Post by Badger on Aug 22, 2007 11:47:48 GMT -5
The Adventures of Piper the Peon
Chapter ii - In ~STICK~ Territory and more!
“GOOO…Badger…GOOO…kill ‘em faster, kill ‘em quicker…make their reinforcements flicker…GOOO…Badger…GOOO…” - Infantry
It was only when he was tied up and lowered menacingly towards a sweltering fire surrounded by thousands of troops with all rifles pointed at him that Vickvire felt the first twinge of fear. There, standing beside him, frowning and cursing, was Border Ickity Ick. He had a bandana around his forehead and a chin of steel. Strong arms, covered in black heart tattoos showed that this man was no one to mess with. His long brown hair fell down in locks as he bent down to taunt Vickvire. Opening his evil mouth he spewed forth verbal poison.
“Yew better watch out, ‘cuz ‘hi aren’t theh only person that wants yer life.”
The shock of the evil leader’s accent struck Vickvire like a pound of molasses. He was a country bumpkin! Vickvire was only able to think for a second before Border’s violent voice rang out again.
“G’hang, this is h’why we update our mission statements with the latest Spie-Wear, or something like this may happen. 'member boys - Mah Coffee is the only Spie-Wear to use. Take an example from this liddle twerp who tried thwartin’ the majesty of the ~Stick~ Commandos. I will crush ‘im like a bug!”
Border raised his foot and made to smash Vickvire’s brain out. Instead, he managed to plow his appendage into the blazing coals, singeing his boots. Scattered laughs arose from the camp as Border sped around the ground, trying desperately to get the burning flakes of fire off his feet.
“I will make yew suffah’ for that, h’idiot! You have messed with the guy who was voted ‘Greatest military mind of the week’…me! Border Ickity-Ick!”
The hairs on Vickvire’s legs rose ten inches in the air. His eyes bulged and his teeth chattered involuntarily. His death was coming soon; he could feel it.
By now, you are probably wondering where Vickvire’s loyal companions are, correcto? Holding their friend’s hand while he undergoes this torture? No. Taking some of the pain for him by interceding on his behalf? No. Dining on succulent roasted pheasant and choice wine? Yes! This is exactly what Innapantry and Piper the Peon were doing. And eating with them were the ~Stick~ Commando divas, Dork_Imaginary and Deviled Egg who were currently admiring Innapantry’s flabby muscles. Needless to say, the stupid cyclops was thoroughly enjoying this treatment. Piper seemed to enjoy the food more than the women.
Dork_Imaginary talked soothingly to Innapantry, “My, what strong muscles you have, such…SHUT UP BILLY! #$^&*$%^@! #$^*(^#!” She yelled at the top of her voice at her young ~Stickling~ that had just rounded the corner and flicked a roasted pea at her. She resumed her calm rubbing of the cyclops shoulder as they all relaxed. A skinny ~Stick Commando~ from the region of Flanada, whose name was Wrecklan, came inside the hut and announced: “Master Piper, the prisoner is about to crack. Our Dark Lord, high commander, divine celibate master of the universe, Border Ickity-Ick wishes to inform you that he is ready for the vial of poison.”
Piper stood up and produced a small bottle filled with a green liquid. Innapantry shook off Dork_Imagery’s arm and jumped up from the recliner, his eyes livid with anger. “You have betrayed us all, Piper! You were with the ~Stick~ Commandos from the beginning!” Piper yawned, “It is of no importance; once my master and I have what we need I will kill you both.” Dork_Imaginary chuckled a low, guttural laugh.
Two hours later…
Vickvire and Innapantry were royally screwed. They were in front of the whole assembly, hanging from trees. Border Ickity-Ick strutted in front of them, holding the vile of poison.
“Now sons,” he said sweetly to them, “this here is whut we ~Stick~ Commandos call El-dubbayoo poison. H’it’s the most dangerous venom in the whole whaorld. It’s made with the el-dubbayoo plant, h’obviously. We get some of k’hat and then stir the plant with some airogance roots and just a touch of mad-skille extract. You will die in less than three seconds.”
Vickvire gulped and quivered, but refused to show any signs of fear.
“But I h’can’t jest letcha all die that easy now, eh? LOL, so we’re going to have a little fun. We’re going to see how long you can stand torture. We’re going to see how long you can last in Hell itself.” Border whistled sharply. “Boys!” he winked mischievously, “Git me the meeting protocol.”
The forest was silent, and the sound of Vickvire’s body fainting to the ground was heard.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
They revived him with some water and assembled a few chairs. Border’s son came over and laughed/drooled in Vickvire’s face. “My daddies going to own you. Ee-dubbayoo’s like you suck.”
