Post by vaconcovat on Aug 6, 2009 2:02:41 GMT -5
A random story me and my friend wrote in primary school, quite some time ago.
im typing up the rest soon....
THE INTERNATIONAL RULES OF HOCKEY
CHAPTER 1:
THE EQUIPTMENT
There once lived a boy aged 14 with the unfortunate name of Scrapple. At this particular moment, Scrapple was woken up by the sound of Racehorse Jimmy shouting, “I want to see the manager!” Racehorse jimmy has no particular importance in this story, but we need something to wake Scrapple up. Scrapple works at an eyeglass factory, his job is an eyeglass tester. He picks random people off the street, gives them eyeglasses, tells them to run, and points them in the direction of a brick wall. The eyeglasses have an 80% failure rate, and a 19% kill rate. Today, Tuesday, Scrapple has the day off. He has decided to travel to THE BEACH. This beach is the last beach in existence; all the others were killed by hunters. So Scrapple sets off to catch the ‘Fused Tram’ A Fused Tram works by inserting the longitude and latitude of your destination into the computer. The computer then works out which direction to launch you, a fuse then gets lit at the back of the tram, leading to an assortment of explosives in the middle. (Mainly cheap Chinese illegal fireworks.) The blast hopefully sends the passengers in the right direction. Unfortunately for Scrapple, it did not. It launched Scrapple 3.1415926 miles away from the beach, 3.1415926 happens to be pi, and the last thing scrapple ate for breakfast was 3.14% of a cranberry pie. He landed on the last living hunter; all the others were killed by beaches.
“E” said the hunter.
“Yeeesss... oh-no!” Said Scrapple, worried. ‘I am so doomed’ He thought. ‘This guy better not sue me’
“F” Said the hunter.
“Who ARE you?” Asked scrapple
“G”
“Are you mentally ill?”
“H”
‘Okay... I’ve gotta mug this guy’ Thought scrapple.
Although Scrapple is not a violent person, had had the strange and unexplainable urge to mug the poor, mentally disabled hunter.
“I” groaned the hunter as he turned a sickly shade of green and made a vomit fountain into the air. “EWWWW!” yelled Scrapple, in disgust. Suddenly, a tootikan mutated out of the vomit fountain. (Tootikans are a small, pale yellow, fluffy ball, 6 inches in diameter. They have been seen mutating out of vomit. They can fly, speak English and carry 8 times their weight.) The tootikan picked up Scrapple, and started to fly him away. On his flight, Scrapple convinced the tootikan that deadly snakes bite on Thursdays only. Two days passed, and a deadly snake jumped up and bit the tootikan, causing it to drop Scrapple. “AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!... OOPH!” He landed in an abandoned volcano, fell into the subsystems and rolled the remainder of the distance to the underground passageways of THE BEACH. He was suddenly stopped by the means of a foot, planted in his face. Scrapple pushed his sore face to look at his helper. At first look, scrapple thought he was the famous singer, Elvis Presley, but... he was someone ELSE!
<END CHAPTER>
CHAPTER 2:
THE TEAMS OF HOCKEY
Elvis Presley was the king of rock+roll, and with royalty comes people who either really want to KILL you, or BE you. Or both. This guy wasn’t either, and when introduced his name was strangely familiar. His dark was gelled up with something that smelled strongly of salami and elbow grease, contrasting with his white leather rock suit.
“Who are you?” Asked Scrapple, weakly.
“I” he said proudly, “Am a direct descendant of Elvis Presley, and my name is... ELVIS PARSELEY!”
Scrapple began laughing; “HAHAHAHAHAH... HAHAHAHAHA... HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Yeah right!”
“What... but... it’s true... I think” Mumbled Elvis. Elvis Parseley now lives in an underground sand-castle. At first it was a beachside chocolate castle, but one gloomy day the beach was hungry and ate all the chocolate. We are still not sure how he gets electricity into his castle. “And I’m Tom Cruise” said a distant voice. Scrapple ventured into a hallway, trying to follow Elvis. He passed many blank pictures, framed and hung up on the wall. He also saw one picture that was of a person holding an alarm clock. It was quite disturbing for Scrapple, because the man had no face. Suddenly, a hand reached out from the wall, covered in sand and grabbed Scrapple, pulling him into the wall. “Welcome to my lair!” said a voice. Then, Elvis appeared from the shadows wearing a nuclear protection suit and a walkie-talkie. “*** its cold, *** and dark, *** and... OH MY GOSH! *** what was that? *** It’s some sort of life form!!! *** AAARRRGGGHHH!!! *** ... ***” Came from Elvis’ walkie-talkie. Suddenly, a man stumbled out of the cupboard, covered in tomatoes and bananas, holding a walkie-talkie. “Don’t...Go...In there” said the man, falling over and dying. His body disturbingly started decaying rapidly, in 10 seconds all that was left was a pile of dust. “Oh, forgot about him” muttered Elvis.
