Tales of the Parodyverse >> View Post
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Post By
HH

In Reply To
Rhiannon

Subj: Short but surreal. Proceed.
Posted: Tue Dec 11, 2007 at 04:12:32 pm EST
Reply Subj: Attack of the Marshmallow Goldfish – a fun follow up to How I Annoyed a Pin Cushion Pirate.
Posted: Mon Dec 10, 2007 at 03:19:05 pm EST (Viewed 371 times)


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Attack of the Marshmallow Goldfish – a fun follow up to How I Annoyed a Pin Cushion Pirate.

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> Other stories by Rhiannon Rose Watson can be found at Rhiannons Stories.
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> Part One: Guzzlers
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>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Who,” my younger brother Matthew, second most-annoying person in the world, asked, “would want to buy a breakfast cereal shaped like a goldfish?”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Someone who doesn’t like goldfish?” suggested my younger sister Millie, first most annoying person in the world.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t be stupid!”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I am not being! You don’t be stupid!”
>     Did I mention Matthew and Millie are eight year old twins? They would be identical twins too only they happen to be different genders. It is only so long until they start another world-war. I was taking them around the supermarket. Poor me.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“YOU SHUT UP!”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“NO! YOU SHUT UP!”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Both of you shut up now!”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“NO! YOU!” That was both of them together, annoying things.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey look!” Matthew races of towards some attractive display he’s seen.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What?!” Millie isn’t about to be left out of staring at whatever it is and sulking when she’s not allowed to buy it. Can an eight year old become in debt?
>     Sighing, I follow in great trepidation as to what Team Colour Clash might have found. Team Colour Clash is my name for the twins most annoying, awful habit where Matthew will only wear certain colour clothing and Millie, copycat supreme, will only wear clothes of certain clothes too; only they’re different certain colours so as to annoy me further, yellow and purple tend to clash with red and brown.
>     The brightly coloured display announced that a Hungry Chocolate Guzzler was only £19.99. Yes, that’s right a Hungry Chocolate Guzzler! The display further explained how the horribly named toy quickly guzzled any chocolate in the area until it was ‘all full’. And my little brother and sister wanted to buy this thing?
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“There’s a display one here,” Matthew announced excitedly, “I’m going to feed it!” He began fishing through his pockets for one of his ‘emergency chocolate bars’.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Me too!” Replied Millie predictably, pulling out one of her emergency chocolate bars.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You too are forever campaigning for more chocolate to eat yourselves,” I puzzled, “Now you’re feeding some quite happily to some stupid toy?” Something didn’t quite fit.
>     Just then Matthew poked some chocolate at the displayed Guzzler. Then I understood.
>     The colour clashed siblings shrieked excitedly as the evil looking thing began to chew frantically through bar after bar of chocolate. Nearby shoppers of all ages gathered closer admiring the thing, as it was the most amazing contraption they had ever seen. I wanted to be sick.
>     Wave after wave of nausea washed over me as the malevolent thing grew in power and energy, I fell to my knees, too weak to stand, shaking uncontrollably.
>     More Guzzlers clawed their way out of the packaging, attracted by the nearness of chocolate and the power of the first. The crowd cried in delight, no longer aware of anything other than the evil Guzzlers, desperately feeding them more and more as if it was the only thing that mattered.
>     We were right next to the chocolate aisle. Soon people where grabbing handfuls of the stuff to shove at the Guzzlers. The shop attendants didn’t mind, they were feeding the things just like everyone else.
>     From how I saw it it was as if the whole world was distorted. A deep black, insubstantial fog seemed to roll round the shop. Crowding people fought to push more and more chocolate at the Guzzlers. The floor seemed to tilt and sway. Aisles moved and spun. The whole world swirled like food colouring in water being stirred restlessly. The mechanical chomping of the Guzzlers sounded like laughing over the chaos.
>     The affects where spreading. Throughout the shop, further. People rushed in wildly, carrying with them what chocolate they could find, not thinking, save to feed the awful things, called by the ever growing power of the Guzzlers.
>     I was trampled underfoot by the pressing crowd. Too weak to move. I could resist the Guzzlers call to feed them, but there at the epicentre I couldn’t even summon the strength to stand.
>     Desperately I searched for something, anything, to make this stop. After what seemed like an eternity I felt it, a shimmering golden strand of potential angry at the Guzzlers and the one who had made them, unable to do anything about it. I set the potential free.
>     Everything was quiet. No-one moved and the nauseating affects of the Guzzlers had stopped.
>     Suddenly too weak to even look to see what had happened I gave up the battle with unconsciousness and collapsed even more.
>     Not far away an interested observer laughed with glee, packed a sandwich in his pocket for later and wandered over to complicate things even further.
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> Part 2: Because every adventure needs a sarcastic garden gnome.
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>     I came back to consciousness slowly at first, then suddenly remembering the details of my becoming unconscious, jerked fully awake in a moment.
> Nothing was moving, within the area of the Guzzlers effects everything had stopped, frozen. Except me.
> This was the first time I actually got a good look at the Guzzlers, they where fat, brown, wrinkled doll-like things, with eyes like a snakes surrounded with a thick band of red. They’re teeth where pointed in a grinning mouth with cracked and shrivelled lips. The arms and legs where shaped like those of a baby but where as wrinkled as the rest of the body and had thick, pointed, claw like nails. A tuft of blackish hair sat on the very tops of their heads, they looked almost as awful as I had sensed they where.
