I'm just doing this for poops and giggles. I hope you all enjoy the read.
"You all quiet down, now! You disrespectful little schnitzel sticks, respect your god blessed elders! Hush up. I'm talking to you, person who's reading me written in a story. Fourth wall my left foot. I'm gonna break so many walls, it'll be like Berlin all over again, just without the crotchety president and the oppressive government. Or was it downtrodden hippies? Whatever.Yewie. The world that this takes place on. A world where anything goes, and everything doesn't. Where is it located? Put your grubby little hands down, I'll get to it! Most of you unsatisfactory chits think it might take place on Middle Earth. That's a popular fantasy location for your generation AND mine. Look at that. Blowing your mind already. But it's a bunch of hooey! Middle Earth, indeed. Another world below the crust of our planet where elves and dwarves frolic in little daisies and bask in rainbow glitter dust? Bah! No sir! This takes place on a world above our own.Stop looking into space, that's ... Titan! You be quiet now, I saw you pinch Firox, don't pretend you didn't! Gods save me. This take place in a location called Upper Earth. It's a plane of existence that involves a bunch of quantum physics and multiverse and lenses and computer simulated reality like the Matrix. At least I think those are the conspiracy theories that are popular.Where was I? Yes! Upper Earth. You know how your vidja grame characters do double jumps in midair and you think it's totally not possible? Well it is! They use the world of Upper Earth to jump off of a second time. There, see? Much more believable. Because I said so, Nutmeg! That's why!The story you're about to hear took place many ages ago tomorrow. This is the story of Matthew the Rattled.Pause for dramatic effect ... spread hands ... annnnnd faaaaade ooooooout ...Matthew the Rattled was born a normal animal, like you or me. His parents were not one fish, but two fish. One was red, and the other was blue. Matthew, however, was a fox. Don't ask how it's possible, nobody is entirely sure. That's just the way it happens. Something about zygotes and mutations and gods will. This is my story, so you're just going to have to deal with it. The problem with the child is that he was born in a moving stream, and streams that move tend to have rocks that don't. The very day of his conception and birth, because I want them both to happen and I think it will be funny, Matthew floated downstream at ten clips faster than the water was moving. His mass was greater than the water or something, I don't know.
Anyway, the child banged his head good and hard against a rock. See, the rocks had been playing a game of 'Move in the way of oncoming detritus.' Now, we all know Matt wasn't detritus, but try telling that to a thick brained rock! After this tragic incident, his parents (who knew math quite well. You'd be surprised - Fish are incredibly adept at matthewmatics. See what I did there? Matthew ... mat ... shut up and listen!) picked him up. Since they knew that the laws of the universe stated that two wrongs make a right, they swung that little fox as hard as they could into another rock, braining him again.
When the child awoke, his brain was relatively back to normal. Because that's how it works. Only one thought was still askew in the child's mind - He believed that all things cute and fuzzy were out to destroy the world. It was then that he decided to become a knight in tarnished armor! Who ever heard of a night in shining armor? Why would it be shining, I mean that seems like a pretty useless knight. What, he never got in a battle? Who wants an unseasoned knight? Maybe Lowry. Or does Lowry like seasoning?
Where was I? That's right. The child grew up, quick as the Dickens - which is another term I don't understand. Was Dickens quick? What is a Dickens? Are we talking about the author Charles Dickens? I hear he made up stories quick, fast, and in a hurry. Advance to his adult years, and Matthew has become the Tarnished Knight, as he had hoped!
His trail of cute creature vengeance was long and bloody, and he had more than a few scars from his battles with house cats, field mice, and the occasional drinking game with dragons. I said cute and fluffy, not scary and scaly. Keep your story straight and stop going off course. It was, then, that he came to a field. He stood on a hillock, looking down upon a majestic onehornahorse. No, it's not a unicorn! Those don't exist! The onehornahorse, however, is very real. It's a horse with one horn. Hell, let's make it sharp. It's a horse with a sword on its head! That's right. How epic is that? Didn't think old men had cool things to put in stories, well chew on that, pups!
