by Aliria » Thu Nov 03, 2016 1:51 am
FiveSecondsToFly wrote:Ok, you do that Julie.
How's everyone nanos going? Better than you expected? Worse?
by DeMaizu » Thu Nov 03, 2016 5:35 am
FiveSecondsToFly wrote:Ok, you do that Julie.
How's everyone nanos going? Better than you expected? Worse?
by Sciencin' » Thu Nov 03, 2016 7:49 am
Narrator: Emy was a fifteen-year-old blonde girl who was walking through town when she was jumped by a hobo on the street.
(Narrator) stands there doing tree imitation
Hobo: Hey yo man you gotta come with me and go on a quest! There’s an evil villain who wants to destroy the world!!
Emy: Go away! What’s wrong with you?! I don’t know you. Why would I go with you? You’re a random hobo on the street and I have to go home now.
Hobo: You gotta follow me! <awkward silence> There’s candy where we’re going and I don’t have a weapon do I? And I need to save the world.
Emy: Huh? Candy? Okay, for the candy. It better not be Twizzlers.
Hobo: Alright, come on already! Move it!
*walk off scene*
Narrator: Later, when they reached the woods….
Hobo: *gestures to leaf pile* Welcome to my palace of wonders!
Emy: Uhhh… Ummm.. that’s… a nice “palace of wonders” you’ve got there.
Hobo: There’s oak leaves, and maple leaves, and also some twigs, can’t forget the twigs, the neighbors’ garbage- I gotta few socks, too; I have a spare, wannit? Eh, also- right, the mud, and I think a few twigs- did I mention that? Wait one more thing… *reaches into leaf pile* I also have a sword, I’m pretty sure.. *gropes around* Mmmmph… Hhmmmmph… I think I- nope, that’s a beer can…
Emy: *starts to back away*
Hobo: Aha! Got it! *holds up awesome sword triumphantly*
Emy: Erm, I… think I better go… I’m late for… um… welll..
Hobo: Nah, you gonna learn to use dis thing. *drops sword on ground* Now, man, wat yo gotta do, you gotta pick it up by the round thing. Don’t tuch the sharp part, I dont wan’ blood in meh house.
Emy: *awkwardly picks up sword*
Hobo: Now, you gonna pretend that tree is da bad guy. *points too tree* So what you gonna do you gonna swing the sword. What’s gonna happen, the sword’s gonna go through the air and it’s gonna hit the bad guy, got it?
Emy: Ummm… okay, I’ll hit the tree with a sword. Poor tree. *swings sword weakly and awkwardly* *misses*
Hobo: Okay man so you almost got it. You picked it up and didn’t bleed all over da house and you swung it and it went through the air but it didn’t hit the tree. Do it again!
Emy: *swings sword again and hits tree*
Tree: *gives Emy death glare and throws apple at both hobo and Emy*
Hobo: Hey you! Tree! Yeah, I’m talkin to you! *grabs rusty axe* That’s enough!
Tree: *turns death glare to hobo and throws tsunami of apples*
Hobo: Stupid tree. C’mon, we’re gonna save the world. Stupid tree. Take the sword!
Emy: Who, me or the tree?
Hobo: You! Take the sword and cmon or I’m leavin’ you here with the wolves and that tree!
Emy: Oooookey dokey.
*walk off scene*
*tree uproots self and walks after them*
Tree: A few hours later….
*hobo walks swiftly onto scene*
*Emy stumbles after him, gasping*
Emy: Are we there yet?
Hobo: Does it look like we’re there yet!? Come one!
Emy: I’m coming- gaaaaahh! *trips and rolls over to rock*
Rock: Ahh! Who are you? No, I don’t care. You shall not pass! I am ze almighty Rock!
Emy: I’m dreaming…
Rock: I am no dream! I am very real! And I’ll keel you! Keeeeel you! A lot! Until you dead! You hear that? Hear that huh? Huh? Stranger!
Emy: Well then. *picks up rock* What have we got here?
Rock: Wait! What are you doing? What do you think you’re doing! I am de king of da world!! Put me down! I demand it! I’ll keeeeeel you until you dead! And den’ I’ll keeel you even more! Just for good measure! Ha!
Emy: You’re not even a rock. You’re paper.
Rock: How dare you insult me, you insolent little girl! Put me down!
