” cried Navid. “I mean, she’s cursed!” (Considering that robots hadn’t even been invented yet and records hadn’t been invented then – but that would have been jammin.) (Once again, robots haven’t been fully developed – haha developed sounds funny if you say it funny, you know with syllables. SMIIIIITE!!!)
“Crap this really sucks! I mean, who cursed her so discreetly cursing that even I could not sense that she was being cursed?” cursed Irene.
“There’s too much cursing in this story,” said Annette.
“This chapstick is absolutely fabulous!” exclaimed Alec. “It’s just so scrumptious!” he extended. (Because it was an extension. Wow that sounds perved f you have a sick mind.)
“RUN AWAY!” Princess Christa screamed.
“Mr. Queer must have cursed Carolyn and given the chapstick to Alec,” said the elf- and chipmunk-resembling smart one. “He’s creating a… QUEER ARMY!”
Then everyone ran around in squares because circles are way too overused. Then Annette started marching marching band things.
“Hey, MARCHING BAND MOSH PIT!!! Hey guys! There’s still some of me left / lesbo – I’m going to be bi!” said the cursed Carolyn. “Ahh! Save me…” Then she ran off in the general direction of the forest where Devin and Mr. Queer were often seen washing their hands together. Oh yeah, and Alec went, too, still proclaiming the scrumptiousness of the chapstick. Ew.
Annette said, “Wow. I want pi.”
“You spelled that wrong,” said Ardith.
Hey,” realized Princess Christa. “Ardith isn’t even a real name.”
“Yes it is,” said Red. “It’s listed on Babynames.com.”
Silence. Then, “Why were you on Babynames.com, Red?”
Red looked around. “They have a lot of good names there. IT’S FOR MY WRITING!” Silence. “Hey look boobs!”
At that moment Jake walked up to Annette, who said, “Hey, it’s Jake, my only pi luvin companion. sup?”
Jake responded, “nm. u?”
Princess Christa cried, “Hey were talkin in im lingo!”
“crp this sux,” said Navid.
“w/e,” said Ardith.
Navid insisted, “no it duz.”
“y?” asked Ardith.
“cuz i said so dh.”
“lol. dh,” laughed Princess Christa. “so wuts up w/ the im lingo?”
Annette cried suddenly, “i kno y!”
Jake asked, “wut is it?”
Annette said, “The author currently has a 102.3 fever, so she isn’t thinking straight.”
Princess Christa said, “Hey author, take some Advil, man.”
It was IB Profen. I mean, and then they stopped talking for a while. Considering if this next part of the story sucks, the current author can blame it on the meds. So they all went into the forest. It turns out that Mr. Queer was he commander in chief of the Queer Army, Michael Jackson was the general, and Devin was the colonel. Other participants in the Army included: Ronwyn, Crabigail Westman, Whitney Swords, and ushr. The only way the Queer Army would surrender was if the straight/cool bi people army could prove that they were better kissers.
Navid said, “Okay, Annette, I’m going to go get Bill.” (Who’s Bill?)
Annette grabbed his shirt collar and held the little elf dangling in the air. She would have slugged him in the face, too, but she knew that he was the guy to win the war. Then Nicolette (which sounds like a quitting gum) popped out of nowhere and said, “Ooh, there’s a love connection.” At that moment Princess Christa played a game of whack-a-person-whose-name-sounds-like-a-nicotine-supplement with Nicolette. Anyway, Princess Christa through (THREW, stupid) up her hands in the air and said, “I’M NOT FLIPPING PRUDE!”
Let’s mock the log-flogging knight Zephan – who is now dead. Haha. (Except that he’s not. :Groan: the current author needs to get caught up with the story and work on her grammar.)
Anyway, the jolly band of companions (jolly reminds me of lollipops) went back to the HippieHollow, which had been t.p.’d by Kizzy and Kori (who was undoubtedly flipping her hair at the moment). Princess Christa was like, “Whoa, man, how original.”
Navid looked up at her and was like, “Really, because we did the same thing to her house and-“ He was cut off by Ardith whispering sarcasm in his ear. No, she was whispering the word, stupid person. Then Princess Christa rolled her eyes in another display of sarcasm. Then she realized that her groovy house needed to be cleaned up. “BUBNA!”
The short maid came running out with a butcher knife. “Where’s that Zephan kid?” she screeched.
“He died,” said Annette. “Ole, ole.” (Except that he didn’t.)
“Oh,” said Bubna. “In that case, you called?” She had a satisfied look on her face. What does that look like? Oh well, she was satisfied, and she has a face.
