dhARmaMiLlO
05-11-2004, 04:59 PM
OK, I wrote this when i was a bored teenager in an extremely boring college lecture eleven years ago. I found it on an old floppy disk when i visited my mother's for easter.
It makes me cringe a bit but I also chuckled out loud. Thought, perhaps, someone might find it vaguely amusing.
Now is it about a grumpy, rude and violent postbox or is it about something else?......
HELLO SENTIENT FORM,
I’ve been contemplating your reason for being on this planet. It has occurred to me that, as for the aforesaid or otherwise, I must hitherto conjugate in conjunction with former statements this later empirical formula known to any other person other than anyone as foretold earlier in this paragraph. Why? You ask. Muhahahhaaa. How foolish we seem (we the rhetorical you) when asked to delve betwixt such straightforward conundrums. I, personally, feel that it can be explained or perhaps extrapolated for further understanding in the following prose:
{One understands that we (another rhetorical you)[the same you, just another instance of description of you] may have perused such material in partiality at an earlier date. However partiality must not apply here for the full experience is requested in order that order be obtained ensuing further clarification whereupon enlightenment to my quandary may lead to the aforesaid extrapolated understanding}
Orvil the orange broke down.
"They come for me at night Percy! The men from the moon!
They bang on my window with little silver poles. Poles with heads on. Heads that whistle. They whistle to me. ‘Where shall we sleep tonight darling? In your penguin's grave?"
Percy the purple postbox interrupted quickly;
"Calm down Orvil, just ‘cos you have reality problems doesn't mean you can rant and rave in my face about your latest visitation. So fuck off home."
"I don't have a home!" Squealed Orvil.
"Yes you do, it’s across to the beach, in front of us." Replied Percy, who could feel some sort of temper arising.
"Home is where the juice cells are Mr plinky." said Orvil to some figment of his imagination.
Percy slapped Orvil across the upper zest.
"Wise up dick-head or I'll shoot you."
Orvil bounced away, then bounced back again. He seemed to be looking for something on the ground.
"Have you seen my fluffy ruler?"
"Did you not just hear what I said you foul attessant?"
Orvil looked puzzled for a second.
"It flashes when I clap, but I don't have hands."
Percy snapped. He had to put up with this bastard yesterday. But he couldn't walk away, he was a post-box. A postbox with arms and an arse though.
"Right you fucker. Time to do the chaingun Cha-Cha."
Percy whipped out a gattling gun from his arse and let rip the thousands of hollow tipped bullets into Orvil's soft flesh.
Orvil danced like a puppet whilst spurting out trails of juice from the many bullet holes riddling his round little body. He twitched this way and that being held up by the sheer force of the gunfire as Percy laughed maniacally, his eyes gleaming with joy.
Finally the gun stopped whirring its rain of death upon the convulsionless corpse of Orvil.
"Now that's much better". Said Percy quietly.
***
You wake up, you realise you are a dead orange, but then you think,
I'm not an orange, I’m in a lecture on the ins and outs of something so utterly boring your mind melts into happy people who hate you. A passing cloud eats your boots. The postbox hits you. Eh?
"That's all for this evening" intones a far away voice.
You wake up again. You’re in an empty opalescent blue sphere and your body is made from a curious purple metal. You have no legs and a strange sensation in your buttocks.
Look at the beach, there is an over-head projection system far away,
near the cliffs.
You can wake up and switched it off.
"Got to run to through five fathoms of shit. To see out of the sanity pit." Mutters a silent voice echoing through your eyebrow hairs.
***
Percy was weeping.
The corpse of Orvil was starting to decay. It's hole-ridden zest corrupting before him. It had been a while. The smell was starting to get intense. Almost like..... Cheese. Cheese with lots of holes. Percy had accidentally got some chilly sauce in his eye from the huge Kebab he'd purchased from Reginald the blue Rhino. Well actually it was on credit. Reg hadn't asked about the corpse. He seemed to be rather amused about something.
"Fucking sloppy doner, that bastard rhino isn't going to get a penny out of me. Burning my fucking eyes out." Cursed Percy, rubbing away at his eyes.
"What you say purple chap?"
It was Pencilbend, a curious looking hamster with thick glasses. He was carrying a briefcase. A few sounds could be heard coming from within it.
"What’s in the case ya tart."
