First Officer’s Log (Stardate Something)
Second-Command Jonathan E. McGillis.
(No, I’m not writing down what the ‘E’ stands for, in case one of the Spikers snoops.)
Life has been pretty boring since VidKid and Arch left for the land of succulent pineapples and active volcanos. I’ve been figuring on writing a book for a while, so I decided I might as well start now, while Life is Dull. I’m thinking about turning it into a screenplay next year, so it can win an Oscar and maybe a couple of Academy Awards.
Here’s something I wrote during science class last year. The only part of science class I ever enjoy is dissection. I’m looking forward to high school chemistry, though, so I can build something combustible.
The Tale of the Freewing Fighters (Not the Airplane Kind)
By Jonathan E. McGillis
Once upon a time (don’t they all start that way) there lived a wicked king. He lived in a castle (all respectable kings do) on top of a mountain. (That’s a precaution against invading enemies...they take weeks of mountain climbing and you spot them and shoot them one by one.) He ruled over the kingdom in the valley below. (Kings have to have kingdoms, you know.)
In this valley, there was no grass. It was all red dust. Red because that was the normal color of the dirt there, not because all the people who dropped dead working. There were no houses. The people, who were all either hardy men or strong boys, slept and lived on the ground. There was no snow. Did I mention that there were no ladies because I hate writing about females?
Anyway, there was one kid, a boy kid, named Johnny. That was short for Jonathon McGill. He was eleven years old, superhumanly strong, handsome but rugged, clever, and he didn’t want to be a slave. Actually, they weren’t slaves because they owned property. The king made sure they each had a black piece of paper. Clever, huh?
This Johnny kid figured he wanted to just skip out with his five Pals friends. He was an orphan kid, you see. But the only problem with that noble desire was that the Bad King had a magic pen—whatever he drew with it would become real. He had used his magic pen to draw (on paper) a thick wall made of iron and thirty thousand guards who didn’t need to eat or sleep. They just killed anybody near the wall and kind of grunted. One good thing I can credit them on is
they did their jobs, even if the jobs they had to do were a bit messy.
Anyway, besides these guards, he put on top of the wall, in case some lucky dude decided to slip over the top using the side of the mountain, thirty wild Beasts. You know, tigers, leopards, brain-affected bears. And if some REAL lucky dude managed to get past that, there were thirty fierce
thunderbirds hovering over the top. Tough luck, huh?
Anyhow, Johnny discovered some allies in the East Place. They were an army of guys called Hullabalites. They liked Johnny and agreed to work for him in return for the futuristic technology Johnny possesed as a result of building his own satellite and channeling in shows from Earth, like Star Trek. So these Hullabalites distracted the Guards while Johnny started to climb. Started is right...the Hullabalites were all butchered before you could say ‘Hi, Pal!’
Johnny had to run for it. Disgraceful, but practical. As I always say: ‘The Pal that lives and runs away lives to fight another day.’ He hunted around for some more help. Presto! He found them in the South Place—an army of reptilian creatures called Palatats. These Palatats managed to tackle the guards and get to the top of the palace. But either they forgot the beasts or they were otherwise occupied and too busy to think about them. Anyway, they were devoured by these wild beasts before you could say, ‘Mighty Taco!’ Not that you'd want to say "Mighty Taco' in that situtation.
At this Johnny was calm but desperate. He escaped, but he had to find another army to help. And he did, in the West Place. Things called Freewings. The Freewings looked like Thunderbirds only less disbenevolent. Anyway, they tore the guards to pieces. Then they flew over the wall. Johnny was riding on the back of the King of the Freewings. They tore up the beasts to mincemeat. Then, the Thunderbirds attacked! After a ferocious air-battle that involved a lot of tearing, the Freewings came out on top. They won, and they went into the palace. Johnny pointed to the Bad King. “Kill!” he ordered the Freewings. They did—or started to. The king ran off into a tunnel too small for them to fit in. Johnny followed him, sword drawn. A swordfight followed. Johnny managed to slice off the king’s head. Gruesome, but a fact. Afterwards they made Johnny the new king and he got lots of luxuries for him and his Pals. As for the magic pen, a Freewing thought it looked like food and ate it up, so that was the end of it. Which was kinda good, because nobody else could re-draw those thunderbirds and beasts and guards. Johnny got his own guards, a human kind.
THE END
Pretty good, if I do say so myself. But I have to think of a name for the king. I’m thinking something like Vishius the Evil, or Darkrule the Unjust.
Here are some quotes to spring on my Pals whenever opportunity allows.
“Is it secret? Is it safe?”
“This, my friend, is a pint.”
– (Hm, that one might be a little difficult to work into a conversation. But I’ll manage it.)
“Live long and prosper.”
And one I wish I could use, but unfortunately will probably never get a chance to:
“Ride to ruin, and the world’s ending!”
Then there’s those quotes which are everything a good quote should be...meaningful, forceful, INTERESTING...only they contain certain words. Ones that would bring down Ruin on my Head if I said them.