“I need you to like, clean up the toilet paper, and then wind it into rolls, as to not waste trees,” said the environmentally caring aboutness princess.
“I shall enslave you all,” was Bubna’s response as she went to find more cylindrically shaped cardboard.
Just then, the commonly seen sleek figure was seen running through the woods.
“Jake, there is such a thing as walking, you know,” said Princess Christa.
Then Annette poked him. With no reaction, she then poked Navid. Then Ardith joined her and they started poking every living thing around them. The Jake lost his temper. It was funny. They were satisfied and stopped. Okay, going back to the t.p.ing of the HippieHollow. They decided to peaceably confront Kizzy. Ha.
“Okay,” said Navid. “We are going to peaceably confront an evil sorceress. Isn’t there something wrong with that? Something started sounding weird at the peaceably confront evil part.”
“Yeah, besides, Mory and Red will want to come. Besides, Red is addicted to your fake electric gum of shockingness which is now broken. Besides, look at me using the word ‘besides’ again. Even though it hurts like hell,” commented Annette.
“Whoa. Annette said hell!!!” yelled Princess Christa.
Everybody’s mouths dropped agape. The author felt compelled to use this word, because she liked how it sounded when a previous author used it… previously. Then Annette yelled, “OKAY GET OVER IT! Some things just slip! Besides, you freakin hippies use it all of the time,” she observed.
“Nice observation,” observed Navid. Let’s not get into that again.
“Okay,” said Ardith. “That horse is dead.”
“Hey, man, no killing of the animals,” said Princess Christa.
“Fine. I can be a dead zucchini.”
“Why a zucchini? Because I hate zucchini dillhole.”
Never has the typing author used the word ‘zucchini’ so many times in one little segment. Ever.
“I like zucchini,” said Jake, the perfect little kid he is.
“Brownnoser cough cough,” said Ardith inconspicuously.
Anyway, the point of all this is that all of the people went to converse with Kizzy about the vandalism of the HippieHollow. They came upon (haha came upon, weird) the most evilly place on the planet, Prep Palace. It is truly an evil place, for any hippie who ventures into alone will surely become ensnared in tight-shirted, short-skirted, boyfriend-adoring aura. Carolyn had had a very close call, only to be saved by Princess Christa. She still suffered some side affects, though, like tight, short pants and gangsta shoes. Annette especially hated this place, for it was where her sister Whoren, a duchess, dwelled.
Suddenly all of everyone stopped, because Kori was approaching them. And flipping her hair. Everyone cursed under their breath. Except Annette. She doesn’t curse. She said, “Curses,” over and over again. Then she shut up because Princess Christa told her to.
But moving on…
“Hey let’s have a fiestar!” Zephan said.
“Hey you said that wrong!” Ardith replied with the same amount of enthusiasm.
“He’s Canadian, it’s okay,” Princess Christa replied with the same amount of enthusiasm.
“I guess that’s how a stupid Canadian with no life, no friends, no money, three kids, no girlfriend, and an ex-girlfriend from AustraliER says ‘Let’s go have a fiesta!’”
“Whoa,” said Pricess Christa. (‘Princess’ has an N in it, stupid previous author.) “That was like, eight burns in one sentence.”
“Oh my god,” Ardith said sacredly… ness… like, “an OCTOBURN!”
“Gasp!” the group gasped.
“I need to… go away,” Zephan said like he was hiding something.
“Flog-log,” someone said quietly.
The current author would like to note something. On the side of the desk he is sitting at in Science there is a lot of profanity. There is a big FUCK YOU. There is also a FUCK YOU TO… E? Like someone tried to write ‘too’ but is retarded. Then there is ‘whoever wrote this is a bastard.’ Stupid hypocrite. Then there are many crude drawing of penises and whatnot… OOH CANDY! Hold on…… yum I love candy. Okay back to the story… candy!
Zephan came back all sweaty and tired. Carolyn was eyeing up Red (bi). Princess Christa was contemplating whether to hit Navid or Ardith. Navid was looking up ‘platonic’ in the dictionary. And everyone was in a high circle.
The author would like to note that he just noticed that on the side of his desk someone wrote ‘I heart Orah.’ Like that. Oh, right, they heart her so much they can’t even spell her damn name. OPRAH.
All of a sudden the group found themselves (what a weird bunch of words) in a ridiculously large room with a high ceiling and a bunch if pews and a desk in front.
“What the hell?” Princess Christa cried. “This is a court room!”