Emy: *shrugs, drops rock on head*
Rock: Ahhh! Watch it! Ouch! Owww, my head…. gluggggrrlrlrlr….what? Who…. are you? Who… am I?
Emy: You are my slave who will help me defeat the evil villain who is trying to take over the world. You will follow me and do as I say. Do you understand? I will call you… Rock. Rock, heel!
Rock: Mmmkay. *Emy drags rock around with string* *wait a few seconds* Are we there yet? *walk to edge of stage*
Tree: *inconspicuously follow them*
Narrator: A few hours later when Emy caught up to Hobo George...
Rock: Are we there yet?
Emy: I have no idea. Stop saying that. You’ve said at least a million times.
Hobo: Aha! Here we are!
Emy: *stares ahead, seeing nothing special* Ummm, okay, now how do you know that? And where’s the bad guy?
Hobo: *looks around, frowns* Huh, he’s here alright. But we can’t fight him right now.
Emy: WHAT?! You dragged me all the way over here, made me hit a magic tree with a sword, and after all that work you’re telling me WE CAN’T FIGHT HIM?!
Hobo: Yup! Well, come along now! *turns around* *sees tree* Hey does that tree look familiar?
Tree: *glares and throws apples*
Emy: That’s the tree I swung the sword at! Wait…. what.
Tree: *uproots self and throws more apples*
Rock: Oh hi tree! Oh my gosh can we keep it can we keep it Emy PLEEEEEEASE? Come on can we? I'll feed it and walk it and everything!
Emy: Ermm… this is too weird, I think I’m gonna go…
Hobo: Good idea! *flies back*
Emy: Why do you get to fly wait WHAT?
Hobo: *Turns around and lands* *takes off coat* BECAUSE I’M THE BAD GUY!
Emy: What the- *swings sword and stabs bad guy*
Hobo: *falls, sword breaks*
Tree: *throws apple*
Rock: *jumps on top of bad guy saying:* BAD bad guy! BAD BAD BAD!
Darth Sword: *groans* Eeeeeeemmmm…. eeeeemmmmmmmmyyyyyyy…..
Emy: *looks shocked, holds sword in front of face* Sword! Speak to me! Sword!
Sword: Emy….. Emy… I… am… your… father.
Emy: What!? Noooo! Don’t die! Please no!!
Tree: *stalks away* My work here is done…. I’ll just leave you now...
Rock: Noooooooooooooo don’t leaveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! My treeeeee!!! You can sleep in my bed! I’ll give you tree food and I’ll trim your leaves so you look like a rock and-
Tree: OOOOHHHH no you don’t! *runs away*
Emy: Father, please, nooooo….. *sobs, holding sword* WAIT! I HAVE AN IDEA FATHER!
Rock: I wanna go home.
Darth Sword: Leave me here, Emy…. There’s nothing you can do….
Emy: Of course there is!!!
Darth Sword: You have to, Emy… leave me….
Emy: I have an idea! Come with me father!
Darth Sword: Emy!!
Rock: I’m coming too. I want rock food. And bed. Me want bed.
Emy: *runs with sword and rock*
Narrator: *peeks out and says:* When she got home…
Emy: I can help you, father! Wait one moment! *goes off stage and gets ductape* *tapes sword* There we go!
Rock: I want a pillow. And rock foods. Nom. *directs question at narrator* And do we get to live happily ever after now?
Narrator: Yes, you get to live happily ever after.
Rock: Yaaay!
Narrator: And so they lived happily ever after…. for now…
Once upon a time, in a small town in the land known as Ohio, there lived a girl named Sally Johnson. Sally was not comfortable giving away her age, so we can guess without much certainty that she was somewhere between fourteen and eighteen.
This girl named Sally had a phosphorescent and not- so- affable pet rock named Joe. (One time she covered him in ‘temporary’ glow-in-the-dark paint; it never came off and from then on he was a very bright rock.) Sally also had two friends. One of them was a phototropic and angry cherry tree named Bill which communicated by waving its branches. The other was a not-so-photogenic and not-so-circumspect clueless old hobo with a passion for tin cans and beans. His name was John Smith, but for some reason he went by Bob.
Sally had met all her wonderful friends two years earlier, when they all went on an adventure to defeat the invidious Evil Guy. Long story short, Sally found out that the ‘Bob’ she was traveling with was actually not only Evil Guy but also Bob’s doppelganger. They killed Evil Guy and lived happily ever after… for two years, at least.
