GGray
New member
When the singing part of the rehearsal was over, Mr. Rawley glanced down at his clipboard and asked who had sold all their tickets. Brianna raised her hand with a smug smile in our direction.
“Great,” Mr. Rawley said. “Now, is anyone having trouble selling theirs?”
Did he actually think anyone was going to raise their hand? Seriously?
“Great!” he said after a few moments of silence. “Remember, all your tickets should be sold by the last rehearsal.”
Eileen Lee caught up with us as we started home. “Hey, Sally! Want to sell the rest of our tickets together?”
“Sure,” Sally said.
We realized that we’d never asked Sally how she was selling hers, so Johnny did.
“I only have two left,” Sally said. “I went that retirement apartment building a couple blocks away. Most people said I reminded them of their grandkids. It was pretty easy.”
How come Sally thought of that and we didn’t?
“I have a great place to try,” Eileen said. “My aunt is pretty rich, and everybody in her building has tons of money.”
“You’ve got a rich relative?” Johnny was clearly envious. “Is she the good kind, or the Scrooge kind?”
“The good kind,” said Eileen. “She’s my guardian. But she already bought a ticket. It’s the other people we have to worry about.”
She looked us over critically, then pointed to Teddy. “He looks like the best candidate.”
“Why is it always me?” Teddy whined.
“Make a pitiful face,” Eileen directed. She studied the result. “Hm...a little wider with the eyes. Great!”
Once we got to the building, we chose an apartment, then hid around a corner of the hall while Teddy rang the bell.
“What do you want?” asked the woman who answered the door.
Teddy froze. “Uh…”
“Tickets!” Johnny hissed.
The woman looked down the hall suspiciously. “Are you soliciting?”
Teddy had no idea what that meant. “Nope. Just selling tickets.”
“Are you trying to be smart?” the woman snapped. “Kids these days, I tell you!” She slammed the door.
Teddy rejoined us, looking defeated. “I’m not doing that again. Next time, it’s Johnny’s turn.”
We chose another apartment on a different floor, hoping the rude people were confined to the snappy woman’s general area. To our surprise, Johnny agreed to try next. “I have a plan.”
Seeing as how this was Johnny, after all, the rest of us were a little worried. Still, the tickets had to be sold, so we let him go and watched from around the corner of the hall.
Johnny rang the bell. When the door opened, his confident look changed to one of weariness. He held up one ticket. “Mister? Would you like to buy a ticket to the first annual performance of the Children’s Caroling Club?”
The guy who had answered the door looked indifferent. “Why would I want to go to something like that?”
Johnny frowned. “Please! I just have to sell this last one before I can go home.”
The man hesitated, then shrugged. “Fine.”
After the transaction was complete, a triumphant Johnny joined us. “It worked.”
Sally shook her head. “Wasn’t that a little…dishonest?”
“I agree,” Henry chimed in.
“Uh-uh!” Johnny protested. “That was the last ticket I had to sell, so it was perfectly legit. You guys have to sell the rest.”
Johnny’s logic seemed a little off, but we were all sick of being door-to-door salesmen, so we let it go. After an hour of ringing doorbells, we had sold the last of our tickets, including Eileen’s and Sally’s. We headed home, grateful that that ordeal was behind us.
We gathered in Pete’s apartment to help him finish his Xbox game wishlist.
“How about the sequel to AxeQuest?” Johnny suggested.
Pete shook his head. “Too weird.”
“Hey, I liked it,” Johnny protested.
“That’s because you’re a little weird yourself,” said Pete.
Johnny glared at him. “A little weird? I was under the impression that I was the epitome of weirdness! Are you saying I’m not weird enough? Have your minds been defibrified?”
"Um...what?" said Henry. “Defibrified is not a word.”
"It is in my alien language for my new story, Dark Galaxy," Johnny explained.
“You made up a new language?” asked Teddy.
“Yeah. See, I was figuring on keeping it a secret except in a particular manual guide. That way, when I write my stories I can use English for the first 200 pages to get 'em hooked, then write the pivotal action scenes in Galactese Code---they're forced to buy the manual, and I get more cash. Clever, huh?"
"AND dishonest," said Henry. "You're a grade-A sneak."
Johnny shrugged. "Well, nobody's perfect." He thought a bit, then added, "Well, nobody except Antares Zhu."
"Um...who's that?" said Tim.