And indeed it was. They had been poofed as such: Arual was in the judge’s stand, whatever it’s called. Princess Christa and Zephan were poofed into the defendant’s table thingy, and everyone into the jury place thingy. Princess Christa looked to her right and noticed Kizzy and Kori sitting in the prosecutor’s place apparatus. Navid was the bailiff.
“Princess Christa of Xafriaf,” Arual boomed. “You are getting into troubleness from Her Dark Sorceress Kizzy for toilet-papering her manor!”
“What the hell?” said Princess Christa again.
“Hey, now,” said Navid the bailiff (that almost rhymes). “You’ll keep a civil tongue, now, y’hear?”
“You’re talking like Scottish or something,” said Princess Christa. “And why is HE here?” She pointed to Zephan.
“Well, your highness,” said Arual the judge. “Seeing as how your parents (who are non-existent, I think) have so much money that they ran out of numbers to count it with so they had to start over at zero, you are virtually broke.”
The crowd gasped.
“So…” Arual continued. “We have provided a lawyer for you: Zephan the knight!”
Silence. Then, “I’m screwed.”
Arual sighed. “Yeah, probably.” Then she added with a queer pelvic thrust, “Remember to put some of my personality in there.”
Three hours later witnesses were still being called to the stand. There were a hell of a lot of people there.
“Okay, I’m kinda bored,” Arual said in her pleasantly airy voice. “My verdict is that Kizzy is a bitch and, your Highness, you’re just the kind of person who can t.p. someone’s house and get away with it because of your CHARMING personality.”
Ardith asked, “What’s the sentence for being a bitch?”
Arual answered, “All bitches must be handcuffed to overweight opera singers. Go!”
“But I don’t like opera!” Kizzy protested.
“Overruled!” Arual slammed her mallet-o-death down on the mallet-o-death-slammy-thingy. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the mallet-o-death. “You know I’m mostly non-violent.”
Then an overweight opera singer was brought into the room and everyone (save for Kori, Kizzy, Rochelle and Stefanny) laughed as Kizzy was handcuffed to her at the wrists (as opposed to at the knees?).
“Court dismissed! Bring in the dancing lobsters!”
Just then some dancing lobsters entered the courtroom and began… er… dancing. And then the old guy from the SIX FLAGS commercial came out and started dancing, too, with that jammin music of his.
Then Timantha came out and hit him on the head with a slab-o-beef.
“Hhh!” Princess Christa gasped. “I have THE most brilliant idea ever IN THE WORLD!”
“What?” asked Navid.
“We should have,” Princess Christa built up dramatically, “A SUPER CIRCLE!”
A few minutes later:
“This is the most brilliant idea ever IN THE WORLD, Princess Christa!” exclaimed Leanne enthusiastically.
“You bet your ass it is,” said Princess Christa.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” said Carolyn.
“Stop FUCKING saying FUCK,” cried Zephan.
“Everyone,” Mr. Queer began, “I want you to meet my new lover, Mr. Slave. Say hi to everyone, Mr. Slave!”
“Hi, everyone,” said Mr. Slave. “I dumped Mr. Garrison and got together with Mr. Queer here!”
“Ah!” cried Annette. “Sacrilegious! Queerness! Blasphemous!”
“Hey,” said Michella. “What the hells’ wrong with being bi, you stupid Aussie?”
“Don’t call her an Aussie, you… Michella!” said Erielle.
“So, what, is every character going to have just one line of dialogue until everyone’s spoken for the entire Super Circle?” asked Gessi.
“Yup,” said Anaira.
“My dad was just killed,” said Tarah the daughter of the Pope of Xafriaf. “Hey, like in Angels and Demons!”
“Dan Brown, man,” said Prett (who previously died… previously). “Don’t get much better than Dan Brown.”
“Dan Brown is an excellent author,” said Davido.
“Who the hell are you?” asked Mory. “Screw Bush…”
“That’s Davido,” said Red. “Davido Lovehornian. He’s sexyriffic.”
“I’ll bet Mory really appreciates that comment,” said Matt McConnell Matt McConnell.
“Thriller, thriller,” sang Mikem. “…My precious! Precious!”
“Er,” said Leia. “Okay…”
“I hate high circles,” said Kizzy huffily. “Especially Super ones. And why is Super capitalized, anyway?”
“I’m sorry, your highness,” Kori began. Then she noticed her hands, which were gesturing towards Kizzy. “I have the biggest hands in the world!”
“Hehe,” said Rochelle.
“What the hell this isn’t Korea!” cried Tracy the President of the Korean Republic in dismay and despair.