It was Halloween and Sally had seen an advertisement in a magazine for a haunted house that was going to open in their neighborhood. After her exciting adventure, going back to her normal routine had been pretty boring, so she liked the prospect of doing something a bit more exciting than watching geese migrate. She decided it would be fun to take her friends with her- not that she was scared or anything, but Bob the Hobo rarely ever left his shack, Bill the Tree never really did much, and Joe the Rock needed some way other than yelling at people to get rid of his aggressive energy.
She grabbed a drawstring bag and shoved a few canned beans, a large bag of fertilizer, and her wallet into it. Then she looked at Joe the Rock. Joe the Rock glared back up at her.
“What, so now Bill and Bob get treats and I, your loyal companion, get nothing?” he growled. Sally sighed and grabbed a bag of cheese puffs. She shoved them into the bag, then put on her coat and looked down at Joe again.
“Don’t do it, woman,” Joe growled. She opened the bag, bent down, and picked Joe up. Joe bit her finger.
“OW!” Sally dropped the rock and the bag on the floor and shook her finger as if that would make it feel less like it had just been bitten by a rock. “Why are you such a provocative rock all the time?!”
Joe probably would’ve crossed his arms, but that would’ve been difficult for a rock. “I’ve told you six hundred seventy-three times that I hate going in that dang bag!”
Sally rolled her eyes as she bent down to pick up the bag and all the food that had spilled out of it. “And how else do you plan on getting to Bob’s?”
“I’ll walk,” Joe said stubbornly.
Sally stood up and did her best to glare Joe down. “Alright then. If you don’t get into the ‘dang’ bag, I’ll renounce my position as your guardian. See how well you get around then! And….” She let the sentence hang for dramatic effect. “No more cheese puffs.” If rocks could be pale, Joe would be. “Is that lucid enough for your nonexistent rock-brain to understand?”
Joe mumbled something but let Sally put him in the bag. Sally walked out the back door and the two of them started towards Bob’s shack in the woods behind Sally’s house.
After about ten minutes of walking, Sally caught sight of something ugly, green, orange, and purple between the tree trunks. She recognized Bob’s shack (or Hobo Home, as he liked to call it) and, much to the dismay of the rock whose face was smashed into a can of beans in her bag, she ran the rest of the way there.
Bob the Hobo was outside the shack; the ground around him was, as usual, littered with tin cans, cardboard, and generally looked like a feast for goats. None of this was surprising- except for the fact that Bob was sitting on a tree stump… reading a book?
“Since when can you read?” she asked. Bob looked up and shrugged, then looked back at his book. “I brought you some food,” she pressed.
Bob nodded distractedly, then squinted at the page in front of him. “Could you please elucidate what kind of food you brought me?”
Sally blinked. “Okay… what book is that?”
Bob looked at the cover. “It’s called ‘Vocabulary From Latin And Greek Roots: A Study of Word Families.’ It’s supposed to help me talk better, I guess? But I don’t see how I can use a lot of these words. I mean, dictum? Who even says that?”
Sally stared at him blankly for a second, and turned around to look for Bill. “Great. Now a hobo’s going to have a better vocabulary than me,” she mumbled. “Excuse me?” Bob said. “I didn’t quite catch what you said there, could you please enunciate a bit mo-“
“YO!” something yelled in a harsh voice. Sally cringed, and opened the bag. Joe jumped out and nearly landed on her big toe. “Hey!” Sally yelled. “Jerk.”
“I think his behavior is very infantile,” Bob pronounced. He just managed to avoid a spitball. “And rude.”
Bill the Cherry Tree, who was standing behind Bob, rustled his branches. Sally jumped. “Hey, there you are! I knew you were going to be nearby.” If trees could give skeptical looks, Bill would do a great job of it. His aggressive branch-rustling seemed to be saying, “I live here. Where else would I be?”
“He’s right,” Bob said without looking behind him. Sally rolled her eyes.
“That’s exactly the point! You guys spend all your time here at Bob’s shack!”
“It’s a house! Not a shack,” Bob interrupted.
“That’s not the point.” She waved the advertisement in his face. “Get up. You’re going.” Bob snatched the paper and grinned like a happy kid. “Okay!” Bill just rustled.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sally said.