>     The crowd was a tangle of people with amazed, exited and happy expressions struggling to reach chocolate to feed to the Guzzlers or to return to the creatures with some of the stuff, little details sunk into my memory bit by bit. Laughing people at the front shoving chocolate into the Guzzlers mouths. A desperate struggle as some in search of chocolate attempted to gain from those returning and those returning objected. More and more, I could look no more, the sight made me sick.
>     With some difficulty I detangled myself from the crowd that had very nearly tangled me underfoot. Around the corner in the cereal isle was better, there where no people, no Guzzlers, no carpet of chocolate wrappers on the floor. Away from the chaos at the epicentre of the Guzzlers attack I set myself to think.
>     The Guzzlers where corrupted potential, like the Pirate three days ago had been. But as much as these where similar, they where different. The Guzzlers had been hidden. The Pirate had been an open display of evil, I had sensed its nearness in the potential around me. The Guzzlers… The Guzzlers had been carefully concealed, there was no way I could sense them even if had looked for them, and who looks for mind affecting evil in a supermarket anyway? Well this type of mind effecting evil anyway.
>     The Guzzlers where different, but why? Why had whoever who had made the Pirate so openly gone to such lengths to make the Guzzlers a secret? They where made by the same person, I could sense that much.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“If you’re wondering why the Guzzlers were hidden, it’s so you wouldn’t be able to sense them.” I recognised that voice.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Fred.” I turned to face the speaker and was met by a cheeky grin, this was about to become interesting, “You know what’s going on here?”
>     He wasn’t the one behind this. The flavour of what was happening was all wrong, not his fingerprint. But he was obviously more informed on this situation than I was.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Not really, I just spotted something interesting and decided to confuse people further.” To prove his point the gnome pulled two boxes off the shelf and tapping them together set them spinning off like fireworks spilling sparks spiralling after them as they spun off dizzily about the room.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Really?” What he was saying was part truth, but not everything, “You just made a cryptic and knowing comment, was that just complete babble thrown about for a dramatic entrance or where you actually being a tiny bit helpful in your own annoying way?”
>     His silence was the only answer I needed.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“So how about some questions?” I suggested, not sure how long I could push this and trying to keep an eye on the still clumsily flying firework-things, “What are those things? Why are they here? Who made them?” I would have asked more but I had to duck as one of the fireworks bounced off the variety-pack shelf scattering mini cereal packets everywhere and spun straight past my head.
> “Well…” Fred dived frantically as the other home made firework swooped after the other, the fireworks wouldn’t hurt us but it was more or less instinctive to get out of there way, “Well done!”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What!”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You really annoyed people when you stopped that pirate rider. She hadn’t thought that anyone could sense one of her Twistings, let alone stop one. Caused a right amount of fuss you did. She got paranoid about the idea of some powerful opposing force plotting against her. Set all sorts of things in motion to catch any form of group against her out.”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Indeed so little interferer. The Mistress has sent me to stop any who could stand against her or try to do so. I am…” A shiver ran down my spine as the concealed villain exploded out of hiding. Literally exploded.
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> Part 3: The Distracter In Chief (Villain).
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>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Indeed so little interferer. The Mistress has sent me to stop any who could stand against her or try to do so. I am… THE DISTRACTER IN CHIEF!!!!”
>     The stand the Guzzlers had been hidden in shattered into fragments as the Distracter in Chief made his dramatic entrance. He was just under a meter and a half tall and was dressed like a ringmaster at a circus, with one or two differences. Normal ringmasters don’t wear a cabbage pinned to their hat for example.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What does a distracter in chief do exactly?” I couldn’t help but ask, “And why? And…”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Silence! You have crossed the Mistress and delayed the progress of the Pin Cushion Pirate operation. For that reason I have been tasked with bringing great disorder and distractions to the world.”
>     Even as he spoke I was searching the area around me for any Potential I could use.
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“It was known that any who might have the ability to stand in our way would quickly move to stop the unexpected attacks I am putting forth…”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“So that’s why the Guzzlers are here?” I worked out, interrupting the villain, “To distract people?”
>     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nobody expects a world chocolate shortage.” Fred pointed out, “The way those Guzzlers were going they could quite quickly create one. Evil things.”
>      “LISTEN TO ME! As I was saying any who might have the ability to stand in our way would quickly move to stop the unexpected attacks I am putting forth and so walk into a carefully laid trap!”
>     Then the marshmallow goldfish attacked.
>     They broke free of the boxed that held them with fiery bursts of energy, flying straight at me. Their appearances varied amazingly from the ones that seemed to be complete marshmallow only roughly shaped like goldfish to the ones that looked more like goldfish only marshmallow coloured. As they approached the Distracter in Chief laughed.
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> Well now you’ve had your goldfish so I can just call an end to this story can’t I? Or if you really insist, coming next Part 4: the Great Wheelbarrow Race (Now With Added shopping Trolley).
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> Concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2006 reserved by Rhiannon Rose Watson. The right of Rhiannon Rose Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.

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