“Prrr,” growled Cory. “These chairs are really uncomfortable. For a wolf. You know.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Summer. Then she paused for a moment to reconsider it. “No, actually, I don’t.”
“Hey,” realized Timmy to Summer. “It just occurred to me that we aren’t going out any more.”
“How are your ovaries?” Ardith asked the area vaguely left of her.
“Good,” said Arual. “Wait…” She hesitated for a moment, scrunching up her face in concentration. “Yeah, good.”
“Everyone!” said Irene. “Everyone! Just – stop going to college!”
“Twitter, twitter,” Sharon twittered.
Stefanny looked really confused. “Wait. Am I on the good side or the bad side?”
“Ooh la me gwapo,” cooed Francesca.
“La yi nono,” said Daemon.
“I shall kill you all,” seethed Demonica.
“Good girl,” Bubna told Demonica. “Good girl.”
“Hey look,” said Timantha. “I’m Super Timantha!” She put her hands out in front of her. “Woo!”
“G’day,” said Mrs. Carolyn’s mom. “G’day, mate. G’day.”
“Hey, you’re a Gebronie!” said Colonel Will.
Just then Devin dropped out of the sky and landed in front of the camera. He then got up and ran into the woods.
“Yer mom,” said Alec.
Nalcolm looked to his left, and then to his right. “I just got back from Master Baiting Meditating. Anyone got some hand sanitizer or something?” He shrugged. “Never mind.”
Navid’s chipmunk mommy said eerily, “I’m back from the dead, the dead – oh, holy crap!” as her head fell off.
“Hey, look!” said George Dub-yah Bush. “It’s nucyalur! NUCYALUR!”
“Jake!” called Karis. “Are we still dating?”
“No…” said Jake. “…Yes…SHUT UP!”
“Hey, everyone,” said Stephie. “Look at my sexyriffic legs!” She pulled up her pant leg and displayed her pale calf to the circle.
“Er, put that away, please,” said Shelly shyly.
“Puppy dog face!” cried Bella randomly. Then she screwed her face up into a puppy dog pout.
“We bad,” said Ms. Salila. “High, good, high bad. That contradeectoree. We still bad.”
“Yeah, Ms. Salila, we bad,” said Dustin.
“I am cook,” said Corgan. “Hear me roar.”
“Whoa,” said an author. “This is a freakin lot of characters. Let me count them…” A few minutes later he confirmed: “Fifty-three. Including me. Fifty-two without me. Fifty-five if you include all of the other authors. Yeah.”
“I,” said the current author. “am not a farmer.”
“Don’t eat my Latin cheese!” cried another author.
“College… college… yer mom…” muttered yet another author. (Ha yet.)
The next author was drawing puppets on her foot. She looked up into the circle, held her foot up, and said in a rather high-pitched voice, “Look at me! I’m a foot!”
“Er.” The camera was back facing Princess Christa again. “I’m all out of funny things to say. Authors?”
“SHUT UP NEVER MIND!” yelled Princess Christa.
Ardith said in a serious voice, “James Allen once said, ‘We are what we think about.’”
Princess Christa looked around and frowned (hey that rhymed). “Well, all men can’t be sex, food and video games.”
“And all of the rest of us can’t be weed, chocolate and rock ‘n’ roll,” said Navid.
“Ha,” Arual laughed. “Peace, pot, tequila shot/Jesus loves you, stoned or not/sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll/speed, weed, birth control/life sucks and then you die/ so fuck this shit and let’s get high.”
“Right on,” said Princess Christa. Then she continued: “It is time… to go outside!”
“Yeah!” It switched to normal camera mode and everyone ran out of the basement of the HippieHollow.
“Where are we going?” asked Annette.
Princess Christa stopped short. “Er, I dunno…”
At that moment the clouds parted and a head appeared in the sky. The head spoke: “I am NOT God. I am John Lennon.”
Silence. Then, “ALL HAIL JOHN LENNON.” Everyone bowed. (By ‘everyone’ I mean simply everyone present.)
John Lennon sighed, “Oh, stop groveling, if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s groveling.”
Princess Christa said quickly, “Sorry, my lord.”
“Oh, don’t apologize!” John Lennon snapped. “Whenever I try to talk to someone, it’s sorry this and forgive me that and I’m not worthy. Well, I’ve had enough of it!”
Everyone averted their eyes.
“What are you doing now?” demanded John Lennon.
“We’re averting our eyes, o Lord,” said Princess Christa.
“Don’t avert your eyes!”
“Sorry, o Lord-“
“OH FORGET IT!” John Lennon inhaled and then exhaled (AKA breathed) deeply. “Just go on a quest for the Holy Scepter of Peacination. Now. Go. Or die.” Then he disappeared into the sky.