“Right” replied Scrapple, disturbed.
<END CHAPTER>
CHAPTER 3:
THE PLAYING FIELD OF HOCKEY
All in all, Elvis’ lair was quite amusing, but strange. Actually, it crossed the borders of strange. Most things were explainable, (like the random assortments of gadgets and gizmos that look like they came from a science lab.) but the one thing that wasn’t was the strong smell of urine in ‘Scrapple’s’ room. “Uhhh... slight accident... in that room.” Elvis said, evasively. “Anyway... nice weather, hey?!”
“How the HELL would you know?” said Scrapple, with an evil look in his eye. “You’re buried 10 miles underground!”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right...” replied Elvis. “Anyway I thought you would like some lunch.”
“Is it edible?”
“I like to think it is.”
That doesn’t sound good...
They walked to the fridge, opened it, and went in. Inside there was a room, with a table covered with a feast. Not having eaten since Tuesday, Scrapple ran and dived towards the feast. Before he could finish his plummet towards the wonderful feast, Elvis pressed a button on the wall. ‘BING’ Suddenly, the feast lost all its colour, went grey, and sludged all over the table. Scrapple continued towards ‘the feast’. “Eat up!” grinned Elvis, shoving handfuls of sludge into his mouth. Scrapple vomited in disgust, when the vomit touched the sludge, it seemed to just dissolve into it. He vomited again, this time a tootikan mutated from the vomit and slurped up all the sludge. It seemed as though the tootikan ate too much, and exploded. “Shame” said Elvis, “it was cute.” At this point, Scrapple had disappeared. He was buried 5 inches underneath tootikan remains and sludge.
<END CHAPTER >
CHAPTER 4:
THE RULES OF HOCKEY
“This isn’t working” groaned Scrapple, standing under a “virtual shower”. “Don’t be ridiculous” snorted Elvis, “It works perfect!”
“Dude, it’s a hologram.” Retorted Scrapple flatly. Elvis finally agreed and flicked the switch on the wall. The water that was falling through Scrapple flickered, and disappeared. “Do you have any REAL water” asked Scrapple,
“Sure” Elvis replied, pulling a lever on the wall causing sand-mud to fall all over Scrapple.
“But it’s a bit sandy” Said Elvis, nervously.
“YOU THINK?” Yelled Scrapple, bits of sand flying out of his mouth
CHAPTER 1:
THE EQUIPTMENT
There once lived a boy aged 14 with the unfortunate name of Scrapple. At this particular moment, Scrapple was woken up by the sound of Racehorse Jimmy shouting, “I want to see the manager!” Racehorse jimmy has no particular importance in this story, but we need something to wake Scrapple up. Scrapple works at an eyeglass factory, his job is an eyeglass tester. He picks random people off the street, gives them eyeglasses, tells them to run, and points them in the direction of a brick wall. The eyeglasses have an 80% failure rate, and a 19% kill rate. Today, Tuesday, Scrapple has the day off. He has decided to travel to THE BEACH. This beach is the last beach in existence; all the others were killed by hunters. So Scrapple sets off to catch the ‘Fused Tram’ A Fused Tram works by inserting the longitude and latitude of your destination into the computer. The computer then works out which direction to launch you, a fuse then gets lit at the back of the tram, leading to an assortment of explosives in the middle. (Mainly cheap Chinese illegal fireworks.) The blast hopefully sends the passengers in the right direction. Unfortunately for Scrapple, it did not. It launched Scrapple 3.1415926 miles away from the beach, 3.1415926 happens to be pi, and the last thing scrapple ate for breakfast was 3.14% of a cranberry pie. He landed on the last living hunter; all the others were killed by beaches.
“E” said the hunter.
“Yeeesss... oh-no!” Said Scrapple, worried. ‘I am so doomed’ He thought. ‘This guy better not sue me’
“F” Said the hunter.
“Who ARE you?” Asked scrapple
“G”
“Are you mentally ill?”
“H”
‘Okay... I’ve gotta mug this guy’ Thought scrapple.
Although Scrapple is not a violent person, had had the strange and unexplainable urge to mug the poor, mentally disabled hunter.
“I” groaned the hunter as he turned a sickly shade of green and made a vomit fountain into the air. “EWWWW!” yelled Scrapple, in disgust. Suddenly, a tootikan mutated out of the vomit fountain. (Tootikans are a small, pale yellow, fluffy ball, 6 inches in diameter. They have been seen mutating out of vomit. They can fly, speak English and carry 8 times their weight.) The tootikan picked up Scrapple, and started to fly him away. On his flight, Scrapple convinced the tootikan that deadly snakes bite on Thursdays only. Two days passed, and a deadly snake jumped up and bit the tootikan, causing it to drop Scrapple. “AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!... OOPH!” He landed in an abandoned volcano, fell into the subsystems and rolled the remainder of the distance to the underground passageways of THE BEACH. He was suddenly stopped by the means of a foot, planted in his face. Scrapple pushed his sore face to look at his helper. At first look, scrapple thought he was the famous singer, Elvis Presley, but... he was someone ELSE!