They arrived at the haunted house at nine only to be kicked out again. Bill wasn’t allowed in since he wasn’t even human and would get in the way too much, and Bob was told that it was not acceptable to sacrifice personal hygiene for a good hobo costume. So Bob thought it would be a good idea to fool all the staff and people into leaving and then get to explore it on their own. Sally didn’t want to, but she was outvoted three to one. “Alright, into the house, and that’s an edict!” Bob cried with glee.
Long story short, they managed to get themselves locked inside without any power.
“I told you this was a bad idea!”/”Where’s the food?!”/”Well it’s their fault for voting for it!”/”Rustle, rustle!”
”I can’t see a thing- What’s that?”
“That’s me, you idiot!”
“Oh. Hi, Joe.”
“Rustle, rustle.”
Suddenly, everyone could see.
“I thought the power was out!” Sally said, looking around in confusion.
“It is,” Bob said. Sally looked over and saw Bob was holding a match. He used it to light a candle that sat on a table next to a fake skull.
“Great,” she said sarcastically. “Big help. What do we do now that you got us locked in here?”
“We improvise!” Bob beamed. “Rustle rustle?...” “Don’t worry! I already have an idea! Where’s the basement?”
“Are you kidding me?” Sally hissed. “This place is creepy enough with the power on! I’m not going down there!” She pointed to the basement door.
“Thanks,” Bob said. He opened the door and walked down the stairs, holding the candle in front of him. Bill followed him despite the fact that some of its leaves got torn off while trying to fit through the doorway.
Sally gritted her teeth, picked up Joe, and ran after them. “You’re impossible!” she yelled at Bob. “I know!” he called back happily.
At the bottom, they found themselves in what appeared to be a large library. The floor was made of stone; in the middle of the room a five-pronged star with odd symbols around it was carved into the floor. Bob’s eyes lit up with excitement. “You know what this is, right?” he whispered.
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” Sally said. “Yup!” Bob grinned. Sally sighed, exasperated. “What is it?”
Bob looked around as if looking for something. He walked around the room’s perimeter with the candle until he apparently found what he was looking for- a large chest shoved against the back wall.
“I don’t think we should open that,” Sally called. Bob opened it. Sally groaned. “Bob, would you-“
“Here we go!” Bob pulled out a big dusty book and a couple jars of… something. He put the stuff on the floor and pulled out a black bundle and- was that a cauldron? Sally, Bill, and Joe spent the next ten minutes watching, confused, as Bob set up what appeared to be some sort of ritual.
“Are you going to tell us what you’re doing anytime this month?” Joe snapped.
“We, my friends, are going to invoke the aid of a powerful demon!”
They all stared at him. “Rustle, rustle?...” Bill said.
“It’s right,” Joe growled. “This is your brilliant plan?”
“Yup. I have a master’s in Black Magic, trust me,” Bob said, his face turning serious for the first time since they had arrived at the haunted house.
Joe opened his mouth to say something discouraging, but Sally poked him with her toe. “If you really want to,” she said to Bob with a shrug.
“We’re wasting our time,” Joe said. “I know,” Sally replied. They watched Bob go about his demon-summoning business.
He put on his black cloak (probably just for dramatic effect), dropped some still unidentified ingredients into the cauldron, and then set it on fire with his candle. The whole thing went up in a purple mushroom cloud, then continued to burn with ghostly purple fire. Bob stared chanting something that sounded an awful lot like “the thief was indicted because his face was lopsided” but was probably something more along the lines of “thu thee va idnite beca hifais vazlop saydid”.
Nothing happened. The purple flames shrank.
“Well, that was-“ Joe started.
The cauldron erupted, their candle was blown out, and the back wall was suddenly taken up by what looked like a big black fiery whirlpool which was growing bigger each second.
“Cool,” Joe gaped. “Dude, that actually worked! That is sick!”
“Well... That’s… ineffable,” Sally managed to say. Bob only nodded. They stared at the portal in anticipation as it grew to cover the entire back wall; the bookshelves around it were starting to catch fire. That’s not good, Sally thought. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” she said nervously.
“Too late,” Bob pointed with a shrug. A pale, ghostly silhouette had appeared in the portal.
“Rustle, rustle.”
“Aren’t we lucky,” Sally agreed sarcastically.