Silence. Then, “Okay, cool.”
So the kinigits got onto their faux horses and galloped into the sunset with Patsy and some coconuts that had been delivered by the non-migratory African swallow.
Several scenes later:
“WE ARE THE KNIGHTS WHO SAY NIH!”
Never mind about that, there are some copyright laws conflicting with the carrying on of this portion of the story, so let’s cut ahead to Halloween. Arual, Navid, Carolyn, Princess Christa, Lial the other stablehand and Zeke the Dude (we’re running out of clever medieval occupations here) were hanging out at the HippieHollow after trick-or-treating, and no one else is there, for reasons unknown to anyone but the Great Master Baiter.
At this point in the story, when the six are sitting around, Carolyn and Zephan are back together, Princess Christa and Navid are broken up, Lial is horny, Zeke is angry at Mory, no one knows why, and Arual is just peachy as always. FYI.
“Let’s play Spin the Bottle,” suggests Zeke.
So they played spin the bottle. Use your imagination to fill in the unpleasant details.
After the game was over, everyone (meaning all of Princess Christa’s friends) spontaneously congregated.
WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN!
Mory pulled a bow and arrow from his skirts – wait. No, sorry, from his shirt. Normally I make chicks use the bow and arrow, because apparently the sword is too violent or something, whatever it’s a sexist thing going on, so I’m used to saying “skirts” instead of something more… masculine.
So Mory pulled the arrow out and shot it into Red’s heart.
“Mory, what the hell!” cried Princess Christa, dashing over to Red. After the initial shock was over, mostly everyone else dashed over, too. Arual slowly and carefully pulled the arrow from Red’s heart, and waited.
… More silence.
And then Red coughed.
“Whoo hoo!” everyone cried, beginning to dance again.
“You’re going to trample her!” stated Annette smartly, and everyone stopped.
Suddenly Red rose into the air, magically, no longer wearing her tight black clothes but now draped in a willowy black goddess-dress. She threw her hands into the air powerfully, and slowly lowered one hand to point at Mory.
“Mory!” Red bellowed. “You are weird, and cowardly, and a bastard! And lacking proper man things! One day, Mory, I shall kill you once and for all! Forever! Until infinity! Ever!” Red then cackled rather evilly and vanished in a puff of smoke.
“Party!” yelled Mory, and everyone began fiestaing again.
ALL OF A SUDDEN!
The author ran out of metaphors.
The author began hyperventilating from lack of metaphors. She didn’t know what to do. “The entire story completely consists of metaphors!” she cried. “What ever will I do now?”
Everyone ignored her.
ALL OF A SUDDEN AGAIN!
Princess Christa, Ardith, Carolyn, Navid, Zephan, Mory and Irene were poofed into the basement of the HippieHollow. It was smoky, like someone had just gotten completely wasted and then left. Princess Christa sniffed a bit.
“Who the hell would blaze up in my basement but us?” she cried.
ALL OF A SUDDEN STILL! There was a crash from the back room. Bubna stumbled forth and fell down at Princess Christa’s feet.
“I am sotally tober,” she said.
Bubna’s eyes were red and she couldn’t seem to stand up at all on her own.
“Yeah, okay, you seem sober enough,” said Ardith.
“I’m hungry,” said Bubna.
Irene then proceeded to poof Bubna to the kitchens.
“So what do we do now?” asked Zephan.
“NOTHING, YOU STUPID CANADIAN!” said Navid. Everyone looked at him. “Sorry, reflex. My bad. Can’t blame me, it’s true.”
Just then Stephie came down the stairs with a beer can in her hand. “Your Highness?” Stephie said to Princess Christa. “This just came for you.” Stephie handed the can to Princess Christa and the retreated away from the Bubna-smoke. Princess Christa held the can up to the light. “It’s full,” she concluded.
“You had to hold it up to the light to tell that it was full?” asked Ardith.
“Shut up,” said Princess Christa. “The point is, it’s full.”
Everyone cheered. Princess Christa then went on to open the can and begin to chug the whole thing.
“Princess?” said Carolyn, watching Princess Christa drain the can. “Don’t you wonder where that came from?”
Princess Christa set down the empty can and burped. “Nope. I’m good.”
After a moment Princess Christa’s cheeks grew rosy. A faint smile tugged unnaturally at her lips and her eyes glazed over.
“What’s wrong, Princess Christa?” asked Zephan, taking a step forward.
