Extremely Bored Teenage Boy 'Literature'

Discussion in 'U.K.' started by dhARmaMiLlO, May 11, 2004.

  1. dhARmaMiLlO

    dhARmaMiLlO Member

    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:}
     
  2. dhARmaMiLlO

    dhARmaMiLlO Member

    ***

    “Arse”
    Reg noticed the cone of light near the cliffs. However, this is not where his interest lay. He had just witnessed the gruesome death of one of his debtors.
    “Ach well, it was second hand anyway. In fact all things are.”
    He mumbled to himself whilst acknowledging the presence of Pencilbend the approaching hamster.
    A moment passes.
    Pencilbend the now stationary and close-by hamster held his briefcase aloft.
    “Seen this Reg?”
    “I have now.”
    “Woe betide those who do not.”
    Warned Pencilbend and promptly skipped away into a sudden mist shaped like a banana.
    “uhuh….”
    Reg continued talking to himself, something about all things being relative and wondering where the point of origin for the relativity lay.
    He steadily walked towards the cone of light previously noted.
    “REGINALD”
    Boomed a large cheesy voice.
    Reg duly paid attention to the gargantuan cheese rolling towards him and answered.
    “yeh?”
    “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”
    Reg gestured a direction.
    “OH………….. CAN I COME WITH YOU?”
    Reg gestured an affirmative.
    “COOL”
    The incredibly large Swiss cheese that used to be Orvil and the introspective blue rhino that wonders whether he is the centre of the universe if all things are relative were slowly walking to this ever more interesting cone of light near the cliffs when Lo! They were knocked to the ground by a thunderingly loud guitar riff:
    “TWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG”
    Recovering from the reverberations the pair attempted to pin point an origin.
    “The happy people that laugh, they laugh and laugh and dance naked under the moon. Giggling and cavorting, disporting of the crazy loon…”
    The ear poppingly loud voice pushed the air against them, the sand vibrating in concentric circular waveforms, rippling outward from an over-lit stage. Through the blood pooling in his eye-sockets Reg could make out a few figures clad in spandex and ripped t-shirts, their sprayed up hair catching the lights. The voice was Percy; he had come back as a cheesy metal rock band. His demise involving a heavy encounter with cheese and his original form being that of metal had created this crimp-haired monster.
    “Suck on this Orvil!”
    The huge circular form of cheese that used to be Orvil spun upon its rind and faced into the wind created by the twiddly riffs that issued forth from a black and pink sparkly guitar. The cheese mountain’s form undulated and slowly but surely started to break apart. Reg held onto the ground as chunks of cheese flew in a shower of yellow boulders towards the sky, disappearing into the dawn moon.
    “Ok, and now for an encore!”
    Exclaimed some trumped up floozy on the microphone.
    At this moment time slowed down for Reg, for just as he was about to meet his doom at the hands of Hanoi Rocks clones he noticed the banana shaped mist previously ignored by him fly towards the stage. It could have been a Viking ship or a large Cheshire cat grin, would he ever know?
    “Behold the atomic briefcase that will deliver us from evil and usher us toward a new existence as the guardian foretold!”
    The owner of the voice declaring this statement was Pencilbend. The insignificant hamster that now was dangling from a vine wrapped around the mist shape furiously spinning in the combination to his brown leather briefcase.
    The band stared up in wonder pushing back their headbands and pouting their lips as Pencilbend fiddled away.
    “Fuck off hamster”
    Declared a lipstick and sparkly eye shadow visage belonging to the singer.
    Pencilbend’s eyes gleamed as the catches popped open and unleashed a small butterfly with socks on. It fluttered down toward the band, alighting upon a cymbal, scrunched up its insect face and let rip.
    “KAAAAAAAAABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM”
    Instantly the scene vaporised before Reg’s eyes, a blinding white light filled the whole world around him. He felt a searing heat strip away at his flesh. His skin bubbled and tore away from the bone. In turn the bone crumbled to dust leaving nothing but a blue-ish brown spot upon the beach.