"The hero of Dark Galaxy," said Johnny. "He's smart, handsome, so good of a pilot that everybody calls him "The Nightflyer", and good with all weaponry from the complex BZ-99 raygun to the simple stone-headed club."
Henry snorted. "Sounds like a Gary Stu to me."
Johnny considered this. "OK, I'll give him some flaws. Like have him rob banks on occasion. With his brains and daring,I bet he'd be great at it."
Henry rolled his eyes.
"What page are you on of your story?" Teddy asked.
Johnny counted them off mentally. "Thirty-one. That's only, like, an eighteenth done. It's going to be epic, so it has to be nice and thick. Not to mention all the pages of visual weapon and spacecraft design."
"What's that for?" Teddy wanted to know.
"The movie," replied Johnny. "As soon as the book comes out and gets famous, major producers and directors are going to be standing in line for the rights."
“Great,” Mr. Rawley said. “Now, is anyone having trouble selling theirs?”
Did he actually think anyone was going to raise their hand? Seriously?
“Great!” he said after a few moments of silence. “Remember, all your tickets should be sold by the last rehearsal.”
Eileen Lee caught up with us as we started home. “Hey, Sally! Want to sell the rest of our tickets together?”
“Sure,” Sally said.
We realized that we’d never asked Sally how she was selling hers, so Johnny did.
“I only have two left,” Sally said. “I went that retirement apartment building a couple blocks away. Most people said I reminded them of their grandkids. It was pretty easy.”
How come Sally thought of that and we didn’t?
“I have a great place to try,” Eileen said. “My aunt is pretty rich, and everybody in her building has tons of money.”
“You’ve got a rich relative?” Johnny was clearly envious. “Is she the good kind, or the Scrooge kind?”
“The good kind,” said Eileen. “She’s my guardian. But she already bought a ticket. It’s the other people we have to worry about.”
She looked us over critically, then pointed to Teddy. “He looks like the best candidate.”
“Why is it always me?” Teddy whined.
“Make a pitiful face,” Eileen directed. She studied the result. “Hm...a little wider with the eyes. Great!”
Once we got to the building, we chose an apartment, then hid around a corner of the hall while Teddy rang the bell.
“What do you want?” asked the woman who answered the door.
Teddy froze. “Uh…”
“Tickets!” Johnny hissed.
The woman looked down the hall suspiciously. “Are you soliciting?”
Teddy had no idea what that meant. “Nope. Just selling tickets.”
“Are you trying to be smart?” the woman snapped. “Kids these days, I tell you!” She slammed the door.
Teddy rejoined us, looking defeated. “I’m not doing that again. Next time, it’s Johnny’s turn.”
We chose another apartment on a different floor, hoping the rude people were confined to the snappy woman’s general area. To our surprise, Johnny agreed to try next. “I have a plan.”
Seeing as how this was Johnny, after all, the rest of us were a little worried. Still, the tickets had to be sold, so we let him go and watched from around the corner of the hall.
Johnny rang the bell. When the door opened, his confident look changed to one of weariness. He held up one ticket. “Mister? Would you like to buy a ticket to the first annual performance of the Children’s Caroling Club?”
The guy who had answered the door looked indifferent. “Why would I want to go to something like that?”
Johnny frowned. “Please! I just have to sell this last one before I can go home.”
The man hesitated, then shrugged. “Fine.”
After the transaction was complete, a triumphant Johnny joined us. “It worked.”
Sally shook her head. “Wasn’t that a little…dishonest?”
“I agree,” Henry chimed in.
“Uh-uh!” Johnny protested. “That was the last ticket I had to sell, so it was perfectly legit. You guys have to sell the rest.”
Johnny’s logic seemed a little off, but we were all sick of being door-to-door salesmen, so we let it go. After an hour of ringing doorbells, we had sold the last of our tickets, including Eileen’s and Sally’s. We headed home, grateful that that ordeal was behind us.
We gathered in Pete’s apartment to help him finish his Xbox game wishlist.
“How about the sequel to AxeQuest?” Johnny suggested.
Pete shook his head. “Too weird.”
“Hey, I liked it,” Johnny protested.
“That’s because you’re a little weird yourself,” said Pete.
Johnny glared at him. “A little weird? I was under the impression that I was the epitome of weirdness! Are you saying I’m not weird enough? Have your minds been defibrified?”