“I guess it was very providential that you insisted on keeping that fertilizer for when we’re in the haunted house,” Bob said. “No offense to Bill, but if we need to run, we can throw it at the thing. It’s gross enough to keep it occupied for a while.”
“Rustle, rustle!” Bill rustled indignantly.
Suddenly, in a brilliant flash of light, the portal disappeared. Sally, Bob, and Joe rubbed their eyes as they tried to get their eyes used to the darkness again. Of course, Bill didn’t have eyes.
Finally, they could make out the translucent specter in the darkness. The guy was pretty young and thin, with messy hair, an old sweatshirt, and only one sock. He was rubbing his eyes- and slowly sinking into the ground. Suddenly realizing that he was neck-deep in floor, he quickly flew up, only to have his head shoot through the ceiling. He came down more slowly and stared at the young girl, old man, tree, and sentient rock in front of him.
“Ummm…” he stared at them blankly. “W-what am I d-doing here?”
“You’re going to help us get out of here, demon!” Bob said.
“Seriously, w-why am I h-here?!” The poor guy sounded pretty freaked out.
“Who are you?” Joe demanded.
“I- I- I’m Joe,” the ghost said.
“You can’t be Joe! That’s already my name!” Joe the Rock barked.
“W-w-well there’s lots of people n-named Joe-“
“What a loser!” Joe the Rock yelled to no one in particular. “We asked for a demon, not a guy who probably died choking on a dumpling or something!”
“H-h-how did you guess that?!” Joe the Ghost yelped. “A-and anyways, I am a demon!” He flew up so he was hovering a meter in the air and looking down on them, as if trying to look scary. “A-and I’m here to haunt you, s-so you’d b-b-better leave my castle or else-“
“Or else what?” Bill said.
Sally stared at Bill. “I thought you couldn’t talk!”
“Not until this loser came along. I had to save it for the right occasion,” Bill said. Joe and Bill laughed.
“This really isn’t what I asked for,” Bob said. “I was hoping to summon something more… useful.” Sally elbowed him in the ribs.
“H-hey! Sh-shut up! I-I’m a demon, you know! A-and I’m h-here to h-h-haunt you! A-and you should be very scared of me since-“ Joe’s voice cracked.
“W-w-what are you g-g-going to do? R-r-revoke our demon summoning license?” Bill said sarcastically.
“You stop that or else!” Joe’s voice cracked again. His fists were shaking like an angry toddler’s.
“Or else what? You’re going to s-s-s-stutter our s-s-souls away?” Joe the Rock snickered.
“T-that’s not even physically possible!” The other Joe yelped.
“That’s not the point!” Yelled Joe the Rock. “The point is you’re a dang loser and unless you can help us get out of this stupid haunted house then you can go back to being Mayor of Loserville or something!”
“Guys,” Sally said, “there’s no way he’s going to help us if all you do is trash-talk him-“
“He lets himself get trash-talked by a tree and a rock! I think that’s already an excuse to trash-talk him even more!” Joe the Rock yelled. “Besides, if he’s as useless as he looks then we’re just wasting our time!”
The ghost sniffled and started trembling. “I- I- I’m not a loser!” he squeaked.
“Loser,” Joe the Rock said in a bored voice.
Joe sobbed and flew through the ceiling.
This was followed by an awkward silence.
“Well,” Bob said. “I guess that’s over.”
“Guys!” Sally cried. “Ghosts have feelings too, you know! He’s dead! Have a little sympathy!”
“He was a loser, though,” Joe the Rock said. “Well, time to get a move-on!”
“Right,” Bob said. “We can just go through the back door.”
“You’re telling me all along there was a back door and we didn’t use it?!” Sally fumed.
“I just wanted to have some fun!” Bob whined. “Time to go!” He picked up Joe and ran up the stairs.
Sally stared at the back wall guiltily. She didn’t want to leave knowing that the poor guy was probably upstairs crying about how he was a useless loser.
Reverently, she took off her bag, opened it, and pulled out a can of beans and a can opener. She set it on the floor in the middle of the room. Then, with one last glance at the ceiling, she ran up the stairs to join Bill, Bob, and Joe.
