Post by wildfire on Oct 16, 2005 20:20:00 GMT -5
Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce owns it, I don’t. Oh, yeah, and this was loosely inspired by my friend, Erin.
PG
Summary: A completely random tale of Tortall (with occasional dashes of Harry Potter, Arnold Schwarzennegger, and whoever else happens to pop into my head and yell at me). Please don’t be alarmed if you have no idea what’s going on; neither do I.
“Please don’t become a Siberian monk, Jonathan!” Thayet pleaded. “I wouldn’t be able to survive without your whining and arrogant comments!” Then, thinking for the first time in her life, Thayet realized that if Jon became a monk she would have the whole palace to herself, and she would be the most beautiful person in the land because Siberia was in a whole new dimension. “On second thought, you should go. I’ve heard the weather is very nice there.”
“Ah, yes,” Jon replied, twirling the ends of his brand-new Frenchie moustache. “The sub-zero temperatures should be lovely. I’ll go.” And with a poof of putrid smoke that smelled like an elephant farting, he transported to Siberia, where all of the monks shunned him and he couldn’t get his Mary Kay lipstick delivered because the sled dogs would die before they reached the monastery.
“I believe it’s time for a festival,” suggested Alanna.
“But that’ll cost too much money,” the Stump whined.
“DIE, YOU STINGY SEXIST PIG!!!!!!!!!” Alanna shrieked, and slayed him with some plastic salad tongs.
“Ow, she slayed me with futuristic serving utensils!” were his final words.
Everybody quickly prepared the feast because Alanna was brandishing bloody salad tongs at them.
“Caw!” cawed Nawat.
“EEEEKK!” yodeled Keladry. “You psychotic bird! Get away from me!” Kel ran away like a girl, which she only does when a crow who is in desperate need of a Tic-Tac caws in her face.
“Wait Kel, my fire, my hurricane, my tsunami!” Neal read from one of his poems.
“Nooooooooooo, I’m melting!” cried everyone in the immediate vicinity, who promptly turned into purple puddles.
“What did I do?” Neal pondered. We’ll leave him to his pondering for a few hours now.
In another part of the castle, Daine was communing with the zebras that mysteriously herded to the palace, even though they are in the Savanna biome and Tortall was a Temperate Forest.
“Nay!” said the head zebra.
“Mmmhmmm,” Daine mumbled as she scribbled. “And how does that make you feel?”
“Naynaynaynaynaynay.”
“I see, and how does that make you feel?”
“NAYNAY!!!!!” the zebra nayed angrily.
“No need to get touchy!”
Numair, who had been watching this insanity for some time, asked, “What are you doing, magelet?”
“I’m going to have a new show on Animal Planet called ‘The Zebra Whisperer’.”
“Really? But the television doesn’t exist in our dimension.”
“Of course it does, silly! Don’t you see the camera crew?”
“Hi, I’m Ed!” said a TV guy with a huge belly and a plumber shot.
“Er, hi,” Numair said, waving half-heartedly.
“I WANT TO BE ON THE JOLLY TV!!” screamed Owen jollily.
“Rack, Shack and Benny,” mumbled Numair.
“JOLLY JOLLY JOLLY JOLLY!”
“What’s wrong with this kid?” Ed asked Fred.
“I think he fell out of bed and hit his head,” replied Fred. “What do you think, Ned?”
“Well, he’s a little full of lead, but Red isn’t much better.”
PG
Summary: A completely random tale of Tortall (with occasional dashes of Harry Potter, Arnold Schwarzennegger, and whoever else happens to pop into my head and yell at me). Please don’t be alarmed if you have no idea what’s going on; neither do I.
“Please don’t become a Siberian monk, Jonathan!” Thayet pleaded. “I wouldn’t be able to survive without your whining and arrogant comments!” Then, thinking for the first time in her life, Thayet realized that if Jon became a monk she would have the whole palace to herself, and she would be the most beautiful person in the land because Siberia was in a whole new dimension. “On second thought, you should go. I’ve heard the weather is very nice there.”
“Ah, yes,” Jon replied, twirling the ends of his brand-new Frenchie moustache. “The sub-zero temperatures should be lovely. I’ll go.” And with a poof of putrid smoke that smelled like an elephant farting, he transported to Siberia, where all of the monks shunned him and he couldn’t get his Mary Kay lipstick delivered because the sled dogs would die before they reached the monastery.
“I believe it’s time for a festival,” suggested Alanna.
“But that’ll cost too much money,” the Stump whined.
“DIE, YOU STINGY SEXIST PIG!!!!!!!!!” Alanna shrieked, and slayed him with some plastic salad tongs.
“Ow, she slayed me with futuristic serving utensils!” were his final words.
Everybody quickly prepared the feast because Alanna was brandishing bloody salad tongs at them.
“Caw!” cawed Nawat.
“EEEEKK!” yodeled Keladry. “You psychotic bird! Get away from me!” Kel ran away like a girl, which she only does when a crow who is in desperate need of a Tic-Tac caws in her face.
“Wait Kel, my fire, my hurricane, my tsunami!” Neal read from one of his poems.
“Nooooooooooo, I’m melting!” cried everyone in the immediate vicinity, who promptly turned into purple puddles.
“What did I do?” Neal pondered. We’ll leave him to his pondering for a few hours now.
In another part of the castle, Daine was communing with the zebras that mysteriously herded to the palace, even though they are in the Savanna biome and Tortall was a Temperate Forest.
“Nay!” said the head zebra.
“Mmmhmmm,” Daine mumbled as she scribbled. “And how does that make you feel?”
“Naynaynaynaynaynay.”
“I see, and how does that make you feel?”
“NAYNAY!!!!!” the zebra nayed angrily.
“No need to get touchy!”
Numair, who had been watching this insanity for some time, asked, “What are you doing, magelet?”
“I’m going to have a new show on Animal Planet called ‘The Zebra Whisperer’.”
“Really? But the television doesn’t exist in our dimension.”
“Of course it does, silly! Don’t you see the camera crew?”
“Hi, I’m Ed!” said a TV guy with a huge belly and a plumber shot.
“Er, hi,” Numair said, waving half-heartedly.
“I WANT TO BE ON THE JOLLY TV!!” screamed Owen jollily.
“Rack, Shack and Benny,” mumbled Numair.
“JOLLY JOLLY JOLLY JOLLY!”
“What’s wrong with this kid?” Ed asked Fred.
“I think he fell out of bed and hit his head,” replied Fred. “What do you think, Ned?”
“Well, he’s a little full of lead, but Red isn’t much better.”