Princess Christa slowly looked Zephan up and down, taking him in all at once. Suddenly she stood up and threw her arms around Zephan’s neck. Zephan took a step backwards, letting Princess Christa stumble a bit onto the couch. Sitting, the princess looked up at Zephan.
“Zephan, o knight of Canada,” Princess Christa began, “Oceans are blinded by the radiant blue of your eyes. The demon triplets are nothing without you. Lance Armstrong bows to your mad biking skills. Zephan, I can’t stop thinking about you!”
Princess Christa took a deep breath. Zephan hesitated, and then ran out of the door.
After a moment Princess Christa blinked in confusion. “Wait. Where is my love?” she asked, sounding a lot like Carolyn the first time we met her.
“Your love?” Ardith repeated.
“Yes, my love, my knight, my dear Canadian. Where has he gone?”
“Exactly how much alcohol was in that beer?” asked Mory.
Irene leaned over to inspect the beer can. “No more than the legal limit,” she said.
“Well,” reasoned Navid, “it was Princess Christa who set the legal limit for Xafriaf, which means that it’s a lot.”
“Fifty percent,” read Irene.
“But Princess Christa is completely immune to the affects of alcohol by now, due to numerous hangovers and being big-boned, which gave her a high tolerance level,” said Carolyn.
“So what’s wrong?” asked Mory.
Irene stuck out her tongue and swallowed drops of the leftover beer. All of a sudden she looked up at Mory. “Hey, you sexy Mexican.”
“What the hell,” said Mory dumbly.
After a moment Irene shook her head and looked around wildly.
“What the hell was that?” asked Navid.
“I’m terrified,” said Mory.
Irene coughed a bit. “Did I just come on to Mory?”
“More like threw yourself at him,” said Ardith.
“I think that this beer’s been spiked with a love potion,” said Irene professionally. “I only had a sip. I’m over it – sorry, Mory.”
“Oh, no, it’s cool,” said Mory as relief consumed every aspect of his being.
“But Princess Christa chugged the whole thing,” continued Irene. “She got the full blow.”
“Full blow of doom,” Ardith said.
“Well, you’re the magic one!” said Navid to Irene. “Fix her!”
Princess Christa was now giggling absently on the couch. “I need to find him… Where is he? …My love…My Canadian!”
“My magic isn’t anywhere near powerful enough to fix that!” cried Irene. “She’s in love with a Canadian!” Irene thought for a moment, and then sighed as though she were making a grim decision. “We’re going to have to go see… Heatha!”
“Heatha?” everyone gasped.
“The griffin whisperer?” asked Ardith.
“She’s the only one who can do it,” said Irene. “She’s the only one powerful enough.”
Navid took a deep breath. “We’re going to have to, then, won’t we?”
“No!” cried Ardith. “She’s too incredible! We can’t look upon her face… we aren’t even worthy of speaking her name!”
“What the hell?” said Mory. Everyone looked at him. “She’s not like God or anything. She freaking whispers to griffins.”
Carolyn took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “A few of us should take the princess to Heatha, and a few of us should stay here and keep watch over the HippieHollow in case anything happens, since Bubna’s toasted.”
“Bubna’s toasted?” asked Ardith.
“I’ll take her,” offered Navid.
“I’ll come with you,” said Ardith.
“And I’m the only person who knows the whereabouts of Heatha, the griffin whisperer,” said Irene. “I will therefore accompany you.”
“Geeze,” said Mory. “You could’ve just said, ‘I know where she lives so I’ll come with you.’”
“Quiet, nymph,” said Irene.
Mory said, “I’ll go too, since I’m bored.”
Mory and Navid tried to force Princess Christa off of the couch, but she wouldn’t move.
“Where is my Canadian?” she asked in an airy voice.
“Uh,” said Mory. “He’s outside. Let’s go find him!”
Princess Christa stood up energetically. “Okay!”
Navid, Mory, Irene and Ardith managed to get Princess Christa outside, up the stairs and through the Wall of Peace. Once they began walking through the woods, however, Princess Christa stopped again. “Where is Zephan?” she asked, this time more forcefully.
“He’s just over this hill, your Highness,” said Irene.
“He is?” Princess Christa began walking again, at a faster pace. “Let’s go find him!”
As Princess Christa reached the top of the hill, however, she didn’t find Zephan. She found, instead, a tall boy with floppy blond-brown hair.
“Hi,” she said to him. “Are you Zephan?”
“No,” said the boy. “I’m Bill.”
“Bill?” repeated Navid, Mory, Ardith and Irene.
“Yeah,” said Bill. “Bill Brockwood.”
