Re: The Battle Royale S2 [Round 2: Prospect Creek]
10-10-2010, 02:58 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
The Photographer briefly wondered why a giant owl would need a magical cupcake but focused on the task at hand once more. He needed to catch the giant flying fish and gut it fast before the giant owl turned into dust. Without the giant owl and his holy kisses, the land would surely die. He baited his hook with a pie. Pies were delicious.
As soon as he threw the rod into the sky-sea, though, the giant flying fish leapt up and swallowed the bait whole. He also swallowed the Photographer whole as well. The Photographer wished that he had a knife and then realized that he already did.
-------------------------------------
It started raining fish. Sirius was somehow not surprised. It still irritated him to no end, however.
He launched another Angel Sphere dome-ward in hopes that it'll release some anger. It didn't.
"Right," he said, rounding on the other two (who unsubtly backed away a little). "I'm going to go find that moron. It'll at least get me away from this madness. One of you will have to stay here and make sure that thing doesn't...ugh...dream up something silly or potentially destructive or both."
Wardell and Timothy exchanged glances. "That, er, seems a little dangerous," one of them said.
"Well, someone has to do it. And, seeing as I can fly and cover more ground and scope out the area better than you two, not to mention I could blow you into smithereens if you argued with me again, the only thing preventing me from doing so being that I will need...help, I say it makes more sense for me to go looking for that drunk moron."
"Right, sure, okay," the two said a little too quickly. Sirius gave them one last glare before flapping off, dodging falling fish very neatly. A knife nearly blind-sided him, but he knocked it away. Wardell and Timothy watched him disappear into the sky.
"So, uh," Timothy started. "I guess one of us should try helping out the crazy angel...you know...search?"
Wardell glanced at the Photographer again. The TV was still shouting at them for ignoring it. His scarf was still chattering. A salmon landed on his head and slowly slid off. No amount of books would help him ignore this.
"I'll search," they both said at the same time.
"I don't want to say here," Timothy said reproachfully.
"I don't either," Wardell replied just as forcefully.
"Look, one of us has to stay here, else that angel guy might come back and kill both of us as soon as he finds us again."
"If I stay here, I'm pretty sure I'll go insane." Wardell choked his scarf again as it cheerfully chirped, "But Wardell! You already--"
Timothy paused. "Okay. Rock Paper Scissors. Loser has to keep watch over psycho-dreamer here."
Wardell hesitated, unsure of the chances, but agreed.
Their fists came down once. "Rock."
Please, gods, one of you, let me win this.
Twice. "Paper."
I don't want to stay here at all. I'm not about to get stuck in another spontaneous black hole or anything like that. So please help me out pleeaaase.
Thrice. "Scissors."
The god who grants me this request will get a huuuuge sacrifice the next chance I am able, I swear upon whatever stupid name you have. It will be big and a virgin and delicious. Whatever floats your boat. I won't judge.
"Shoot."
Wardell had paper. Timothy, scissors. The thief grinned with relief, unsure whether it was actually a god or just plain luck. Either way, he'd have to find a large sacrifice somewhere along the line. But he'll worry about that later. He turned to leave as Wardell groaned, calling back, "See ya, sucker!"
Wardell sighed, rubbed his face, ignored the consolation of his scarf, resisted the urge to kick the TV, and flumped to the ground. A chair helpfully appeared underneath him, and surprised, he flailed and almost fell over, then glanced at the Photographer, wondering if he should thank him.
He retracted that thought as soon as he felt a large tongue push against his butt. He had never jumped so high in his life. As the chair wobbled towards him, mouth wide open, he kicked it so that it soared down the road. It spontaneously grew wings and glided onto the roof of a nearby building.
Wardell rubbed his forehead again. He glanced at the book in his hand.
-----------------------------------------------------
The inside of the fish was lavishly decorated and there was a feast already prepared inside, sitll warm. The Photographer walked around a little, admiring the room. The floor was bouncy and red and undulated like a trampoline. For whatever reason, he tried jumping on the trampoline, which allowed him to jump high enough to the chandelier. After looking around from the new point of view and seeing that it wasn't all that different, he stepped down to the chairs and sat down at the table. There was a turkey. It stared at him and helpfully pointed out a delicious leg. He ate it. There was a cake. But before he could take a slice, it turned into a pie. It was still delicious though. And then he found the magical cupcake. It was rather pink.
The giant owl that had always been in the giant fish obviously hoo'd its delight at the Photographer's success. The Photographer ate another turkey leg.
----------------------------------------------------
Wardell had confirmed the glass dome to be sturdy and, most importantly, mouth-free, so he had leaned on it while he read. He soon regretted it though as, quite suddenly, the dome started absorbing him like a giant bubble, and before he knew what was happening, he was inside the dome with the Photographer. It was rather cramped.
He banged on the now-solid walls. He shouted. He kicked the door and shouted some more. The scarf tried suggesting something and he told it to shut up. Then he tried to kick the Photographer to wake him up. He cursed and shouted when his foot got stuck and struggled for several minutes to pull it out again. He calmed down and pulled his hair back in agitation, wondering if he would be able to breathe in here or if the dome was actually airtight. He sat down. He told the scarf to shut up again. He hoped that when the Photographer woke up, he would have the courtesy to return his shoe.