"Um...what?" said Henry. “Defibrified is not a word.”
"It is in my alien language for my new story, Dark Galaxy," Johnny explained.
“You made up a new language?” asked Teddy.
“Yeah. See, I was figuring on keeping it a secret except in a particular manual guide. That way, when I write my stories I can use English for the first 200 pages to get 'em hooked, then write the pivotal action scenes in Galactese Code---they're forced to buy the manual, and I get more cash. Clever, huh?"
"AND dishonest," said Henry. "You're a grade-A sneak."
Johnny shrugged. "Well, nobody's perfect." He thought a bit, then added, "Well, nobody except Antares Zhu."
"Um...who's that?" said Tim.
"The hero of Dark Galaxy," said Johnny. "He's smart, handsome, so good of a pilot that everybody calls him "The Nightflyer", and good with all weaponry from the complex BZ-99 raygun to the simple stone-headed club."
Henry snorted. "Sounds like a Gary Stu to me."
Johnny considered this. "OK, I'll give him some flaws. Like have him rob banks on occasion. With his brains and daring,I bet he'd be great at it."
Henry rolled his eyes.
"What page are you on of your story?" Teddy asked.
Johnny counted them off mentally. "Thirty-one. That's only, like, an eighteenth done. It's going to be epic, so it has to be nice and thick. Not to mention all the pages of visual weapon and spacecraft design."
"What's that for?" Teddy wanted to know.
"The movie," replied Johnny. "As soon as the book comes out and gets famous, major producers and directors are going to be standing in line for the rights."
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Clever.
Oh, my. xD His story sounds hilarious.
GGray
New member
Rory entered from the kitchen, waving a box. "Who wants some Difflestix?"
"What are those?" said Henry, looking suspicious.
"You don't want to share those Difflestix," said Johnny. "You want to go home and rethink your life."
"Relax, they're just crunchy snacks," said Rory. “Sour cream and onion. It's not going to kill anyone."
"It could kill a Glaug," said Johnny. "Onions are toxic to the Glaug."
"Are you a Glaug?"
"No, but it'd be sweet if I was." Johnny nibbled a Difflestix. When no one said anything, he suggested, "Don't you want to know what a Glaug is?"
"Not really," said Henry.
"You will when Dark Galaxy comes out and you're the only person on the planet who doesn't know about the Glaug."
"Keep dreaming," Pete said.
"Speaking of dreaming," said Henry, "I had a weird dream last night that some troll hacked our computer and made me lose both chess tournaments and lowered the scores on my math trivia profile."
"That sounded so nerdy I had to check to see if I spontaneously sprouted glasses," said Johnny.
"I can see you didn't spontaneously sprout the brain the empty space in your skull is so desperate for," Henry muttered.
"Yeah, well, the Glaug don't need brains," said Johnny. "They have an artificial hive mind."
"What is it with these Glaug aliens?" said Henry. "You're freakishly obsessed with them."
"Hello, I'm their creator. I need to be obsessed with them, otherwise nobody would ever learn Glaug culture."
"Are they kinda like orcs?" said Teddy, seeing the other Pals' warning looks too late.
"No! They're a super advanced species from the twin planets Irulal and Saleeth. They wear robes and have superhuman abilities and lifespans. Also, their brains were absorbed by the High Hivelord and now they serve him in his mad quest for dark power." He looked thoughtful. "Or his dark quest for mad power. I'm on the fence about that."
"So...kinda like brainwashed elves?"
"They're better than brainwashed elves. They can vivisect a man's skull with their fingernails."
"Gross!" said Teddy.
"And they're accomplished lyre players, too. But Antares chops them up left and right in combat, so he's roughly three times as awesome as them. He's the only one they fear."
"Um...that's stupid," said Henry. "I mean, I assume they keep their nails long and sharp for their cultural skull slicing. Wouldn't those nails get in the way of the strings? Anyway, why don't their nails break against the hardness of a human skull?"
Johnny hesitated. "They're made of diamondsteel. They're unbreakable."
"Are the hand bones they're attached to unbreakable, so they don't snap off?"
"Yeah."
"So how can this Antares Stu chop them up?"
"Man, you're getting too worked up about this," said Johnny. "That clinches it. This will be the most awesome franchise of all time. I mean, look at the in-depth discussion it just spawned!"
Henry did a head slam on the coffee table.