“Want to come with us to find Heatha to fix Princess – I mean, to find Zephan the knight?” said Mory.
“Sure!” said Bill.
So the five – whoops six – went off down the path, assuring Princess Christa every few steps that Zephan was just a bit farther ahead. Princess Christa was sluggish, and it was difficult to get her to walk in a straight line, so Bill picked her up and carried her along the path, much to her dismay and complaints about the laws of physics being contradictory to what he was doing.
“Hey look!” exclaimed Navid after a while. “I see it!”
“See what?” asked Mory.
Navid squinted into the sunset. “Oh wait never mind that’s just a sky.”
Finally, at long last, eventually, after a long, long time (all of which basically mean the same thing), Heatha’s palace came into view. It was pink-tinted all over, even the grass and the sky around it, and there was a strong smell of marijuana wafting forth from within.
Bill Brockwood set Princess Christa down on the ground, and she shoved him away from her, muttering about an invasion of her personal space.
“Come on,” Navid said to Princess Christa. “I think Zephan’s in that palace there. Let’s go!”
Princess Christa took of running across the pink-tinted lawn and up to the door, where she pounded fiercely on the wood four times. Because the numbers of times it totally significant. Except that it’s totally not.
Irene, Ardith, Mory, Navid and Bill followed Princess Christa across the lawn, and as they approached, the door swung open of its own accord. Like an accordion.
The six teens stepped slowly inside, looking around for Heatha. Well, actually, Princess Christa was looking around for Zephan, and Ardith was looking around for something green or shiny, or both, but Navid and Mory and Irene and Bill looked around for Heatha.
“I am here,” came a lofty voice from up above.
The five looked up to see Heatha standing at the top of the staircase, her hair almost as frizzy as Carolyn’s but not really because Carolyn’s hair is frixxy like a mother. Whoa! I totally just spelled “frizzy” wrong!
Heatha walked slowly down the stairs, looking over the five kids in a very stoned manner. After a moment she had a couching fit, I mean a coughing fit, and then cleared her throat and leaned against the banister, trying to look chillaxed. Which wasn’t hard for her at all, considering the stoned-ness and all.
“What’s going on?” she asked lazily.
“Please, Heatha,” Irene said. “Our Princess Christa has been struck with a love potion way too strong for her own good!”
“She was struck with a potion?” Heatha asked.
“Well…” Irene said. “Not struck, per say. She drank it.”
“You said she was struck with it.”
“Well, she wasn’t,” Irene said.
“Bad word choice!” Irene exploded. “Please, just – can you help us?”
Heatha glared at Irene and folded her arms over her chest. “I can,” she said, and led the group up to her tower. Bill had to carry Princess Christa again, because she passed out what with being overcome by love or whatever.
Once in the tower, Bill laid Princess Christa down on a fluffy purple couch and everyone gathered around her while Heatha went into one of her closets to get a counter-potion. Or an antidote. Or a take-back-the-effects-of-the-potion potion.
Heatha leaned over Princess Christa and let a few drops drip into her highness’s mouth. Instantly Princess Christa was revived and had a coughing fit, like Heatha had, only without the pot influence.
“What?” Princess Christa said. “Hey… Where am I?”
“In Heatha’s palace,” Irene whispered.
Princess Christa gasped and sat up, looking wildly around her. “Oh my God… Heatha the griffin whisperer?”
“No,” Heatha said sarcastically. “Another one. Of course the griffin whisperer, how many Heathas do you know, wench?”
“Quite a few, actually,” Princess Christa said. “Why am I here?”
“Um…” Navid began. “You were sent a love potion-spiked beer and chugged it all and then fell in love with Zephan.”
And then Princess Christa vomited.
And then Princess Christa screamed.
And then Princess Christa began running around in circles.
And then she collapsed onto the floor, muttering to herself over and over, “Ew…ew…ew…”
Heatha walked over to Princess Christa and offered her a small bottle of purplish liquid. “Here,” she said to the princess. “This will help you get stronger as you recover from the effects of the love potion. Strong enough to kick Leia’s ass, even.”
“Bitchin!” Princess Christa cried, grabbing the bottle.
“Take a sip every hour, on the hour. Starting right this second go!”
In a bout of flusteration, Princess Christa took a huge sip from the bottle. She set it down on the floor and presently passed out.
“What happened?” Navid cried, rushing to Princess Christa’s side. He shook her softly. “Princess Christa? Princess Christa!”
Irene picked up the bottle sniffed it. “Another love potion,” she said, glaring at Heatha.
“Whoops!” Heatha said, dancing notcaringly.