The Photographer briefly wondered why a giant owl would need a magical cupcake but focused on the task at hand once more. He needed to catch the giant flying fish and gut it fast before the giant owl turned into dust. Without the giant owl and his holy kisses, the land would surely die. He baited his hook with a pie. Pies were delicious.
As soon as he threw the rod into the sky-sea, though, the giant flying fish leapt up and swallowed the bait whole. He also swallowed the Photographer whole as well. The Photographer wished that he had a knife and then realized that he already did.
-------------------------------------
It started raining fish. Sirius was somehow not surprised. It still irritated him to no end, however.
He launched another Angel Sphere dome-ward in hopes that it'll release some anger. It didn't.
"Right," he said, rounding on the other two (who unsubtly backed away a little). "I'm going to go find that moron. It'll at least get me away from this madness. One of you will have to stay here and make sure that thing doesn't...ugh...dream up something silly or potentially destructive or both."
Wardell and Timothy exchanged glances. "That, er, seems a little dangerous," one of them said.
"Well, someone has to do it. And, seeing as I can fly and cover more ground and scope out the area better than you two, not to mention I could blow you into smithereens if you argued with me again, the only thing preventing me from doing so being that I will need...help, I say it makes more sense for me to go looking for that drunk moron."
"Right, sure, okay," the two said a little too quickly. Sirius gave them one last glare before flapping off, dodging falling fish very neatly. A knife nearly blind-sided him, but he knocked it away. Wardell and Timothy watched him disappear into the sky.
"So, uh," Timothy started. "I guess one of us should try helping out the crazy angel...you know...search?"
Wardell glanced at the Photographer again. The TV was still shouting at them for ignoring it. His scarf was still chattering. A salmon landed on his head and slowly slid off. No amount of books would help him ignore this.
"I'll search," they both said at the same time.
"I don't want to say here," Timothy said reproachfully.
"I don't either," Wardell replied just as forcefully.
"Look, one of us has to stay here, else that angel guy might come back and kill both of us as soon as he finds us again."
"If I stay here, I'm pretty sure I'll go insane." Wardell choked his scarf again as it cheerfully chirped, "But Wardell! You already--"
Timothy paused. "Okay. Rock Paper Scissors. Loser has to keep watch over psycho-dreamer here."
Wardell hesitated, unsure of the chances, but agreed.
Their fists came down once. "Rock."
Please, gods, one of you, let me win this.
Twice. "Paper."
I don't want to stay here at all. I'm not about to get stuck in another spontaneous black hole or anything like that. So please help me out pleeaaase.
Thrice. "Scissors."
The god who grants me this request will get a huuuuge sacrifice the next chance I am able, I swear upon whatever stupid name you have. It will be big and a virgin and delicious. Whatever floats your boat. I won't judge.
"Shoot."
Wardell had paper. Timothy, scissors. The thief grinned with relief, unsure whether it was actually a god or just plain luck. Either way, he'd have to find a large sacrifice somewhere along the line. But he'll worry about that later. He turned to leave as Wardell groaned, calling back, "See ya, sucker!"
Wardell sighed, rubbed his face, ignored the consolation of his scarf, resisted the urge to kick the TV, and flumped to the ground. A chair helpfully appeared underneath him, and surprised, he flailed and almost fell over, then glanced at the Photographer, wondering if he should thank him.
He retracted that thought as soon as he felt a large tongue push against his butt. He had never jumped so high in his life. As the chair wobbled towards him, mouth wide open, he kicked it so that it soared down the road. It spontaneously grew wings and glided onto the roof of a nearby building.
Wardell rubbed his forehead again. He glanced at the book in his hand.
-----------------------------------------------------
The inside of the fish was lavishly decorated and there was a feast already prepared inside, sitll warm. The Photographer walked around a little, admiring the room. The floor was bouncy and red and undulated like a trampoline. For whatever reason, he tried jumping on the trampoline, which allowed him to jump high enough to the chandelier. After looking around from the new point of view and seeing that it wasn't all that different, he stepped down to the chairs and sat down at the table. There was a turkey. It stared at him and helpfully pointed out a delicious leg. He ate it. There was a cake. But before he could take a slice, it turned into a pie. It was still delicious though. And then he found the magical cupcake. It was rather pink.
The giant owl that had always been in the giant fish obviously hoo'd its delight at the Photographer's success. The Photographer ate another turkey leg.
----------------------------------------------------
Wardell had confirmed the glass dome to be sturdy and, most importantly, mouth-free, so he had leaned on it while he read. He soon regretted it though as, quite suddenly, the dome started absorbing him like a giant bubble, and before he knew what was happening, he was inside the dome with the Photographer. It was rather cramped.
He banged on the now-solid walls. He shouted. He kicked the door and shouted some more. The scarf tried suggesting something and he told it to shut up. Then he tried to kick the Photographer to wake him up. He cursed and shouted when his foot got stuck and struggled for several minutes to pull it out again. He calmed down and pulled his hair back in agitation, wondering if he would be able to breathe in here or if the dome was actually airtight. He sat down. He told the scarf to shut up again. He hoped that when the Photographer woke up, he would have the courtesy to return his shoe.