Johnny grinned. "Anyway, want to hear a Glaugish opera? I wrote it last week. It's like 98 pages long."
"NOOOOO!"
"Quoting Star Wars. I approve." Johnny started to leave to get his notebook, but stopped first. "Oh, yeah! I know how he chops them up...he has a goldsteel blade! Oh, snap!"
"Gold isn't harder than---"
"It's an alloid. Duh."
"You mean alloy?" Henry suggested.
"Sorta."
"What's the difference?"
"The 'oid' makes it sound cooler." Johnny finished off the last Difflestix.
"You know what? Forget it," said Henry.
"What are those?" said Henry, looking suspicious.
"You don't want to share those Difflestix," said Johnny. "You want to go home and rethink your life."
"Relax, they're just crunchy snacks," said Rory. “Sour cream and onion. It's not going to kill anyone."
"It could kill a Glaug," said Johnny. "Onions are toxic to the Glaug."
"Are you a Glaug?"
"No, but it'd be sweet if I was." Johnny nibbled a Difflestix. When no one said anything, he suggested, "Don't you want to know what a Glaug is?"
"Not really," said Henry.
"You will when Dark Galaxy comes out and you're the only person on the planet who doesn't know about the Glaug."
"Keep dreaming," Pete said.
"Speaking of dreaming," said Henry, "I had a weird dream last night that some troll hacked our computer and made me lose both chess tournaments and lowered the scores on my math trivia profile."
"That sounded so nerdy I had to check to see if I spontaneously sprouted glasses," said Johnny.
"I can see you didn't spontaneously sprout the brain the empty space in your skull is so desperate for," Henry muttered.
"Yeah, well, the Glaug don't need brains," said Johnny. "They have an artificial hive mind."
"What is it with these Glaug aliens?" said Henry. "You're freakishly obsessed with them."
"Hello, I'm their creator. I need to be obsessed with them, otherwise nobody would ever learn Glaug culture."
"Are they kinda like orcs?" said Teddy, seeing the other Pals' warning looks too late.
"No! They're a super advanced species from the twin planets Irulal and Saleeth. They wear robes and have superhuman abilities and lifespans. Also, their brains were absorbed by the High Hivelord and now they serve him in his mad quest for dark power." He looked thoughtful. "Or his dark quest for mad power. I'm on the fence about that."
"So...kinda like brainwashed elves?"
"They're better than brainwashed elves. They can vivisect a man's skull with their fingernails."
"Gross!" said Teddy.
"And they're accomplished lyre players, too. But Antares chops them up left and right in combat, so he's roughly three times as awesome as them. He's the only one they fear."
"Um...that's stupid," said Henry. "I mean, I assume they keep their nails long and sharp for their cultural skull slicing. Wouldn't those nails get in the way of the strings? Anyway, why don't their nails break against the hardness of a human skull?"
Johnny hesitated. "They're made of diamondsteel. They're unbreakable."
"Are the hand bones they're attached to unbreakable, so they don't snap off?"
"Yeah."
"So how can this Antares Stu chop them up?"
"Man, you're getting too worked up about this," said Johnny. "That clinches it. This will be the most awesome franchise of all time. I mean, look at the in-depth discussion it just spawned!"
Henry did a head slam on the coffee table.
Johnny grinned. "Anyway, want to hear a Glaugish opera? I wrote it last week. It's like 98 pages long."
"NOOOOO!"
"Quoting Star Wars. I approve." Johnny started to leave to get his notebook, but stopped first. "Oh, yeah! I know how he chops them up...he has a goldsteel blade! Oh, snap!"
"Gold isn't harder than---"
"It's an alloid. Duh."
"You mean alloy?" Henry suggested.
"Sorta."
"What's the difference?"
"The 'oid' makes it sound cooler." Johnny finished off the last Difflestix.
"You know what? Forget it," said Henry.
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Copperfox
Well-known member
Onions are toxic to the Glaug? I must be part Glaug, since I hate onions.
As for the patter about the made-up term "alloid": yes, it's easy to be drawn into that kind of word-alteration in the effort to create "the other-worldly feel." In the old days when I used to read Marvel Comics, they were always labelling science-fictional devices with terms that included a prefix ending in "O." Like destructo-beams and even an "explo-grenade!" I was waiting for them to depict boxers in the ring using "puncho-gloves."