Border hushed the child and threw out some orders to his troops. “G’hang, I need one of you to go get me the role-call sheet. Don, wewd you mihnd terribly if you could just get mah role-call sheet? Thank you, Don.”
Don was a younger lad, about 19, with cold eyes and a large mop of brown hair. He originated from the land of Hexico. Don returned momentarily, clumsily carrying a massive scroll nearly five feet long. He set it before Border who now stood in front of the assembly of ~Sticks~. Unfortunately, the class clown, (and consequently, the class retard), Rod-gay, managed to hock up a spitball and fire it into the darker-skinned member, Don. Don winced and shouted aloud in anguish, “Mr. Booooorrrrrder!!! Dat dere Rod-gay juz shotted me wid der shvitball. Tell hem to pleece stop!”
Border’s voice thundered dangerously. “h’I’ll be darned if ya’ll don’t shut the friar up and listen to the darned meetin’!” His request was met with mumbled apologies and a general hushing of the group.
“Now…for the meeting. If ya’ll have any questions, you must say your name first and then state your question. Also, even if it makes no logical sense at all, (since I see ya’ll sittin’ right here visibly in front of me), I’m going to make a role-call soes I ken check who’s here and who’s not here. Let’s start. Rod-gay?”
“Here.”
“Okay…,” Border said as he put a check mark on his role-call card, “Rod-gay’s here. Next…humm…Marylin Monroe? H’is Monroe here?”
A plumpish man raised his hand timidly and spoke in a strong British accent, “Fox.”
Border’s face blushed crimson red, “Goshdangity it, Fox! Keep yer mouth shut unless you ‘ave a queshtun!”
Fox spoke up again, “Sir, I do have a suggestion.”
Border smiled pleasantly, “Oh. Well, we’re always welcome to suggetions. Go ahead Fox. LOL, you should have told me sooner.”
Fox began for the third time. “Well, mates, as ya’ can surely see, most of us have lost our initiative - (Here, Border looked impressed by Fox’s use of grammar. Fox continued) A lot of you have not been attendin’ the daily practices. I mean, why can’t you blokes attend a freakin’ four hour practice? Does that not leave you with enough free time? Does it make you suck at life? If you can’t attend a daily practice for four hours, you have no right to live. And another thing…”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Torture. The word had meant nothing to Vickvire until this evening. His eyes watered and his mouth was parched. Border had been on a rant for the past seven hours.
“…and I can’t believe you all aren’t forking out your hard earned money for…”
“…look, this clan is all yours. If you don’t want it to survive, that’s up to you…”
“…dangit Dork-Imaginary! Please turn down your stupid mic…”
“…and then he called me an “incompetent leader” LOL. Their clan will never last…”
“…I propose that practice be increased to six hours a day…”
Vickvire felt that he couldn’t hold on much longer. Mental Claustrophobia swarmed over him like deltas in mating season. His arms drooped. His facial hair twitched.
And then it hit him - he was unguarded. His mind working like a whirlwind, he took the slip behind a chair when Order turned his back to show the group a new plan of attack. By now, most of the clan was asleep and snoring, but Border did not seem to mind. Only Innapantry was awake, sitting attentively, digesting Border’s every word.
Ah well, sighed Vickvire, Innapantry will have to fend for himself. Vickvire fell prone to the ground and began crawling towards the surrounding foliage. When he was about twenty meters from the ~Stick~ Commando’s camp, he got up and ran for it. He ran for freedom. He ran for life. He ran for the King. He ran until he tripped over a large hole and fell face-first into a pit of mud. “Danged badger’s hole!” He screamed. Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming rapidly towards him.
Silence. And then a sharp chink. He started to moan as he felt the knife pressing harshly against his un-protected neck.
It was a ~Stick~.
A voice came from his capturer, “Your time is over, Border. No longer will you bore people to death with your speeches.” Vickvire whined in a high pitched and desperate voice, “I’m not Border! I’m the duke Vickvire!”
The voice behind him became unsteady and started to cry, “Just when I thought I would get my revenge, just when I thought I had it made…boo-hoo-hoo-hoo. I give up on life…boo-hoo-hoo-hoo. No one loves me…boo-hoo-hoo-hoo.”
Vickvire looked behind him and was surprised to see a young man dressed in an odd-fitting suit, a bee-hive mask, and instead of brandishing a knife, held a fly swatter. Vickvire cocked his head at an angle, bewildered. “Who in the Geedubbaya’dhell are you?”