Percy didn't like this Hamster; he didn't like a lot of people.
"No need to be rude old chap" replied Pencilbend.
He leaned in close to Percy, wiggling his fat cheeks.
"There is something special in this case. It's too soon to tell anyone."
Percy slammed his doner into the hamster's face.
"Piss off! You're lucky I've run out of ammo."
Pencilbend spluttered in astonishment.
"Good grief! You are thoroughly incorrigible old boy! To think I wasted time talking to you."
He quickly brushed down his blue suit and jogged off towards the beach heading for a cone of light near the cliffs.
"Simpy little runt" muttered Percy. Soon he would have digested enough kebab to shit out more ammo for his gattling gun. Then he'll blast the bastard.
There was a tap on Percy's shoulder, well, where his bionic arm was attached to his body, and a deep booming Swiss accented voice thundered forth.
"PERCIVILLE PURMELTPE."
"Err, yeh?" Replied Percy hesitantly.
A giant Swiss cheese rolled into view casting a dark shadow upon the postbox.
"I'M BACK FOR A LITTLE REVENGE YOU EVIL HARBINGER OF MAIL."
It was Orvil; he had been re-incarnated as a Swiss cheese.
"Listen Orvil, its not my fault you had to be put down."
Percy could feel his gattling gun reloading, just a few more seconds.
"FOOLISH LITTLE CYLINDER. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING, FOR I HAVE POWERS BEYOND YOUR IMAGINATION. THE ALMIGHTY SWISS CHEESE GRANTS YOU.…. DEATH!"
Orvil rolled steadily towards the purple postbox, his giant mass engulfing Percy's horizon.
"Get away from me you fucking sdafsg.x......"
Percy's voice was muffled as the cheese rolled on top of him. Orvil's deep booming laughter travelled for miles around whilst the cylindrical metal body of Percy the postbox was crushed slowly, his arms flailing about until they were twisted and snapped from his torso. A small 'pop' was heard as the gaseous contents of Percy's body escaped from under the mouldy rind of Orvil.
"VENGENCE IS MINE" hissed the holy cheese mountain of destruction.
{now here we must pause for a moment and think. Upon what theorem does one rest one’s metaphysical leaning of the sliding ladder? Well this can be further explored as follows:}
It makes me cringe a bit but I also chuckled out loud. Thought, perhaps, someone might find it vaguely amusing.
Now is it about a grumpy, rude and violent postbox or is it about something else?......
HELLO SENTIENT FORM,
I’ve been contemplating your reason for being on this planet. It has occurred to me that, as for the aforesaid or otherwise, I must hitherto conjugate in conjunction with former statements this later empirical formula known to any other person other than anyone as foretold earlier in this paragraph. Why? You ask. Muhahahhaaa. How foolish we seem (we the rhetorical you) when asked to delve betwixt such straightforward conundrums. I, personally, feel that it can be explained or perhaps extrapolated for further understanding in the following prose:
{One understands that we (another rhetorical you)[the same you, just another instance of description of you] may have perused such material in partiality at an earlier date. However partiality must not apply here for the full experience is requested in order that order be obtained ensuing further clarification whereupon enlightenment to my quandary may lead to the aforesaid extrapolated understanding}
Orvil the orange broke down.
"They come for me at night Percy! The men from the moon!
They bang on my window with little silver poles. Poles with heads on. Heads that whistle. They whistle to me. ‘Where shall we sleep tonight darling? In your penguin's grave?"
Percy the purple postbox interrupted quickly;
"Calm down Orvil, just ‘cos you have reality problems doesn't mean you can rant and rave in my face about your latest visitation. So fuck off home."
"I don't have a home!" Squealed Orvil.
"Yes you do, it’s across to the beach, in front of us." Replied Percy, who could feel some sort of temper arising.
"Home is where the juice cells are Mr plinky." said Orvil to some figment of his imagination.
Percy slapped Orvil across the upper zest.
"Wise up dick-head or I'll shoot you."
Orvil bounced away, then bounced back again. He seemed to be looking for something on the ground.
"Have you seen my fluffy ruler?"
"Did you not just hear what I said you foul attessant?"
Orvil looked puzzled for a second.
"It flashes when I clap, but I don't have hands."