    {no stop, no pause, a question is in need of answering.}

    The spot got up and stretched.
    “Ahhhh, another day another nuclear fall-out.”
    Some mist floated over. It smiled.
    “The hamster is no more. A martyr.”
    “Rubbish” Replied the spot that was Reg, ”He was merely an entropy bridge.”
    “Fair enough” Agreed the mist. “Shall we continue?”
    “Indeed”
    The mist and the spot turned their attention toward that ever-nearing cone of light. It seemed just within reach when they were halted by a large wooden sign painted with the letters: THE GUARDIAN.
    “I am the guardian.” Declared the sign. “Thou shalt not pass.”
    The blueish spot raised an eyebrow. A sentient sign? Mmmmmm.
    “Correct that that was Reg, I am”
    The spot squelched back agape. A psychic sentient sign.
    “What of?” Queried the mist that was either a banana or a boat or just a smile.
    “eh?”
    “Guardian of what?”
    “oh, aha, the link.” Replied the sign.
    “Where?”
    The sign pointed to the cone of light.
    “Circular pyramid actually” Corrected the sign as he read their minds.
    “What is it?”
    “A link”
    “Link?”
    “Yes to the curious purple metal think flesh. A vessel for the black fed red rivers that feed the grey walnut. Its asleep at the moment, no-one knows when it will re-awaken.”
    “Uhu, OK.” Chorused the spot and mist.

    {An answer? I think not, merely a ingenious rephrasing of the question within examples created for creation sake that provide a lateral foundation for further perusal.}

    -------------- <-- a line?
    Maybe.
    *(}:cool:#~ <-- a moose with a wooly hat and scarf sporting the latest in sunglasses fashion?

    Perhaps.

    Nevertheless it remains to be seen.

    The remains, do you see them? Do you?
    I do. They are in the future.
    Perhaps we shall debate upon their form?
    See you later in the everuins:universe,

    ME



    <thats it>

    ~
    [​IMG]
     
  3. rainbow dew

    rainbow dew Member

    and i thought you were insane before...;)

    you really do push the boundaries of the mind don't you?? he he *hugs*
    namaste
    x x x
     
  4. EarthWhirler

    EarthWhirler Member

    At which point in your life did you stumble upon hallucinogens? I'm hoping it was before you wrote this ;)
     
  5. dhARmaMiLlO

    dhARmaMiLlO Member

    :eek: you don't need drugs for lateral thought man!!
    They are a shortcut to what we can already achieve.
    I blanch at the comment that i may need drugs to destroy my social ego boundries and inhibitions. At parties I've taken them along with other people just to have permission to be myself.
    I've nothing against people who take drugs (and I'm not haughty-taughty enough to discount myself among them). Its all about abuse I suppose. One can abuse sobriety too! :p
    and, nope, this story was written before I was even passed my first joint.
    Basically, I always say:
    Drugs are a chemical crutch for the mind, use them too much and you can't walk without them....
    As well as:
    Sanity is a relative concept. I'm just out to destroy closed subjectivity so that we can all get a connection. Think I rambled about connection somewhere sometime ago.

    ~
    [​IMG]
     
  6. rainbow dew

    rainbow dew Member

    :) yup insane...completely. but in the best possible way!*hugs*

    you knowi already agree with the whole drugs things. you still up for the mind trip at beautiful days? that is without any help from drugs?
    namaste
    x x x
     
  7. Maon

    Maon Member



    Wheelie Wonderful Wodjer! .. ​
    like I said before .. look forward to many years of delving into your head with an unfesibly large wooden ladle when my thoughts run dry. The whole drugs thing ... You take the thoughts out of my mind and deliver them with such panache .. hehe .. those who think its big and hard remember that to rely on drugs, to abuse them will blind you from yourself. ​
    [​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG]
     

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