Make your own free website on Tripod.com

lie.gif (155893 bytes)

The world is collapsing and all I can do is not watch TV.

barf.gif (14517 bytes)

 

This is a discordian Fairy Tale, which is unfinished, ner. 

Spouted by my bro Pete and Myself

 

Eris, entranced, spake to an overly large hippopotamus while succulently sipping upon apple juice.

"…so then he says to me, ‘Don’t bet on the frogs, sonny, or you’ll get left in the shithouse,’" hysterically flapping in the pool.

"Yeah, the frogs are a killer."

"I hear they’re coming back tomorrow."

Eris preminesced about her 8401st day. It was just a smidgen of a twinkie’s radioactive half life away. She had nothing to do ‘cause she was snubbed again, those bastards. Always on her birthday. If it wasn’t for herself, she wouldn’t have anyone to surprise her with presents.

Eris left the coffee shop in search of more golden horizons. She was bummed, she wanted to visit the great stem for her birthday, but it was all the way on the other side of the apple, and hippo was the only one with a car, and that probably didn’t even have gas. She walked to the used unicycle lot in the omnicycle mall, and saw a real hummer. He was tall and gangly, and was humming like no other hummer had previously hummed, he had no nose. He was pointing and waving signs at unicycles and deaf folk and humming all the while.

Eris chose a tall one, 256". A hootdinger.

She rode it to the unicycle park to scope out some other nifty looking hootdingers. There they were, right before her eyes, wielding axes and Pomeranians. There they were, behind her and to the left a little, more of them, throwing people 17’ into the air. She pulled an apple out of her pocket, weighed it, and let it fly. It was just like Kennedy. Except these Secret Service Agents begin a-pickin’ and a-grabin’, and a-huckin’ and a-throwin’ each other 17’ into the air.

 

Presidents, Persistent Problems and Preposterous Pomeranians

Eris put the gun back in the giant candy cane, boy is this kid going to be surprised. As she began clearing away from the knoll, her L.D.D. fingernail transmitter transmitted, "Sally just bought herself a new pair of shoes."

"Alright, come on home."

"The chickens are really singing tonight."

"They sure are Charlie. They suuuuuuuuuure are."

[chickens sing, "It’s a good feeling to know you’re alive! Such a happy feeling…"]

She sat down next to a small tree, just a sapling, on the edge of the knoll. She leans against it(she being a Pomeranian from the park and it being Lyric). Clearing a book from her lap, she picks it up(she and it being each other now) and sets her in its place. "Fancy meeting you in a place like this, you cutesy."

"Why, honey? This is where we always meet."

Lyric rises to meet Eris.

"We have a problem," Eris started one of her over dramatized worry fits.

"Isn’t that what you just took care of?"

"No, that was a President, this is a problem, and that is a Pomeranian. Speaking of which, why did you feel we needed a new duster?"

"A new duster," Lyric repeated "to replace our old duster which no longer has the ability to remove dust. Shouldn’t it be called a deduster? Or an undustifier? But, what other reason is better? So what was it about these troublesome Pomeranians?"

"No, problem. You see, my birthday’s just a smidgen of a twinkie’s half life away, and I lost my unicycle at the park."

"Is that a hint?"

["TO KNOW YOU’RE ALIVE! AND THEN YOU WAKE UP READY TO SAY I’M GONNA…"]

"How many times do I have to say this, it’s a problem, not a hint, or a doorknob or even one of those damn chickens. P-R-O-B-L-E-M, find out what it means to me."

"Sock it to me."

 

The Socking

"We was just sittin’ there at the doorstep of the messiah, you know, Johnny, when I understood what I was to do in life, you know, why I was put here. To make the best apple tart ever!"

"I think I might be able to help you with that."

"You know someone with a recipe? It’s supposed to be one of the most well-guarded secrets of the 23rd century."

"Yeah, somethin’ like that."

"Well, anyway, Johnny came outside, donned his weatherworn hat, grabbed his pail and went to the sowing club he attended every Thursday. He called behind him as he left, ‘It’s hung from the top of the stem, sweetie.’"

"So, what’s the problem, baby, just go to the stem, get the recipe, and make the tart."

 

Twentythrillapede

Eris spent the next five years traveling north, on her ass. Many miles and plenty of jeans later she reached the foot of the Lumpy Mountains, which lies several hops, skips and jumps away from the alleged location of the Stem. Maybe many severals, who knew? No one had actually seen the Stem, as it is surrounded by a great ocean. It was rumored that the stem loomed miles high at the exact center of Lake Bath. It gained its name by being the only body of water on the apple, and subsequently the only place for a bath. The water had kind of a greenish tint to it, and was the main source of new species on the apple.