The lad continued to sob, but Vickvire managed to catch a few words. “I…*sob* wanted badly…*sob*…to join the ~Stick~ Commandos…*snort*…but Border’s mean to me!...*sniffle*…He’s sooo friggin’ mean! %$#^#$^ mean! YOU KNOW HOW #@$%^@# MEAN THAT GUY CAN GET? DO YOU? DO YOU? $^@$ BORDER!!!”
Vickvire stood up and his voice grew confident. “What’s your name, son?”
“My name’s Strange, and don’t make fun of it!” The lad replied angrily and hastily.
Vickvire nodded. “Well, Strange, my name’s Vickvire. If you want, you can help me eradicate the evil ~Stick~ Commandos forever.”
“We’ll help you.” Strange nodded officially.
Vickvire smiled. “That’s good. Hey! What do you mean, ‘we’?”
Strange laughed, “I brought some of my friends. They’re also mutinying.” He then waved to a human’s Shadow about four feet away. An orange-haired kid stepped awkwardly out of the Shadows.
Vickvire spoke up, “…and what’s your name?”
“dont got 1”
Vickvire stood aghast. “You mean to tell me you don’t have a name?”
“yes i never relly gotted a name cuz my family movad away wen i was litel and then my sisther kind of well you know not really but sort of left me 2. pies realle good rihgt?”
Three last forms stepped out of the forest. One was also short, but had a deeper voice than the others. He spoke first, “Wats up? My name’s ShOvEl. I’m willing to fight as long as my dial-up stays on.”
Vickwire motioned for him to join them and then turned to look at the other man that had come with ShOvEl. This man Vickvire recognized immediately as the strong-looking 19-year old, K.A.L.. He carried a large sword and appeared just as loyal as the others. "Let's friggin' roll." he said confidently.
The third announced himself (in a thick Austrailian accent) as "Damn-a-dang."
Yet another kid stepped out of the trees, causing Vickvire to sigh with impatience. This one was shorter, but had a whole mess of curly, black hair. He said his name was Robin. After shaking hands with Robin, Vickvire put a rope across the forest so no one else could step out of the shadows.
Strange, K.A.L., Vickvire, ShOvEl, Damn-a-dang, Robin, and the kid standing by the oak’s Shadow, rose up together in the now light-tickled forest.
“By proboards31,” Vickvire gasped, “We have an army.”
Chapter ii - In ~STICK~ Territory and more!
“GOOO…Badger…GOOO…kill ‘em faster, kill ‘em quicker…make their reinforcements flicker…GOOO…Badger…GOOO…” - Infantry
It was only when he was tied up and lowered menacingly towards a sweltering fire surrounded by thousands of troops with all rifles pointed at him that Vickvire felt the first twinge of fear. There, standing beside him, frowning and cursing, was Border Ickity Ick. He had a bandana around his forehead and a chin of steel. Strong arms, covered in black heart tattoos showed that this man was no one to mess with. His long brown hair fell down in locks as he bent down to taunt Vickvire. Opening his evil mouth he spewed forth verbal poison.
“Yew better watch out, ‘cuz ‘hi aren’t theh only person that wants yer life.”
The shock of the evil leader’s accent struck Vickvire like a pound of molasses. He was a country bumpkin! Vickvire was only able to think for a second before Border’s violent voice rang out again.
“G’hang, this is h’why we update our mission statements with the latest Spie-Wear, or something like this may happen. 'member boys - Mah Coffee is the only Spie-Wear to use. Take an example from this liddle twerp who tried thwartin’ the majesty of the ~Stick~ Commandos. I will crush ‘im like a bug!”
Border raised his foot and made to smash Vickvire’s brain out. Instead, he managed to plow his appendage into the blazing coals, singeing his boots. Scattered laughs arose from the camp as Border sped around the ground, trying desperately to get the burning flakes of fire off his feet.
“I will make yew suffah’ for that, h’idiot! You have messed with the guy who was voted ‘Greatest military mind of the week’…me! Border Ickity-Ick!”
The hairs on Vickvire’s legs rose ten inches in the air. His eyes bulged and his teeth chattered involuntarily. His death was coming soon; he could feel it.
By now, you are probably wondering where Vickvire’s loyal companions are, correcto? Holding their friend’s hand while he undergoes this torture? No. Taking some of the pain for him by interceding on his behalf? No. Dining on succulent roasted pheasant and choice wine? Yes! This is exactly what Innapantry and Piper the Peon were doing. And eating with them were the ~Stick~ Commando divas, Dork_Imaginary and Deviled Egg who were currently admiring Innapantry’s flabby muscles. Needless to say, the stupid cyclops was thoroughly enjoying this treatment. Piper seemed to enjoy the food more than the women.
