Once upon a time, in lands far away where the sun had not yet risen, a young wizard awoke and reached his hand out to the side to feel for his beloved plushie. It was an adorable little gryphon, one he had made himself to fit right into the palm of his hand and dance and sing for him every morning.
And it was gone.
The plushie he had given the breath of life to had vanished! Oh what was a young wizard to do then but cling to his soft sheets, bury his little face into the pillow and begin to sob. His cries were so loud that the whole house awoke quite suddenly and rushed to see what the cause of such infernal noise was.
In lands farther away from the aforementioned it was morning.
Morning!
“Oh glorious, beautiful, refreshing morning!” The tiny gryphon called out and stretched out his felt arms, wiggling his three soft, plushy talons as he swayed his foot from left to right to an unknown melody in his head. He was completely soaked in morning dew, and as he lifted himself up from the ground he began his failing attempts at drying himself off as if a dog. Then, as if a switch in his mind went off, the Gryphon extended his arms at his sides and began to wave his body. "Get up offa that thing, and dance 'till you feel better, get up offa that thing, and dance 'till you, UH, sing it now!"
Gryph began swishing his tail from side to side, and moonwalking through the wet grass as he continued with his morning song.
The young tree Gryph had been sleeping beside finally awoke as well, and shook its leaves and branches only to soak the tiny creature beneath it even more.
“Isn’t it glorious?” The leaves responded in unison with a voice so soft one would swear it was but the wind. The tree then bent its branches down and wrapped them around the dancing plushie, living it up to drop him atop the highest branches.
“GET OFF OF ME! You're interrupting - WHOAA, you know I have a fear of heights!” The leaves laughed and the branches began to twist and sway. The motion was enough to get the Gryphon to start crying and screaming, clinging to his own branch for dear life, but the motion was not enough to actually cause him to lose his balance.
It was just a joke that the tree enjoyed to pull every now and again. “I will chop you up and turn you into firewood!” The gryphon continued, but by the time he even finished his statement the young tree had stopped with its twisting and swaying.
“With what are you going to do such a thing? You poke us, and your arm bends!” The leaves cried out with a tinkling laughter that made the gryphon pout and shake his head. He released the branches he was holding onto and went crashing down, only to bounce back up to about half of the young tree’s height. One more fall and then Gryph landed on his tiny, disproportionate feet.
“Ohhh I’ll find something for you, alright!” He growled, waving a fluffy arm around angrily.
Last edited by Mme. Guillotine; 11-15-2011 at 02:42 PM.
There he was the mighty Karakanstanallan. A great beast of a thing, part goat, part ape, part time worker at Starbucks. This hairy thing moved about on tiny baby legs whose skittering steps made the sound of drizzling rain. It needed to eat and it could only survive by dining upon one food source, cuteness. Karakanstanallan are the exact opposite of adorable, so like that fat uncle that shows up every thanksgiving Karakanstanallan simply eat to feel better and they do for as they eat all the cuteness out of the world they come closer and closer to being considered not all that ugly compared to what's leftover.
So moving across the plains of jelly dounts and lard-slinging haberdashers, the Karakanstanallan who had a name and that name was Charlie, saw to his delight, a playful tree and a small innocent looking doll moving about underneath its boughs. A chicken salad Charlie thought hungrily as his brain drooled in anticipation causing his ears to water slightly in an all around unpleasant display. Not wishing to wait any longer, Charlie wished to not be waiting. This did not work as he ended up waiting to not wait so instead he took action into his own tiny baby legs and skittered swiftly toward the duo. Not wishing to calm them, Charlie attempted to yell something that would alarm them, oh wait I go that backwards CHARLIE N-
"I'M GONNA EAT YOU BOTH NOOOOOW!"
Damn, well that's what happens when you pay your narrator minimum wage with no bathroom breaks, speaking of that.............and there we go. As Charlie continued to march toward the frolicking duo unaware of his idiocy, his thoughts turned to all the ways he could prepare them to eventually be eaten...
I could fry them into a cake, or both of them I'd bake
Or perhaps I could simmer them insteaaaad
But when I get down to em, perhaps I could just brew em
I'm glad I have this time to think aheaaaad
Oh wondrous splendorous food
Why are you so good
We could be best friends
If your lives I did not have to ennnnnnnnd!
And with that beautiful concerto finish Charlie opened his gnashing jaws and charged toward the two.
Gryph was very much preoccupied with developing some sort of master plan by which he could punish the tree for being so damned rude to him all the time! Of course by the time any such thoughts began getting eloquent in his mind, his train of thought had already jumped to sweet berries covered in chocolate syrup and honey-dipped strudels, and oh how his beak began to salivate… if beaks even do that. Just as the thoughts were getting delicious, as in Gryph swimming in a sea of chocolatey goodness, a loud shout startled him.
“You’re going to what us who now?” Gryph called out towards the massive and… odd-looking creature, though it wasn’t frightening to him. It was just odd. For a moment he even thought that it must’ve been one of his creator’s creations finally catching up to him. Then the tree behind him bent down, and the leaves brushed against his wings.
“He wants to eat us, dumbass.” The leaves spoke in unison in a sing song voice that made Gryph giggle.