These thoughts hurled themselves at her attention. Thus distracted she failed to notice her foot slipping under a fuzzy rope, sort of like the kind they use to tie clowns to Pitbulls.

"Watch where you’re walking, bitch," the nearby thicket grumbled. Eris backed up a step and watched the fuzzy rope pretend it was a thicket.

All of a sudden the thicket exploded, and out dashed the roundest bug she’d seen prior. Round it was, and twenty three feet. (The 24th was probably blown off in the blast, as best I can reckon.) "Hurry, they’ve found me, off at once!" the bug exclaimed as it pulled her along by the arm.

The flight that followed wound them along a faint forest path. After countless stumbles and scrapes, it stopped, to pull the moss away from a large rock a few feet off the path. The queer thing motioned inside.

"No! Not until you explain yourself, you…"

"No time, no time, here soon! Must to the inside!"

Eris stepped into a well lit crowded room, a couch, a desk, and a small hole decorated it. The couch, Eris used right away after the run through the woods. "Tilly."

"What?"

"Tilly. My name is Tilly." Eris took a good look at this Tilly for the first time.

"You sure look like a Tilly."

"Of course I look like a Tilly, it wouldn’t do any good to look like a you."

"Or a deer for that matter."

"Now, you are one of those."

 

Two Greeks and a Fist-full of Grain

"Every twenty aeons the wheel makes a revolution. The Spoke of The Big Bellied Monkey has past us, flown by and said ‘goodnight my fellow breakfast, may I buy you again!’ In the mourning of its passing we await the return of The Spoke of the Skinny Legged Grummet is upon us! And it sure has been a while ya know."

"Oh God, he’s rambling again." Drake slouches down even further into his lavish chair (he was the Head of Oppression Operations doncha know) and slips just as much more into his daydream.

"…and the reflector does reflect to me that it is indeed our job to bring about this change. I only need pi more cents and the last box of Chunky Dunky Frisky Poofs Cereal was eaten this afternoon, we are almost there folks!!! Ding ding!!! Unbuckle your seat belts and break dance in the aisle, we are going in for a landing!!! Woo-hoo!!!!! Woo-fuckin-hoo!!!!!" Throwing both hands violently into the air to emphasize the final ‘hoo,’ Alawishus watches them with a well-practiced smile soar high above a field a cheering and hooting organisms. That really is the only word to describe them because so many of them are so diverse that would just be like to compare the differences of apples and oranges when each adds up to no more than what is left beforehand.

"Great speech, Crusty Aly," Julius says. He was feeling a little orange this afternoon. What he should have been doing was flying the ship, as he was the helmsman.

The ship crashed into an organism that read, "Almost two and a half organs and a limping leopard is worth a skin transplant." It never read that again, the closest it ever got was mumbling something about skiing. The rest of them stopped isming and bolted.

The door of Tangerine Five opened, and Alawishus stepped into the empty clearing. "All clear, Drake."

Drake poked his head out of the hatch. He did this only for a second before he retreated further into the ship. Hitting the intercom button Drake screamed, "You idiot! We’re surrounded! Get inside, seal the hatch, raise the shields!"

 

Left Handed Pat H.

"Something to drink?" Tilly offered.

"How about an explanation on the rocks."

Bandaging his leg, Tilly gave his story. "I guess I do owe you that. On the other side of the Apple, at the base of the Korish Foothills, there’s a city called Redel Ish. It was there that I first uncovered a wretched plot to rot the Apple! The grower of this bad apple is named Drake, and he pays taxes in the Mushy Marsh District.

(The Marsh was formed when the Noisy Bafoons held the largest concert in history. Everyone had a roaring time mushing and dancing, but when they were done, the apple had turned soft and brown. After that gatherings with a density of more than 1 person per 5 square feet were outlawed.)

"Drake has always hated the apple. As a child his mother, Patricia, and his father Wyr-Mel, were always telling him what to do. ‘Clean your room, don’t kick the dog, stop disecting the neighbors’. At the age of 17 Drake made his parents some stew, and had dinner with them for the next week. He never has missed them."

"You drug me through the woods to hear a history lesson about some guy who’s afraid of trees?"

Tilly eyes Eris cautiously. One never knew who one could really trust. "What do you know about Drake? Who is your contact?"

"Contact? What are you talking about? It says he’s afraid of trees right there."

