Chapter 3 - Invicible Forces and Weretoasters
Submitted December 1, 2007 Updated December 8, 2007 Status Complete | Uh ohs. It's a lmae attempt at a Christmas From Hell edition! XD Everything (c) me (Amy)
Category:
Fantasy » Misc. Fantasy |
Chapter 3 - Invicible Forces and Weretoasters
Chapter 3 - Invicible Forces and Weretoasters
''What?''
''I dint owt.''
''Ah coulda swore you said summut just then.''
''Here we go..'' I sighed, watching as Mark's mum put a couple of slices of bread into the metallic and yellow toaster.
When she turned her back on it, satisfied that the bread was toasting nicely, a faint crunching sound emenated from that particular corner of the garish little yellow kitchen prompting Mark's dad to look up from his current position from behind the paper and peer through the thick smoke that seemed to be endlessly pouring out of the tip of the near dog-ended fag that was wedged firmly between his fingers, and at his wife, watching with blank curiosity as the Sturgeon like woman peered into the strange toaster.
''What?''
''He's eaten the toast. Again.'' I said scratching my neck thoughtfully.
''Nah. You might be the Grim Reaper-''
''A Reaper.'' I corrected.
''Right. But anyway, I may be dimmer than the average, but I knows that a toaster toasts bread, it don't eat it.'' He said with an aire of triumph as if he'd just found and episode of Crystal Maze being shown on a little known about TV channel.
''It's eaten the bleedin' toast!'' His mum said in dismayed fascination.
''Wait, how did you kno- OW!'' He yelped.
''Touch another pen again, and I'll shove it up your ar-''
''Are you sure? I mean, it is a toa- Oh my god! The sodding thing's alive!''
It yanked it's plug out of the wall, burped, grunted, then bounced - sorry - fell off the side board and scuttled away into the living room as if it were on the trail of something, where it promptly became entangled in the dangerously low hanging tinsel.
''It's alive!?'' Mark exclaimed as he bounded after me and into the living room.
''Yes Doctor Frankenstein, it's alive.'' I grunted unenthusiastically as his parents barralled through us to stand and watch (as you do when something weird and spontaneouse happens) the disgruntled toaster struggling among the tattered tinsel. Then it started sneezing.
''Oh bugger...'' I groaned, knwoing what was going to happen next and took a step back.
''What?''
Him and his parents screamed as a particulary violent sneeze twisted the toaster into a green and yellow Coyote like creature with piercings.
''What is it?'' His mum said in wide eyed terror.
''A Weretoaster?'' GP asked helpfully, then instantly regretted it as a fire poker came into contact with hs head.
''I thought you had a gas fire?'' I asked thoughtfully.
''A Weretoaster?! What the hell?'' Mark squeeked, not quite knowing what to say next.
''Oh yeah..''
His parents took a step back as GP suddenly tilted his head to one side, a grimace of pain on his face replacing the inane grin, as an invicible force grabbed him by the ear like an angry aunt. The invicible force being me.
Meanwhile, struggling in my other, desperately trying to wriggle free like a less than greasy Weasle, was Mark. I knew what he was thinking. His eyes were on a pencil and note pad on the little table near the TV in the corner.
''GP, you got a pub to run and punters to poison. Mark, you should've been in the Sorting Office que ten minutes ago! Veera's gonna have my head on a pike!''
The pair of them groaned like a couple of school kids who've just been slapped with a life time's supply of after schools as the black flames whirled about us, taking us into Limbo, which is where they should be. Apart from GP who should really be at work, scraping the bottom of the inconspicuous barrels that'd been dumped outside his pub...
END!
''I dint owt.''
''Ah coulda swore you said summut just then.''
''Here we go..'' I sighed, watching as Mark's mum put a couple of slices of bread into the metallic and yellow toaster.
When she turned her back on it, satisfied that the bread was toasting nicely, a faint crunching sound emenated from that particular corner of the garish little yellow kitchen prompting Mark's dad to look up from his current position from behind the paper and peer through the thick smoke that seemed to be endlessly pouring out of the tip of the near dog-ended fag that was wedged firmly between his fingers, and at his wife, watching with blank curiosity as the Sturgeon like woman peered into the strange toaster.
''What?''
''He's eaten the toast. Again.'' I said scratching my neck thoughtfully.
''Nah. You might be the Grim Reaper-''
''A Reaper.'' I corrected.
''Right. But anyway, I may be dimmer than the average, but I knows that a toaster toasts bread, it don't eat it.'' He said with an aire of triumph as if he'd just found and episode of Crystal Maze being shown on a little known about TV channel.
''It's eaten the bleedin' toast!'' His mum said in dismayed fascination.
''Wait, how did you kno- OW!'' He yelped.
''Touch another pen again, and I'll shove it up your ar-''
''Are you sure? I mean, it is a toa- Oh my god! The sodding thing's alive!''
It yanked it's plug out of the wall, burped, grunted, then bounced - sorry - fell off the side board and scuttled away into the living room as if it were on the trail of something, where it promptly became entangled in the dangerously low hanging tinsel.
''It's alive!?'' Mark exclaimed as he bounded after me and into the living room.
''Yes Doctor Frankenstein, it's alive.'' I grunted unenthusiastically as his parents barralled through us to stand and watch (as you do when something weird and spontaneouse happens) the disgruntled toaster struggling among the tattered tinsel. Then it started sneezing.
''Oh bugger...'' I groaned, knwoing what was going to happen next and took a step back.
''What?''
Him and his parents screamed as a particulary violent sneeze twisted the toaster into a green and yellow Coyote like creature with piercings.
''What is it?'' His mum said in wide eyed terror.
''A Weretoaster?'' GP asked helpfully, then instantly regretted it as a fire poker came into contact with hs head.
''I thought you had a gas fire?'' I asked thoughtfully.
''A Weretoaster?! What the hell?'' Mark squeeked, not quite knowing what to say next.
''Oh yeah..''
His parents took a step back as GP suddenly tilted his head to one side, a grimace of pain on his face replacing the inane grin, as an invicible force grabbed him by the ear like an angry aunt. The invicible force being me.
Meanwhile, struggling in my other, desperately trying to wriggle free like a less than greasy Weasle, was Mark. I knew what he was thinking. His eyes were on a pencil and note pad on the little table near the TV in the corner.
''GP, you got a pub to run and punters to poison. Mark, you should've been in the Sorting Office que ten minutes ago! Veera's gonna have my head on a pike!''
The pair of them groaned like a couple of school kids who've just been slapped with a life time's supply of after schools as the black flames whirled about us, taking us into Limbo, which is where they should be. Apart from GP who should really be at work, scraping the bottom of the inconspicuous barrels that'd been dumped outside his pub...
END!
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