As for the patter about the made-up term "alloid": yes, it's easy to be drawn into that kind of word-alteration in the effort to create "the other-worldly feel." In the old days when I used to read Marvel Comics, they were always labelling science-fictional devices with terms that included a prefix ending in "O." Like destructo-beams and even an "explo-grenade!" I was waiting for them to depict boxers in the ring using "puncho-gloves."
That's great. This whole scene was hilarious, but that's my favorite part.
GGray
New member
“So, are you submitting this Dark Galaxy thing to that writing contest?” Pete asked.
Johnny shook his head. “No. It exceeds the word limit. The story I’m working on for that is a sort of modern-day mystery-fantasy-science fiction mix. There's a lot of action.”
Rory, who had ducked out of the room a moment earlier, returned with another bag of Difflestix. “That sounds cool. Does your hero wield a battleaxe or something?”
“He has an AK-47, a Desert Eagle, two M1911A1's, and a sawed-off Baretta competition shotgun. I don't think he'd have room for the axe.”
Teddy looked impressed. “Whoa. What’s his name?”
Johnny grabbed a handful of Difflestix from Rory. “Scott Jake Jefferson Marcus Thunderbird Powers. He's the heir to a billionaire's fortune, but he doesn't know it until he gets a mysterious text message. He has an evil genius kid sister named Megwyn Olivia Duffy Powers. She's seven years old, but about fifty mentally. She's trying to take over the world with an army of radioactive robotized barbies.”
Pete raised his eyebrows. “Uh, that was a joke, right?”
“Nope. But the REAL villain turns out to be Professor Ernest Wargwater Rohparz.”
“What’s he?” asked Tim.
“A college graduate. Unlike most villains, he doesn't want to dominate the world. He wants to use his knowlegde of science and chemicals to destroy it. He even made a machine called the Titan Bang XXXI. When you flip its deadly switch, every living organism on earth crumbles into oblivion, except the one wearing the special Protector Suit. Professor Ernest Wargwater Rohparz plans to wear it and laugh with evil glee as he watches the world self-destruct.”
“Self-destruct? I thought he was destroying it,” said Henry.
“No, see, he planted the Titan Bang XXXI under Niagara Falls so eventually the water pressure would flip the switch. That way he wouldn't be directly answerable for the results. The rules of the writing contest said the story had to have some kind of message, and mine’s is: don't try to destroy the world, directly or indirectly. It's a strong message, don't you think? It's aimed specifically at world-destructionist-wanna-be's.”
“But what does your hero need all those guns for? Shouldn't he concentrate on deactivating the machine before it blows?” said Pete.
Johnny shrugged. “Well, we gotta have some action. His sister's evil army, led by Barbarian Barbie and Destroyer Ken, are trying to get rid of him.”
Pete wasn’t convinced. “Does it really take all those weapons to get rid of a bunch of pesky barbies?”
“You'd be surprised. Anyway, Megwyn eventually realizes that if her barbies kill Scott Jake, she'll perish along with the rest of the world. So she joins forces with her brother. Then
she accidentally clogs the machinery with a barbie slipper. This causes the delicate machine to explode. Instead of crumbling the world, though, the evil sorcerer who lives inside it…”
Henry interrupted. “Hold it, I thought this story was science fiction.”
“Basically. You just need suspension of disbelief. It has some fantasy elements. Anyway, this sorcerer decides to take revenge on the creator of the machine, so he tells the Titan Bang XXXI not to explode. Instead, it blasts all the characters to the faraway galaxy of Kizi-Kazool. There they take place in an epic battle fought with grenades and blasters and death rays. The top enemy robot's head gets sliced right down the middle and both halves are sucked, screaming, into outer space.”
“So, what happened to that Professor Rohparz character?” asked Rory.
“He dies of old age. That's offscreen, though, since it might frighten readers. Can't be TOO graphic, you know. During the battle, Scott Jake's ship is hit, and it blasts him into a black hole, where he finds an alternate reality. After he debates with the local crime lords, who are good in this story, he goes back to Kizi Kazool, Then there's a brief description of the epic battle.”
“Who wins?” asked Teddy.
“No one ever finds out. Scott Jake is blasted home into his own bed, and, surprisingly, life continues like normal from there on. His sister doesn't seem to recall anything since the day before it all started.”
“So, it was a dream?”
“No, just a bad case of amnesia.”