<END CHAPTER>
CHAPTER 2:
THE TEAMS OF HOCKEY
Elvis Presley was the king of rock+roll, and with royalty comes people who either really want to KILL you, or BE you. Or both. This guy wasn’t either, and when introduced his name was strangely familiar. His dark was gelled up with something that smelled strongly of salami and elbow grease, contrasting with his white leather rock suit.
“Who are you?” Asked Scrapple, weakly.
“I” he said proudly, “Am a direct descendant of Elvis Presley, and my name is... ELVIS PARSELEY!”
Scrapple began laughing; “HAHAHAHAHAH... HAHAHAHAHA... HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Yeah right!”
“What... but... it’s true... I think” Mumbled Elvis. Elvis Parseley now lives in an underground sand-castle. At first it was a beachside chocolate castle, but one gloomy day the beach was hungry and ate all the chocolate. We are still not sure how he gets electricity into his castle. “And I’m Tom Cruise” said a distant voice. Scrapple ventured into a hallway, trying to follow Elvis. He passed many blank pictures, framed and hung up on the wall. He also saw one picture that was of a person holding an alarm clock. It was quite disturbing for Scrapple, because the man had no face. Suddenly, a hand reached out from the wall, covered in sand and grabbed Scrapple, pulling him into the wall. “Welcome to my lair!” said a voice. Then, Elvis appeared from the shadows wearing a nuclear protection suit and a walkie-talkie. “*** its cold, *** and dark, *** and... OH MY GOSH! *** what was that? *** It’s some sort of life form!!! *** AAARRRGGGHHH!!! *** ... ***” Came from Elvis’ walkie-talkie. Suddenly, a man stumbled out of the cupboard, covered in tomatoes and bananas, holding a walkie-talkie. “Don’t...Go...In there” said the man, falling over and dying. His body disturbingly started decaying rapidly, in 10 seconds all that was left was a pile of dust. “Oh, forgot about him” muttered Elvis.
“Right” replied Scrapple, disturbed.
<END CHAPTER>
CHAPTER 3:
THE PLAYING FIELD OF HOCKEY
All in all, Elvis’ lair was quite amusing, but strange. Actually, it crossed the borders of strange. Most things were explainable, (like the random assortments of gadgets and gizmos that look like they came from a science lab.) but the one thing that wasn’t was the strong smell of urine in ‘Scrapple’s’ room. “Uhhh... slight accident... in that room.” Elvis said, evasively. “Anyway... nice weather, hey?!”
“How the HELL would you know?” said Scrapple, with an evil look in his eye. “You’re buried 10 miles underground!”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right...” replied Elvis. “Anyway I thought you would like some lunch.”
“Is it edible?”
“I like to think it is.”
That doesn’t sound good...
They walked to the fridge, opened it, and went in. Inside there was a room, with a table covered with a feast. Not having eaten since Tuesday, Scrapple ran and dived towards the feast. Before he could finish his plummet towards the wonderful feast, Elvis pressed a button on the wall. ‘BING’ Suddenly, the feast lost all its colour, went grey, and sludged all over the table. Scrapple continued towards ‘the feast’. “Eat up!” grinned Elvis, shoving handfuls of sludge into his mouth. Scrapple vomited in disgust, when the vomit touched the sludge, it seemed to just dissolve into it. He vomited again, this time a tootikan mutated from the vomit and slurped up all the sludge. It seemed as though the tootikan ate too much, and exploded. “Shame” said Elvis, “it was cute.” At this point, Scrapple had disappeared. He was buried 5 inches underneath tootikan remains and sludge.
<END CHAPTER >
CHAPTER 4:
THE RULES OF HOCKEY
“This isn’t working” groaned Scrapple, standing under a “virtual shower”. “Don’t be ridiculous” snorted Elvis, “It works perfect!”
“Dude, it’s a hologram.” Retorted Scrapple flatly. Elvis finally agreed and flicked the switch on the wall. The water that was falling through Scrapple flickered, and disappeared. “Do you have any REAL water” asked Scrapple,
“Sure” Elvis replied, pulling a lever on the wall causing sand-mud to fall all over Scrapple.
“But it’s a bit sandy” Said Elvis, nervously.
“YOU THINK?” Yelled Scrapple, bits of sand flying out of his mouth
im typing up the rest soon....