A head poked through the ceiling. With a long sniffff Joe floated down into the room and looked at the can of beans. It was, to be honest, the nicest thing anything had ever done to him, and for the first time in several decades he left that someone appreciated him enough to leave him a can of beans. He could barely remember what beans tasted like. He floated closer to the can, and his heart sank.
There was a can opened sitting right on top of the can. He reached out to grab it, but his hand passed straight through it.
He sat down and started sobbing, barely realizing he was sinking into the floor again. So close, but so far!...
by Sciencin' » Thu Nov 03, 2016 8:03 am
salty potato. wrote:
those are the most terribly beautiful pieces of literature i have
ever read. please post more.
Day One
I am officially confounded.
I got up today from that video game I was playing to grab some popcorn, and I realized I’m out. So I open the door to see if the lady who lives in the apartment below me is there so I can replete my stash- she always lets me have hers, maybe ‘cuz she’s scared I’m gonna TP her house while she’s gone. And there’s this guy standing in front of the door, except he’s kind of a ghost.
He’s not a figment of my imagination, trust me on that. I saw him the day before at the haunted house when I took this can of beans home with me and he threatened to steal my cutlery. I thought he was some form of fancy lighting hologram tourist attraction thing, but apparently he’s real. To be honest, I’m kind of disappointed; whenever you see them in horror movies and such they’re terrifying and all covered in blood and stuff. This guy was pretty much my age, give or take a year, and he’s basically the epitome of a loser. Imagine a lanky white blonde seventeen-year-old with glasses in a wrinkled baby-blue sweatshirt with some high school’s logo on it and jeans older than dirt with a hole in one knee that is definitely not a fashion statement, and you have this guy. He had the disposition of a nerd who still slept with a teddy bear. Seriously, the first thing he said when I opened the door was “Ummmmmm…” That’s always a fairly accurate prefigure of a loser. Talk about socially inept- he’s worse off than I am, and that’s saying something.
Apparently his name is Joe and he wants those beans I picked up at the haunted house. At the time I’d posited they were someone’s idea of ‘funny’, but now that I knew he wanted it, it was a different matter. There was no way I’m giving him the beans. If the ghost wants them, it’s probably for a good reason. I am totally keeping these- maybe he’ll actually be scary if he gets angry, though I highly doubt it. Beans of doom! Sounds like a good rock band name.
Day Two
Dang, this ghost is more tenacious than I thought. To be honest, I sort of expected him to just leave when I slammed the door in his face, but he’s still here. Actually, I found him in my pantry. Seriously. Next to the can of beans. He was talking to the can of beans. It’d almost make me feel sorry for him if I wasn’t already angry.
“Dude, what are you doing in my pantry?”
The guy looked startled. “Y-y-you cannot inhibit me from getting my beans back, y-you thief!” Joe stuttered. “I’m a powerful demon, and you don’t have the aptitude to make me leave even if you tried! S-s-so don’t try! Trust me, you would suffer the consequences-”
“Shut up, dictionary,” I said.
“Shut up, Thomas Sandal,” he replied, attempting to grab the can of beans. His hand passed right through it. “You are prohibited from talking to me!”
“Dude, Sandal doesn’t even sound like Sanders,” I snapped. He pouted and turned to face the corner. He started sinking into the floor; when he was neck-deep in the floor he apparently realized he was going through the ground and flew back up so half his body was in the ceiling. I sighed; there was no way I could abstain from trying to punch him. My hand went right through him, but it still seemed to make him uncomfortable, so I did it again a few times hoping it would make him leave. He managed to keep an angry face for about five seconds before his eyes teared up and he flew away to who-knows-where.
Day Three
He came back overnight. The fact that I woke up with a plastic dinosaur in my mouth was a pretty good clue.
Not gonna lie, this is getting pretty annoying. First off, this ghost’s choice of vocabulary is already obnoxious on its own. I mean, who actually uses ‘suffuse’ in a sentence? The only upside is there were some bloodstains on my carpet- maybe he’s like one of those ghosts who got stabbed to death and is still dripping blood?
Anyways, so I got up and decided it was time to have breakfast. I opened my fridge to grab a Mountain Dew, and I swear to god, there he was, curled up in a ball, divided into three pieces by the refrigerator’s shelves. “Give me my beans back!” he yelled (or at least I think it was supposed to be a yell; it came out more like a frightened squeak.) “Or I will deplete your food source!” I couldn’t help but snicker.