“Well if he wants to eat us… why are you singing about it?” Gryph called out, waving his arms about like a retarded seal. He leaned forward to bang his beak against tree, but the soft fabric moulded around the thin wooden body instead.
And then he heard singing. That creepy goaty apey thing was singing? The gryphon plushie turned its head around to take a look at the creature, but by the time it caught sight of the predator it had already begun to charge for them.
“HEY HOLD ON THERE! I’m made of felt! I will NOT go down easy…” Gryph paused for a mere second, his expression one of confusing. “…nor out. I think the last part could be more painful.” He spoke as if to himself, but the leaves of the tree behind him agreed. Seeing that the creature did not stop, Gryph charged it as well.
He picked up speed and ran right between the creature’s legs, then turned towards his annoying, prankster friend. “MATRIX HIM!” Gryph called out, and the leaves shuddered in a nod. When the Karakanstanallan got close, the young tree would bend to the side. If it was too late for him to stop his charge, the creature would trip over the bent tree and find himself face-first in the muddy ground.
A rowmertha named Bertha popped it's head out of the ground to see what the ruckus was so early in the morning. "W...what is it now? I'm trying to rest_in_peace..." cried the unsightly mushy head of the earthwormish creature. It looked ahead at the source of the trickling steps, noticing the Karakanstanallan running at full charge. "Ah! Have you finally changed your mind about eating me? I've fattened up a little since last we met. I'm sure I taste better now..."
You see, Bertha is chronically depressed and is itself a depressing creature. The miracle is that it is still alive, as many of their kind have suicidal tendencies. Then again, there are few creatures that find them appetizing. Big Bertha's three main goals in life are to sleep, die, and be eaten. The order in which these occur is of no consequence. She also craves attention more than anything, which may be part of her fixation on being eaten. At least then she'll feel wanted.
For that reason, Bertha has been on an insatiable diet to increase her mass and fatty tissue, in hopes of appearing as a delicacy.
[Un]fortunately for Bertha, she was clearly not on the menu, as the goatapish creature was headed in a different direction. She turned to see a plushie in full dash as it ran between the legs of the Karakanstanallan. "Oh my", she thought. "I wake up to the wretchedness of the morning's glory, only to find some pecker of a creature going boldly between another's legs. I'm not jealous at all." A tear fell from her tiny beaky mouth. As she continued to watch, the plushie emerged from the other side and shouted to something beyond the Karakanstanallan's charge. On impulse, she unearthed herself and dashed towards the tree with amazing speed in an attempt to stand between the tree and the Karakanstanallan, crying to herself along the way: "Kara-dear, why won't you ever look at me like that? ;.;"
Ball of Slime remained motionless on a granite’s flat surface, basking in the sun. From the start, he was a passive spectator of strangeness, from the plump plushie’s plummet from a plum tree (it was plum, Slime imagined, to fit his affinity for alliteration), to the gryphon and goatesque creature charging each other, and now to an environmentalist slug hugging to protect the tree.
Slime actually was genderless, but for the sake of simplicity, it’s a he. After all, he patterned his humanoid shape after Dr. Vilanos Grigor, a male scientist who did studies on him. Studies, yes, and not experiments, for experiments suggested that the good doctor was an evil scientist. Far from it! Dr. Grigor was the one who fed him sustenance via needles, radiation treatments, and other laboratory devices. Does that sound villainous?
Ball was grateful, if a gelatinous creature could even feel such an emotion. The lab classified him non-living, inanimate. How could a mass of blue matter in a constant volatile state of quantum flux be considered living? Hovering between solid and liquid. It could explain his shapeshifting ability, but not his sentience. An oddball of creation, if anything.
Ah, delicious photon candies and sundrop goodies. Basking in sunlight’s better than Baskin Robbins.
Now recharged to full capacity, Ball of Slime rolled down the rock to join the party. To shield the suicidal slug with his spherical splendid self.
Bounce-bounce-b-b-b-bounce!
Ball
of Slime
remained
motionless on
a granite’s flat surface,
basking in the sun. From the start, he
was a passive spectator of strangeness, from the
plump plushie’s plummet from a plum tree (it was plum,
Slime imagined, to fit his affinity for alliteration), to the gryphon
and goatesque creature charging each other, and now to an environmentalist
slug hugging to protect the tree. Slime actually was genderless, but for the sake
of simplicity, it’s a he. After all, he patterned his humanoid shape after Dr. Vilanos Grigor,
a male scientist who did studies on him. Studies, yes, and not experiments, for experiments
suggested that the good doctor was an evil scientist. Far from it! Dr. Grigor was the one who
fed him sustenance via needles, radiation treatments, and other laboratory devices. Does that
sound villainous? Ball was grateful, if a gelatinous creature could even feel such an emotion.
The lab classified him non-living, inanimate. How could a mass of blue matter in a constant
volatile state of quantum flux be considered living? Hovering between solid and liquid. It
could explain his shapeshifting ability, but not his sentience. An oddball of creation, if
anything. Ah, delicious photon candies and sundrop goodies. Basking in sunlight’s
better than Baskin Robbins. Now recharged to full capacity, Ball of Slime
rolled down the rock to join the party. To shield the suicidal slug with
his spherical splendid self. Bounce-bounce-b-b-b-bounce!
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