“What's the title of this story?” asked Tim.
Johnny grinned and said proudly, “Outer Battles Epic: Space Skis.”
Teddy was confused. “Why skis?”
“It's named after a subplot where the Emperor of Kizi Kazool's cousin teaches Scott Jake to ski. I figured since it got so little time in the story, it’s only fair that it be mentioned in the title. To balance things out, you know?”
Johnny shook his head. “No. It exceeds the word limit. The story I’m working on for that is a sort of modern-day mystery-fantasy-science fiction mix. There's a lot of action.”
Rory, who had ducked out of the room a moment earlier, returned with another bag of Difflestix. “That sounds cool. Does your hero wield a battleaxe or something?”
“He has an AK-47, a Desert Eagle, two M1911A1's, and a sawed-off Baretta competition shotgun. I don't think he'd have room for the axe.”
Teddy looked impressed. “Whoa. What’s his name?”
Johnny grabbed a handful of Difflestix from Rory. “Scott Jake Jefferson Marcus Thunderbird Powers. He's the heir to a billionaire's fortune, but he doesn't know it until he gets a mysterious text message. He has an evil genius kid sister named Megwyn Olivia Duffy Powers. She's seven years old, but about fifty mentally. She's trying to take over the world with an army of radioactive robotized barbies.”
Pete raised his eyebrows. “Uh, that was a joke, right?”
“Nope. But the REAL villain turns out to be Professor Ernest Wargwater Rohparz.”
“What’s he?” asked Tim.
“A college graduate. Unlike most villains, he doesn't want to dominate the world. He wants to use his knowlegde of science and chemicals to destroy it. He even made a machine called the Titan Bang XXXI. When you flip its deadly switch, every living organism on earth crumbles into oblivion, except the one wearing the special Protector Suit. Professor Ernest Wargwater Rohparz plans to wear it and laugh with evil glee as he watches the world self-destruct.”
“Self-destruct? I thought he was destroying it,” said Henry.
“No, see, he planted the Titan Bang XXXI under Niagara Falls so eventually the water pressure would flip the switch. That way he wouldn't be directly answerable for the results. The rules of the writing contest said the story had to have some kind of message, and mine’s is: don't try to destroy the world, directly or indirectly. It's a strong message, don't you think? It's aimed specifically at world-destructionist-wanna-be's.”
“But what does your hero need all those guns for? Shouldn't he concentrate on deactivating the machine before it blows?” said Pete.
Johnny shrugged. “Well, we gotta have some action. His sister's evil army, led by Barbarian Barbie and Destroyer Ken, are trying to get rid of him.”
Pete wasn’t convinced. “Does it really take all those weapons to get rid of a bunch of pesky barbies?”
“You'd be surprised. Anyway, Megwyn eventually realizes that if her barbies kill Scott Jake, she'll perish along with the rest of the world. So she joins forces with her brother. Then
she accidentally clogs the machinery with a barbie slipper. This causes the delicate machine to explode. Instead of crumbling the world, though, the evil sorcerer who lives inside it…”
Henry interrupted. “Hold it, I thought this story was science fiction.”
“Basically. You just need suspension of disbelief. It has some fantasy elements. Anyway, this sorcerer decides to take revenge on the creator of the machine, so he tells the Titan Bang XXXI not to explode. Instead, it blasts all the characters to the faraway galaxy of Kizi-Kazool. There they take place in an epic battle fought with grenades and blasters and death rays. The top enemy robot's head gets sliced right down the middle and both halves are sucked, screaming, into outer space.”
“So, what happened to that Professor Rohparz character?” asked Rory.
“He dies of old age. That's offscreen, though, since it might frighten readers. Can't be TOO graphic, you know. During the battle, Scott Jake's ship is hit, and it blasts him into a black hole, where he finds an alternate reality. After he debates with the local crime lords, who are good in this story, he goes back to Kizi Kazool, Then there's a brief description of the epic battle.”
“Who wins?” asked Teddy.
“No one ever finds out. Scott Jake is blasted home into his own bed, and, surprisingly, life continues like normal from there on. His sister doesn't seem to recall anything since the day before it all started.”
“So, it was a dream?”
“No, just a bad case of amnesia.”
“What's the title of this story?” asked Tim.
Johnny grinned and said proudly, “Outer Battles Epic: Space Skis.”