I decided to implement a different strategy. Joe followed me up to my room like the most embarrassing retinue the world has ever seen. I grabbed a heavy metal CD from my shelf, put it into my computer, and cranked the speakers up real loud. Joe’s face scrunched up when I hit play and the sounds of banging and electric guitar infused the house. “D-d-do you seriously listen to your music at this volume?!” he yelled over the noise.
“Can’t hear you, bro,” I smirked. “What, don’t like the music? Tch, what do you listen to? Mozart?”
“Better Mozart than getting your eardrums blown out,” he muttered- or at least I think that’s what he muttered. Might’ve been something like “Butter dessert effigies get your eardrums blown up.”
Wait- I swear to god, he is looking over my shoulder as I am typing this. And- seriously, this dead loser is correcting my grammar. You have got to be kidding me.
Day Seven
Today I have found the source of the blood from a few days ago. It was a dead squirrel that has apparently been sitting in my attic for a month or so. Also, it was possessed by Joe. The fact that he used this thing to put a toy dinosaur in my mouth concerns me- I mean, the fact that the dead squirrel put something in my mouth, not the actual dino, though that was pretty uncomfortable too. Apparently he’s not very adept at sustaining a physical form, even if all he has to do is enter some living or once-living body; I found the squirrel carcass with a sharpie in its paws at my bedroom door. Looks like he didn’t get to me in time because there aren’t any sharpie marks on my face.
I walked into my living room and sat down on the sofa, waiting for Joe to pop up. He floated out of the wall the instant I sat down. “So, are you going to give me my beans today?” he pouted, crossing his arms.
“Why exactly do you want these beans so badly?” I asked, leaning back casually. “And I’ll be able to tell if you’re giving me misinformation.”
Joe looked uncomfortable. “B-b-because it’s the only thing someone has ever given me just because they were feeling nice,” he stuttered.
“Okay. And why are you such a loser?”
“Y-y-you can’t impose a question like that!” Joe squealed. “I-I-I’m not a loser!”
“Answer my question or no beans.”
He pouted even more. “My formative years weren’t exactly the best, okay? I never got a chance to reform.”
“That was a terrible pun,” I said. He stared at me blankly.
“So, how did you die?” I asked, shifting myself into a more comfortable position on the couch and grabbing a half-eaten bag of doritos from yesterday off the table.
“I died in a gunfight,” Joe said.
“You are a terrible liar. Knowing you, you probably choked on a dumpling or something.”
“Sh-shut up! Don’t judge me! Just because I died because a dumpling got stuck in my throat -”
“Wait, so that lump in your throat is actually a dumpling, not an adam’s apple?”
“Yes, it’s a dumpling!” Joe sobbed. “So can I have my beans back now?”
“No.”
Day Ten
Honestly, I still can’t believe that dorito of a teenager wrote a four-page diary on Google Drive about me. I didn’t mean to kill him, I swear. It was an accident. He was going down the stairs and I was in a bad mood so I put my hood up and kinda floated around behind him looking angry and then he turned around and saw me and yelled and then I guess he tripped or something but he fell down the stairs and… It just… kind of happened.
Basically, Thomas Sandal- sorry, Sanders, I really shouldn’t make fun of dead people- broke his neck because of me. Well, it’s not really because of me! He got freaked out and he fell down a flight of stairs or three. I’d like to say I’ll miss him. It’s pretty traumatizing, for me at least- I mean, like, I technically killed him, and if I became a ghost after I died, why couldn’t he?... But I’m not going to lie, I’m not going to miss him.
Dear god, is that police sirens? Did someone call the cops? It’s not like I can run- then again it’s not like they can catch me- wait, yes I can run- but my beans are still here!
The only upside to this whole fiasco was that I got my beans back, though I can’t really move them. It appears that the late Thomas Sanders’s pantry will become my new permanent residence. I need to find a better vessel- seriously, this decomposing squirrel is not the best host, especially not for typing on a keyboard. I hope my dead friend doesn’t make the police suspicious- that reminds me, better go hide.
Day 10, 5 Hours Later
Well, what I just said about the beans? Well, turns out I’m out of luck. And just when I thought I was off the hook and ready to fly! They took Thomas’s body. It turns out since he found out I could possess things, he has apparently been carrying Marsha- excuse me, my wonderful can of beans that Sally gave to me- in his sweatshirt pocket: the sweatshirt he had work for the past ten days, and the sweatshirt the police had taken his body away in. The cops have my beans, the one precious thing in my life at the moment.