Dork_Imaginary talked soothingly to Innapantry, “My, what strong muscles you have, such…SHUT UP BILLY! #$^&*$%^@! #$^*(^#!” She yelled at the top of her voice at her young ~Stickling~ that had just rounded the corner and flicked a roasted pea at her. She resumed her calm rubbing of the cyclops shoulder as they all relaxed. A skinny ~Stick Commando~ from the region of Flanada, whose name was Wrecklan, came inside the hut and announced: “Master Piper, the prisoner is about to crack. Our Dark Lord, high commander, divine celibate master of the universe, Border Ickity-Ick wishes to inform you that he is ready for the vial of poison.”
Piper stood up and produced a small bottle filled with a green liquid. Innapantry shook off Dork_Imagery’s arm and jumped up from the recliner, his eyes livid with anger. “You have betrayed us all, Piper! You were with the ~Stick~ Commandos from the beginning!” Piper yawned, “It is of no importance; once my master and I have what we need I will kill you both.” Dork_Imaginary chuckled a low, guttural laugh.
Two hours later…
Vickvire and Innapantry were royally screwed. They were in front of the whole assembly, hanging from trees. Border Ickity-Ick strutted in front of them, holding the vile of poison.
“Now sons,” he said sweetly to them, “this here is whut we ~Stick~ Commandos call El-dubbayoo poison. H’it’s the most dangerous venom in the whole whaorld. It’s made with the el-dubbayoo plant, h’obviously. We get some of k’hat and then stir the plant with some airogance roots and just a touch of mad-skille extract. You will die in less than three seconds.”
Vickvire gulped and quivered, but refused to show any signs of fear.
“But I h’can’t jest letcha all die that easy now, eh? LOL, so we’re going to have a little fun. We’re going to see how long you can stand torture. We’re going to see how long you can last in Hell itself.” Border whistled sharply. “Boys!” he winked mischievously, “Git me the meeting protocol.”
The forest was silent, and the sound of Vickvire’s body fainting to the ground was heard.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
They revived him with some water and assembled a few chairs. Border’s son came over and laughed/drooled in Vickvire’s face. “My daddies going to own you. Ee-dubbayoo’s like you suck.”
Border hushed the child and threw out some orders to his troops. “G’hang, I need one of you to go get me the role-call sheet. Don, wewd you mihnd terribly if you could just get mah role-call sheet? Thank you, Don.”
Don was a younger lad, about 19, with cold eyes and a large mop of brown hair. He originated from the land of Hexico. Don returned momentarily, clumsily carrying a massive scroll nearly five feet long. He set it before Border who now stood in front of the assembly of ~Sticks~. Unfortunately, the class clown, (and consequently, the class retard), Rod-gay, managed to hock up a spitball and fire it into the darker-skinned member, Don. Don winced and shouted aloud in anguish, “Mr. Booooorrrrrder!!! Dat dere Rod-gay juz shotted me wid der shvitball. Tell hem to pleece stop!”
Border’s voice thundered dangerously. “h’I’ll be darned if ya’ll don’t shut the friar up and listen to the darned meetin’!” His request was met with mumbled apologies and a general hushing of the group.
“Now…for the meeting. If ya’ll have any questions, you must say your name first and then state your question. Also, even if it makes no logical sense at all, (since I see ya’ll sittin’ right here visibly in front of me), I’m going to make a role-call soes I ken check who’s here and who’s not here. Let’s start. Rod-gay?”
“Here.”
“Okay…,” Border said as he put a check mark on his role-call card, “Rod-gay’s here. Next…humm…Marylin Monroe? H’is Monroe here?”
A plumpish man raised his hand timidly and spoke in a strong British accent, “Fox.”
Border’s face blushed crimson red, “Goshdangity it, Fox! Keep yer mouth shut unless you ‘ave a queshtun!”
Fox spoke up again, “Sir, I do have a suggestion.”
Border smiled pleasantly, “Oh. Well, we’re always welcome to suggetions. Go ahead Fox. LOL, you should have told me sooner.”
Fox began for the third time. “Well, mates, as ya’ can surely see, most of us have lost our initiative - (Here, Border looked impressed by Fox’s use of grammar. Fox continued) A lot of you have not been attendin’ the daily practices. I mean, why can’t you blokes attend a freakin’ four hour practice? Does that not leave you with enough free time? Does it make you suck at life? If you can’t attend a daily practice for four hours, you have no right to live. And another thing…”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Torture. The word had meant nothing to Vickvire until this evening. His eyes watered and his mouth was parched. Border had been on a rant for the past seven hours.