Teddy was confused. “Why skis?”
“It's named after a subplot where the Emperor of Kizi Kazool's cousin teaches Scott Jake to ski. I figured since it got so little time in the story, it’s only fair that it be mentioned in the title. To balance things out, you know?”
Oh, my goodness. This is just brilliant... You must have had a whole lot of fun plotting this out when you were first writing the story.
GGray
New member
“Oh..uh...okay,” said Tim. “I can't wait to see the results of the contest.”
Johnny nodded. “Yeah, me too. Want to hear an excerpt?” Without waiting for a reply, he recited from memory, “The transluscent droplet of moisture descended upward, hung poised in midair, as if petrified in jewelled perfection, for a fleeting shard of a moment before it continued its inevitable plunge into the turquoise depths, losing its spherical form as it dwindled, mingled and finally dissolved, its miniscule splash drowned deeply by the overpowering roaring of the cataract, forever rumbling its way towards the turbulent billows of mist below."
There was a brief silence, which was broken by Teddy. “Uh, could you explain what's going on there?”
“That's describing a drop of water at Niagara Falls. You know, when Rohparz plants the Titan Bang machine.”
Any further discussion concerning Outer Battles Epic: Space Skis was postponed by the ringing of the phone. It was Amy, telling Tim to come home to eat.
The rest of the rehearsals went by quickly, and before we knew it, there was only one day until the performance. Johnny was still trying to change Mr. Rawley’s mind about his solo, even though the rest of us had told him it was a lost cause. This time, when he was called up to sing, he raised his hand. “I can’t say I broke my bat on Jimmy’s head, either.”
“Why?” asked Mr. Rawley.
“I had a beta fish named Jimmy! He was two and a quarter inches long—do you realize what a baseball bat could do to a fish that size?
Mr. Rawley looked impatient. “Fine. Use Bobby.”
Johnny folded his arms. “Bobby was my other beta fish, and Jimmy killed him! He didn't even get a proper funeral. Mom just flushed his corpse down the toilet! Thanks for digging up that painful memory!”
Now Mr. Rawley looked like he wanted to do a head slam on the nearest table.
“See,” Johnny continued, “I wanted to do it the Jedi way and use a pyre, but Henry made an insensitive remark about fish fries.”
“You will use Billy, and that’s the last discussion we’re having on that topic,” Mr. Rawley said firmly. “Now, let’s hear you sing.”
Johnny nodded. “Yeah, me too. Want to hear an excerpt?” Without waiting for a reply, he recited from memory, “The transluscent droplet of moisture descended upward, hung poised in midair, as if petrified in jewelled perfection, for a fleeting shard of a moment before it continued its inevitable plunge into the turquoise depths, losing its spherical form as it dwindled, mingled and finally dissolved, its miniscule splash drowned deeply by the overpowering roaring of the cataract, forever rumbling its way towards the turbulent billows of mist below."
There was a brief silence, which was broken by Teddy. “Uh, could you explain what's going on there?”
“That's describing a drop of water at Niagara Falls. You know, when Rohparz plants the Titan Bang machine.”
Any further discussion concerning Outer Battles Epic: Space Skis was postponed by the ringing of the phone. It was Amy, telling Tim to come home to eat.
The rest of the rehearsals went by quickly, and before we knew it, there was only one day until the performance. Johnny was still trying to change Mr. Rawley’s mind about his solo, even though the rest of us had told him it was a lost cause. This time, when he was called up to sing, he raised his hand. “I can’t say I broke my bat on Jimmy’s head, either.”
“Why?” asked Mr. Rawley.
“I had a beta fish named Jimmy! He was two and a quarter inches long—do you realize what a baseball bat could do to a fish that size?
Mr. Rawley looked impatient. “Fine. Use Bobby.”
Johnny folded his arms. “Bobby was my other beta fish, and Jimmy killed him! He didn't even get a proper funeral. Mom just flushed his corpse down the toilet! Thanks for digging up that painful memory!”
Now Mr. Rawley looked like he wanted to do a head slam on the nearest table.
“See,” Johnny continued, “I wanted to do it the Jedi way and use a pyre, but Henry made an insensitive remark about fish fries.”
“You will use Billy, and that’s the last discussion we’re having on that topic,” Mr. Rawley said firmly. “Now, let’s hear you sing.”
Oh, my. xD What childhood trauma!