 

Two Stepping

Drake was deathly afraid of trees. If it had a trunk, was more than 4 feet high, and didn’t look like an Elephant, chances are he would try to kill it and run away simultaneously. This usually caused the trees to stay where they were, and grow with just a little bit more effort.

"Surrounded by what?" Aliwishus said looking over at Drake.

"Fire at will, Julius!" blared through the intercom, "Get us out of here!"

Julius looked over at Drake. "Fire at what, sir?" and tried to rev the engines. They squealed a little and with a final burp they deflated. "Engines are all dried up, bring out the spares!"

"Kill them!" was the only intelligent sound that came from the burbling man in the chair.

"The spare engines were left at port, he Oppressed them right out the cargo hatch."

A little while later Drake regained conciousness. "Are they…Are we still under attack?"

"Yeah, it’s over. They ran like cowards." Julius improvised.

Drakes face melted into astonishment. The words, "They…ran?" slowly flopped out of his mouth.

"Yep, half way to the holy mines by now."

So overjoyed was Drake that he flew out of his chair and danced two jigs at once right out the hatch. (quite a feet, you know.) Drake didn’t even realize that he was quite a distance from the ship, until he realized that he was also quite a little distance from a growth. So distressed he was that he immediately wet himself and passed out.

 

More than a Fresh Breath of Air

"The stem, eh? Quite ambitious for a little girl like you." Tilly very nearly lost another leg.

"Do you know a way?"

"I know a way. Not to the stem, but I know a way. The stem lies north, though, to my knowledge. That’s what they say."

"I need to get to the stem, it’s been a time." Eris stood up to walk out.

"Wait! Can…can I go with you? I would dearly love to see the stem. And I think the stem has something to do with Drake’s plot." It really didn’t, but Tilly wanted to try for a piece of ass.

They started walking, and after a few minutes Eris asked, "Which way is north?"

"That way," Tilly answered pointing in the direction they were walking.

"Oh."

Just then something bit off one of Tilly’s legs. "What the hell was that?" Rather quickly ‘that’ breathed on him. A smile spread across his face, and Tilly soon forgot his missing leg. Ever after convinced that he must have misplaced it.

After breathing on Eris the Dank-beast mingled itself with the two, and they never noticed a change, just assumed he’d always been there. I suppose you’d like to know what the Dank-beast looks like, well it’s…umm. It has…err. E Q W… Yeah.

Aliwishus and Julius began carrying Drake through the woods, towards the nearest village. It was dark, very dark, except for the near full moon, which made it just mildly dark. Unless they closed their eyes, in which case…very dark. Julius sighted a clearing ahead and decided it looked rather inviting. They both took a rest on the unprotesting (as a result of unconsciousness) Drake.

"Mmmmrph."

"What, Julius?"

"I didn’t nuthin.."

"Mmmmmmmrph!!!!!!"

"I think your pager is going off."

"I don’t have a pager, Aly."

"Mmmrph oo uffmm mssol!!!!!"

Aliwishus hastily removed himself from Drake’s face. Julius fell off. This wasn’t intentional. As Drake regained his sight, he noticed the cellular forms near him, and instinctively jumped into a crouch. "en-way er-way e-way aken-tay?"

"I think he’s coming down with something." Julius said as he gained his feet.

"I don’t think it’s a glimmer of intelligence."

"We’re under attack you fools!" Drake shouts as he hucks everything around him at the trees, "Quit slacking and man your guns! Draw your swords! Evacuate the vicinity! Fire at will! Charge! Withdraw! Withdraw! Pull up fla—"

"Unk," the branch muttered as it impacted with Drake’s skull.

After a moment of bewildered silence, it was broken by, "Thanks."

"Wouldn’t you know it, he keeps on doing that," Aly mused.

"I daresay, I wish he’d quit barking on."

"This behavior is needling away at my nerves."

"Maybe he should spruce up his attitude."

"Yeah, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"I hope his behavior doesn’t branch out and make us all weird."

"That’s going out on a limb, he probably just has an animosity towards tall woody plants."

"Extreme xylemfloraphobia."

"So, what are we going to do with whats-his-neem?"

"Well, lets put a bag over his head and keep going."

"Righto."

"I’m tired and sick," Eris hysteron proteroned.

"Of what?"

"Uh, somethin. I’m trying to remember."

 

 

 

Main     Body Pieces    Jewelry    Mini Armor     Miscellaneous   Chains     Fabrics    Instructions for weaves

Blather    Grazing    Poetry     My Head     Credits    Links    Books     Music

Never whistle while you're pissing