“What!” Mory cried.
“We have to fix it again,” Navid said. “Hurry! Let’s get the antidote!”
All of a sudden, Princess Christa woke up and looked up into Navid’s face. “Oh, Navid,” she said adoringly. “I love you so much, you sexy chipmunk.”
Navid let out a deep breath, and then said, “Never mind, we can leave her like she is.”
Thanking Heatha profusely, the six kids left the palace and went back to trekkin’ in the woods.
And then Ardith, Irene and Bill were kidnapped.
Princess Christa and Navid hardly noticed, since they were all caught up with trying not to act awkward around one another, which actually only made things more awkward, and Mory was too busy being disgusted at his friends.
“Hey look,” Navid said suddenly, pointing up at a tree. The tree had the number “7” printed on it. “It would be funny if we put a question mark after the seven. It’d be like, ‘Seven?’”
“Who has a Sharpie?” Mory asked. Princess Christa handed him one, and he climbed up to the sign of the tree and wrote a question mark after the seven. He jumped back down and Navid burst out laughing.
“Seven?” he asked in mock-confusion.
“Look,” Mory said, pointing at another tree close by. This one had a fire alarm on it. There was plastic case over the fire alarm that read, “In case of a fire, lift case and pull down.” Mory skipped over to the alarm and wrote a question mark after the phrase.
“In case of a fire, lift case and pull down?”
Navid got up to inspect the fire alarm more closely. “That’s retarded,” he said. “The plastic case is nailed to the tree. What if there’s a fire? We’d all die!” He gave the alarm a pathetic little tug.
“No,” Princess Christa said. “You just have to pull hard enough.”
Princess Christa leaned over and pulled up on the case. It came off. And then the fire alarm started ringing.
Mory, Navid and Princess Christa exchanged looks, and then hauled ass down the path and into the woods before some random woods-janitor person came along to get them in trouble.
Suddenly Mory’s father, Mr. Spaniard, pulled up in his minivan. Princess Christa, Mory and Navid leaped into the car. “¡Rapido!” Mory cried, meaning something along the lines of “Step on it!” Mr. Spaniard put the pedal to the metal, and the van bolted out of the woods and dropped Mory, Navid and Princess Christa on the front stoop of the HippieHollow.
There they lay, in a panting heap, until the three burst out laughing at the same time.
“Best idea ever,” Navid uttered.
Then they went back into the HippieHollow. Everyone was there. So Princess Christa pushed the anti-everyone button and everyone who wasn’t everyone important disappeared. So now the only people left were: Princess Christa, Navid, Arual, Mory, Carolyn, Irene, and Ardith. Then they all sat around in the party room, waiting for part of the everyone that they had just made disappear to reappear because they just realized that they needed them to have a good Homecoming-esque party.
The music started up, and suddenly half of the population of Xafriaf appeared in Princess Christa’s doorway. Loud ghetto music blared from the speakers, the anonymous non-ghetto deejay deejay-ing and pretending to be ghetto.
“Wanna dance?” Princess Christa asked Navid, as everyone around the fab five began to dance.
“No,” Navid said sullenly, and went off to sulk in a corner.
Carolyn and Princess Christa grinned at one another, and then each leapt on a side of Mory to sandwich him. Soon Arual joined in behind Carolyn, and it was very, very hot. Mory was a surprisingly good dancer.
Then a slow song came on, and Arual and Carolyn broke off together to slow dance. This left Princess Christa and Mory dancing awkwardly together, until Like LicLahon came up to them with Noelle and the two of them joined the dancing couple until the slow song was over and Carolyn and Arual came back to them, at which point Mrs. Noelle’s Mom appeared out of the sky, pointed a finger at Princess Christa, and said, “You’re that chick who said shit that one time. No hanging out with my daughter.” Mrs. Noelle’s Mom dragged both Noelle and Like LicLahon up into the oblivion of good Christianity, nice language and abstinence.
Whitney popped out of the sky and landed in Carolyn’s lap. “Hey, baby,” she said to the Australian, and then they began making out.
“Whoa,” said Princess Christa. “Whoa.”
“Whoa,” said Navid.
“Oh my God.”
“What the hell.”
“What do we do.”
“Okay you win,” said Princess Christa to Navid. Navid went off into the corner to do a little celebratory dance.
After a moment, Princess Christa and Navid, jealous of the fun that Carolyn and Whitney seemed to be having, started making out too. And it wasn’t good. Suddenly a weeping willow tree grew out of the ground over the couple and the kissing got a lot better.
One hell of a lot better.