"You!" Matthew shouted, making the onehornahorse look up abruptly with ... I don't know. String beans hanging from its mouth. Horses eat that garbage, right? "I will abide your presence in this field that is not owned by anyone no longer!"
The onehornahorse laughed, since horses have vocal cords that allow that kind of thing. "You would stop me? I am doing nothing terrible, only ridding the world of a few disgusting vegetables." Matthew drew his sword, slicing it through the air to sharpen it. Physics, children! Physics! "Why wouldst thou kill me?" See, onehornahorses are british or some other weird nationality.
"I have traveled long and found out that you are the head spokeshorse for the Gathering of Diabolical Cuteness. You shall answer for your crimes against furmanity!"
"But good sir. A horse is but a horse, of course."
"Of course! Unless that horse is ..."
The onehornahorse stood, swiping its sword head back and forth, now enraged. The rattled one knew his name! "Mr. Ed!" the horse screamed in a battle cry and came at Matthew. Matthew side stepped and brought his sword around, slicing the things jugular good and deep. I'm not going to give you a whole fight scene. They fought for like an hour before that happened. There, is that better?
Rainbow colored blood sprayed just everywhere. All over the place. Except for on Matthew, who dodge it with the swiftness of the wind. Sheathing his sword, he continued into the forest. Shortly into the trek, a squirrel girl - I'm looking at you, Meg - in a red cape came running up to him. "Mr!" She pronounced it M R. Girls are ridiculous. What? What do you mean they're not? I've been married to one my whole life, fresh out of the womb, and I can tell you I don't understand them any more now than I did then! Be quiet!
"Mr!" she repeated herself because she liked to just talk and talk and never be quiet. "You have to help me! There's a wolf chasing me, and I can't get away because while I'm quick, wolves are just too awesome and handsome and swift footed and clever, and everyone should look up to them and appreciate that they exist! Except me, because I'm in this story, and we need me to be chased!"
Unfortunately for her, as Matthew looked her up and down, she was cute. Very cute. And oh, was she ever so fluffy. Promptly, Matt ran his sword through her and spit her over a fire. Because of gravity, time runs differently, and the wolf that had been chasing her was higher up on a small hill. Which means Matthew could do all this in the time it took the wolf to get there. When he did, the wolf broke down crying at the sight of Little Red Squirreling Hood spitted over a barbecue. "Oh, good knight! Thank you so much! That little girl has been positively tormenting me, coming to my house EVERY day to try and sell her accursed squirrel scout cookies. I can't afford to put on weight, for all wolves are sculpted and muscular and supremely attractive. What kind of wolf would I be if I did?"
"It is not a problem, Mr. Vulf." He knew, deep down, that this wolf was German. For all of their other godlike attributes, wolves can sometimes sound very angry even when they're being nice. Hence, German. Just be glad he's not American, because then he'd be fat and useless and pronounce things like 'Merica. How does that even make sense? That's not cool. That makes you sound like an idiot. "If you were rotund from eating too much, you would be a leopard, or a tiger. Maybe a lion. They have no self control, and eat entirely too much. I've heard it's about seventeen times their body weight. Halfway through their lives, they just kind of roll from place to place. Shall we feast?" He gestured to Little Red, and they both ate - but only enough to remain as attractive as a wolf and as swift as a fox. Seriously, wolves are like ... what's the equivalent of an adonis for a wolf? Adonilf? No. That's entirely too close to Adolf. And wolves aren't Adolf - they're good, kind, knowing creatures. Adolf is more relatable to a weasel. Terrible little people, them.
I got distracted again. Where was I? Uhhh. They ate, continued on, split up, other things happened. What was the next big ... oh yes! The Feline Witch and those two stuffy rabbit children, Hanzfluff and Thumple.
((Alright, this is an aside from the admittedly crazy author. I need to take a break, so I'll leave it here for now. Tell me if you're at least enjoying it and I'll write more later tomorrow!
))
Topic: Matthew the Rattled (Read 964 times)