For once in my life, can someone just explain to me why the world hates me?
Joe returned to the mansion soon after the travelers had left. He was honestly infused with euphoria about the gift of canned beans that the girl had blessed him with, what a shame that he can’t interact with any tangible object. He wasn’t particularly adept at sustaining a physical form, either- possessing people is a lot harder than it looks.
Soon enough, Joe heard yet another mortal enter his house. Why they wouldn’t just abstain from entering the building confounded him. Eventually, he saw the human in question enter the room. He was uncomfortably gangly, even more so than Joe himself. He had a bitter disposition, and it seemed like he would be just as inept at social interaction. The teenager saw the can of beans in the middle of the now-inactive summoning circle, positing it to be some kind of lousy offering. He picked it up- teenagers seemed to have an aptitude for touching things they shouldn’t- and that was when Joe decided to float in.
“...Hey, w-what are you doing?” he asked, trying to implement some form of intimidation in his voice. It didn’t work.
The human looked in his direction, a little surprised, assuming him to be a figment of his imagination. When he realized that Joe was, in fact, a real ghost, he actually seemed rather bored.
“Oh,” was all he said.
“‘Oh’? You’re a-awfully polite, aren’t y-you?” Joe continued to try and be imposing, though he seemed to actually stutter more in his attempts.
“...Yes, ‘oh.’ Now what do you want?” the teenager asked, flatly.
“Well, uh, that can of beans you’ve got is mine, a-and I prohibit you from taking it!”
The teenager stared at him blankly. “And if I don’t give them back?”
Joe stammered. “I’ll...I’ll steal your c-cutlery?”
At this, the human was suffused with laughter. “What kind of threat is that?”
Joe only mumbled in response. It was possible to hear a few words like “prefigure,” “formative” and “doritos” before Joe finally responded, “H-how about I make an effigy of you and destroy it with fire instead? Is that any better?”
The mortal only continued to laugh, before walking out the door with the beans. “Yeah, as if you even had the willpower to inhibit me!”
Emitting a high-pitched whine, Joe followed him out the door.
Joe was incredibly tenacious when it came to his can of beans. He had been following the human- who revealed his name to be Thomas- around for around a week now. Like the world’s smallest retinue, he never strayed too far from Thomas, constantly asking if maybe he’d reform his ideas and give him the beans back. Sometimes there’d be a “threat” of depleting his refrigerator of food, or repleting it, although with significantly less pleasant items. There was also Joe’s occasional attempt to seem cool, though misinformation was never really his strong suit, and Thomas saw right through it. None of it ever really worked, though the important thing was the attempt. Thomas actually wrote an entire diary of sorts on Joe- now who’s the loser?
Joe still wanted his can of beans back, and even after a week of failed attempts, he kept trying. And in a way, he succeeded. Just not in a legal manner. He killed Thomas, indirectly. It wasn’t his fault! Thomas got a little spooked because Joe had been following him around uncomfortably close, and he fell down one- well, three- flights of stairs. He was glad he’d gotten his beans back, which was the most important part. He also got the police on his back. It wasn’t like he could run without abandoning his beans, though it wasn’t like the police could touch him, either.
Too bad the police took Thomas’s body- and by extension, the can of beans inside his jacket.
by Zexalii » Thu Nov 03, 2016 8:07 am
by Sciencin' » Thu Nov 03, 2016 8:08 am
Firestrike! wrote:That... that was amazing! But I don't remember learning the hobo's name then suddenly he has a name?
This girl named Sally had a phosphorescent and not- so- affable pet rock named Joe. (One time she covered him in ‘temporary’ glow-in-the-dark paint; it never came off and from then on he was a very bright rock.) Sally also had two friends. One of them was a phototropic and angry cherry tree named Bill which communicated by waving its branches. The other was a not-so-photogenic and not-so-circumspect clueless old hobo with a passion for tin cans and beans. His name was John Smith, but for some reason he went by Bob.
by DeMaizu » Thu Nov 03, 2016 8:32 am
by birbmememaster24 » Thu Nov 03, 2016 8:45 am
by DeMaizu » Thu Nov 03, 2016 8:49 am
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