“…and I can’t believe you all aren’t forking out your hard earned money for…”
“…look, this clan is all yours. If you don’t want it to survive, that’s up to you…”
“…dangit Dork-Imaginary! Please turn down your stupid mic…”
“…and then he called me an “incompetent leader” LOL. Their clan will never last…”
“…I propose that practice be increased to six hours a day…”
Vickvire felt that he couldn’t hold on much longer. Mental Claustrophobia swarmed over him like deltas in mating season. His arms drooped. His facial hair twitched.
And then it hit him - he was unguarded. His mind working like a whirlwind, he took the slip behind a chair when Order turned his back to show the group a new plan of attack. By now, most of the clan was asleep and snoring, but Border did not seem to mind. Only Innapantry was awake, sitting attentively, digesting Border’s every word.
Ah well, sighed Vickvire, Innapantry will have to fend for himself. Vickvire fell prone to the ground and began crawling towards the surrounding foliage. When he was about twenty meters from the ~Stick~ Commando’s camp, he got up and ran for it. He ran for freedom. He ran for life. He ran for the King. He ran until he tripped over a large hole and fell face-first into a pit of mud. “Danged badger’s hole!” He screamed. Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming rapidly towards him.
Silence. And then a sharp chink. He started to moan as he felt the knife pressing harshly against his un-protected neck.
It was a ~Stick~.
A voice came from his capturer, “Your time is over, Border. No longer will you bore people to death with your speeches.” Vickvire whined in a high pitched and desperate voice, “I’m not Border! I’m the duke Vickvire!”
The voice behind him became unsteady and started to cry, “Just when I thought I would get my revenge, just when I thought I had it made…boo-hoo-hoo-hoo. I give up on life…boo-hoo-hoo-hoo. No one loves me…boo-hoo-hoo-hoo.”
Vickvire looked behind him and was surprised to see a young man dressed in an odd-fitting suit, a bee-hive mask, and instead of brandishing a knife, held a fly swatter. Vickvire cocked his head at an angle, bewildered. “Who in the Geedubbaya’dhell are you?”
The lad continued to sob, but Vickvire managed to catch a few words. “I…*sob* wanted badly…*sob*…to join the ~Stick~ Commandos…*snort*…but Border’s mean to me!...*sniffle*…He’s sooo friggin’ mean! %$#^#$^ mean! YOU KNOW HOW #@$%^@# MEAN THAT GUY CAN GET? DO YOU? DO YOU? $^@$ BORDER!!!”
Vickvire stood up and his voice grew confident. “What’s your name, son?”
“My name’s Strange, and don’t make fun of it!” The lad replied angrily and hastily.
Vickvire nodded. “Well, Strange, my name’s Vickvire. If you want, you can help me eradicate the evil ~Stick~ Commandos forever.”
“We’ll help you.” Strange nodded officially.
Vickvire smiled. “That’s good. Hey! What do you mean, ‘we’?”
Strange laughed, “I brought some of my friends. They’re also mutinying.” He then waved to a human’s Shadow about four feet away. An orange-haired kid stepped awkwardly out of the Shadows.
Vickvire spoke up, “…and what’s your name?”
“dont got 1”
Vickvire stood aghast. “You mean to tell me you don’t have a name?”
“yes i never relly gotted a name cuz my family movad away wen i was litel and then my sisther kind of well you know not really but sort of left me 2. pies realle good rihgt?”
Three last forms stepped out of the forest. One was also short, but had a deeper voice than the others. He spoke first, “Wats up? My name’s ShOvEl. I’m willing to fight as long as my dial-up stays on.”
Vickwire motioned for him to join them and then turned to look at the other man that had come with ShOvEl. This man Vickvire recognized immediately as the strong-looking 19-year old, K.A.L.. He carried a large sword and appeared just as loyal as the others. "Let's friggin' roll." he said confidently.
The third announced himself (in a thick Austrailian accent) as "Damn-a-dang."
Yet another kid stepped out of the trees, causing Vickvire to sigh with impatience. This one was shorter, but had a whole mess of curly, black hair. He said his name was Robin. After shaking hands with Robin, Vickvire put a rope across the forest so no one else could step out of the shadows.
Strange, K.A.L., Vickvire, ShOvEl, Damn-a-dang, Robin, and the kid standing by the oak’s Shadow, rose up together in the now light-tickled forest.
“By proboards31,” Vickvire gasped, “We have an army.”