Percy snapped. He had to put up with this bastard yesterday. But he couldn't walk away, he was a post-box. A postbox with arms and an arse though.
"Right you fucker. Time to do the chaingun Cha-Cha."
Percy whipped out a gattling gun from his arse and let rip the thousands of hollow tipped bullets into Orvil's soft flesh.
Orvil danced like a puppet whilst spurting out trails of juice from the many bullet holes riddling his round little body. He twitched this way and that being held up by the sheer force of the gunfire as Percy laughed maniacally, his eyes gleaming with joy.
Finally the gun stopped whirring its rain of death upon the convulsionless corpse of Orvil.
"Now that's much better". Said Percy quietly.
***
You wake up, you realise you are a dead orange, but then you think,
I'm not an orange, I’m in a lecture on the ins and outs of something so utterly boring your mind melts into happy people who hate you. A passing cloud eats your boots. The postbox hits you. Eh?
"That's all for this evening" intones a far away voice.
You wake up again. You’re in an empty opalescent blue sphere and your body is made from a curious purple metal. You have no legs and a strange sensation in your buttocks.
Look at the beach, there is an over-head projection system far away,
near the cliffs.
You can wake up and switched it off.
"Got to run to through five fathoms of shit. To see out of the sanity pit." Mutters a silent voice echoing through your eyebrow hairs.
***
Percy was weeping.
The corpse of Orvil was starting to decay. It's hole-ridden zest corrupting before him. It had been a while. The smell was starting to get intense. Almost like..... Cheese. Cheese with lots of holes. Percy had accidentally got some chilly sauce in his eye from the huge Kebab he'd purchased from Reginald the blue Rhino. Well actually it was on credit. Reg hadn't asked about the corpse. He seemed to be rather amused about something.
"Fucking sloppy doner, that bastard rhino isn't going to get a penny out of me. Burning my fucking eyes out." Cursed Percy, rubbing away at his eyes.
"What you say purple chap?"
It was Pencilbend, a curious looking hamster with thick glasses. He was carrying a briefcase. A few sounds could be heard coming from within it.
"What’s in the case ya tart."
Percy didn't like this Hamster; he didn't like a lot of people.
"No need to be rude old chap" replied Pencilbend.
He leaned in close to Percy, wiggling his fat cheeks.
"There is something special in this case. It's too soon to tell anyone."
Percy slammed his doner into the hamster's face.
"Piss off! You're lucky I've run out of ammo."
Pencilbend spluttered in astonishment.
"Good grief! You are thoroughly incorrigible old boy! To think I wasted time talking to you."
He quickly brushed down his blue suit and jogged off towards the beach heading for a cone of light near the cliffs.
"Simpy little runt" muttered Percy. Soon he would have digested enough kebab to shit out more ammo for his gattling gun. Then he'll blast the bastard.
There was a tap on Percy's shoulder, well, where his bionic arm was attached to his body, and a deep booming Swiss accented voice thundered forth.
"PERCIVILLE PURMELTPE."
"Err, yeh?" Replied Percy hesitantly.
A giant Swiss cheese rolled into view casting a dark shadow upon the postbox.
"I'M BACK FOR A LITTLE REVENGE YOU EVIL HARBINGER OF MAIL."
It was Orvil; he had been re-incarnated as a Swiss cheese.
"Listen Orvil, its not my fault you had to be put down."
Percy could feel his gattling gun reloading, just a few more seconds.
"FOOLISH LITTLE CYLINDER. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING, FOR I HAVE POWERS BEYOND YOUR IMAGINATION. THE ALMIGHTY SWISS CHEESE GRANTS YOU.…. DEATH!"
Orvil rolled steadily towards the purple postbox, his giant mass engulfing Percy's horizon.
"Get away from me you fucking sdafsg.x......"
Percy's voice was muffled as the cheese rolled on top of him. Orvil's deep booming laughter travelled for miles around whilst the cylindrical metal body of Percy the postbox was crushed slowly, his arms flailing about until they were twisted and snapped from his torso. A small 'pop' was heard as the gaseous contents of Percy's body escaped from under the mouldy rind of Orvil.
"VENGENCE IS MINE" hissed the holy cheese mountain of destruction.
{now here we must pause for a moment and think. Upon what theorem does one rest one’s metaphysical leaning of the sliding ladder? Well this can be further explored as follows:}