Saturday, November 08, 2008

Nanowrimo Novel Part 4: Tough guy, Ninjas, and Tea.

They began the trip towards the village quiety, Fattywhorebag leading the way. But the quiet was too much for the little gnome and he slowed down to walk side by side with Michael. They talked—well, fattywhorebag talked, for the entire trip. He told Michael all about the land, the various creatures and a few good recipes for cooking flatulent flying pigmy hippos, although the gnome had never eaten any of the recipes he mentioned.

Finally they arrived at the village. It looked surprisingly dull and lifeless and actually made Michael think he was back In Saskatchewan again. The houses were not too large and there didn't seem to be many stores open.

Fattywhorebag lead Michael to a house in the middle of town. The gnome banged on the door. No one answered so Fattywhorebag banged on the door again. This time someone opened the door. Michael could see that it was not a gnome but looked mostly human. Other than a third eye and a green tinted skin colour it actually looked a lot like Bruce McMasterston, a local bully that Michael was well acquainted with. This green-Bruce as Michael dubbed him seemed to be very agitated at the gnome knocking on his door.

Before the gnome could make introductions green Bruce grabbed Fattywhorebag and then punted the 3 foot tall gnome down the street. Michael didn't think this was the welcome that the gnome expected. Michael had turned to see the gnome's flight and rough landing and when he turned his head back towards green Bruce Michael noticed the man thing was charging at him. The enraged man-thing was screaming at the top of his lungs and hit Michael hard enough to knock him down.

Michael realized he was going to have to fight this angry green thing, he didn't know why, just that it seemed like the right thing to do instead of running away and crying. Of course, for all his determination, which was in short supply on a peacefull day, Michael was also not the best prepared fighter. While he did play many many hours of video games and computer games, Michael's physique was rather non-heroic in nature.

A 250 pound, five foot six young man was not much of a challenge for a six foot tall, three eyed green tinted Hulk immitation. Nevertheless Michael decided to attempt an attack. As he got up again Michael could see green Bruce prepared for another charge. Michael planted his feet and prepared for the onslaught. This was the one time Michael felt proud of all the times he was refered to as "Sumo Homo," although the feeling didn't last long. As green Bruce neared Michael, Michael sidestepped so that the man-thing would miss him. Thinking and doing are two very different concepts and Michael's effort only moved him partially out of the way, leaving his right shoulder in the path of green Bruce's full bulk. The hit pushed Michael back down to the ground. This time he noticed green Bruce was still nearby and walking towards Michael.

Done with the running charges, green Bruce was ready for some hand to hand combat, which was never a specialty of Michael's in FPS, he preffered the SPAS-12 shotgun most of the time. Green Bruce came up and hit Michael in the chest. The pain sensation was overwhelming and Michael thought he would pass out just from that one punch. But he didn't and the punches kept coming. Michael would have tried to say something to stop this guy from hitting him but he really couldn't think of anything at the moment, possibly due to the concussion that occurred when the man's right hook landed on Michael's forhead.

It was then that the green man-thing made its mistake. It hit Michael in the stomach. The hit was painful to Michael. But the hits started to bring up the late night snack of four pizza pops that Michael had had just before he went to bed and was transported into this world. Finally green Bruce hit what would have seemed like the barf button because everything came spewing onto the guy. For those who may not be aware of what a Pizza Pop is here is a brief summary. When a food manufacturer has run out of things to do with a carcass of some animal he takes the remains, blends them up, throws in some old cheese and pours the concoction into a breaded soft shell, that is what a Pizza Pop is. Four of those carcass filled, heartburn inducing foodstuffs came hurling out onto green Bruce's face, torso and shoes. Even food that Michael never recalled eating in his life came out and sploshed on Michael's assailant.

The initial barrage of vomit that had hit green Bruce was starting to slide its way down the rest of green Bruce's extremely angry body. And while the anger was so strong that Michael could feel it resonating off green Bruce's body, another emotion, one of disgust, started to overwhelm the green beast-man-thing. After a full minute of wallowing in vomit, green Bruche ran off, screaming and crying like a little sissy girl that had just lost her favorite barbie.

At this point Michael thought it would be a good idea to pass out onto the street and promptly did so, injuring his head further in the process. When he awoke Michael felt as if he had spent an entire week listening non-stop to Nickleback songs. When he looked around he finally saw the little gnome, Fattywhorebag, sitting in front of the house where green Bruce lived. The day still seemed light out so michael hoped that he hadn't passed out for long. He also hoped that green Bruce was gone. Fattywhorebag asweaged Michael's fears by telling him that Thorton would be gone for a long time and that they could go into his house for a while.

Michael picked himself up and staggered into the small house. He quickly found a chair and plopped down on it and there he passed out again. When awoke this time it was to some very pleasing scents. There was a warm cup of tea right by Michael's head, on a tiny table beside the chair. Michael picked it up and took a sip, it tasted like vomit, which Michael just realized was still in and around his mouth. Vomit is a nasty thing to get out of your mouth and right now Michael was really wishing for some mouthwash. He didn't see the little gnome anywhere and tried calling several times until he felt odd saying the name Fattywhorebag often enough that it became comfortable.

Michael found the kettle on top of a small wood burning stove and used some of the water in it to clean out his mouth. Then he looked for some rum. Michael was never a big drinker and had in fact drank more alcohol before he was 19 than after. But right now the only thing on Michael's mind was numbing the pain of so many wounds and bruises and a massive headache. As he looked through the cupboards Michael wondered where the gnome had run off to and more importantly, where green Bruce(Michael had already forgotten the gnome calling the guy Thorton) was. His questions dissapeared when Michael found what looked like a standard flask full of an amber liquid. Michael sniffed the tip of the flask, he wasn't sure why he did that since he really had no memory of what different alcohols taste like. It just seemed like something to do. Michael tipped the flask over and let a few drops trickle down his throat. All of a sudden Michael felt better, even better than he had before the fight. He felt stronger and more handsome, he knew that he had just drank some alcohol because he didn't care about anything anymore. He was ready to kick some ass.

Michael stormed out of the house, the flask secured in his underwear. Yes, this entire time, Michael was just in his underwear. For some reason the thought of putting on clothes or asking for clothes never dawned on Michael. And with the alcohol in his system, Michael cared even less that he was walking around nearly naked.

Suddenly Michael blanked out an awoke, it was all a dream. Michael was still in bed, hand on crotch and back to thinking of Gemma Atkinson. But then Michael snapped out of his drunkeness for one second and realized that he was still in the fairy world. Or was he? Yes he was and that will be the end of this paragraph, for now.

Michael still didn't see any sign of the gnome but he did see four dark shapes moving towards him, quickly. "Oh god, please let those not be the overused ninja cliches." But indeed they were overused ninja cliches. They came charging at Michael, jumping, kicking and acting all ninja-like. But Michael was fueled with the weird alcohol and suddenly moved very quickly and quite ninja like himself, if ever there were a 250 mostly naked ninja. It seemed much like Chris Farley's skit on Saturday Night Live where he was a stripper was mixed in with Farley's movie Beverly Hills Ninja and that Michael was the start. Only Michael was a competent ninja fighter now and didn't care to dance.

Fists flew, crotches were punched and kicked and for one second, fondled. The ninjas lay on the ground, unconcious and dreaming of pirates. Finally the little gnome Fattywhorebag returned with a large smile on his face. "You did it, you really are the chosen one." This puzzled the no longer drunk but still buzzed Michael. "What was all of that?" asked Michael. "It was my test. I couldn't be sure if you were just using me and were lying about being the chosen one. But you defeated both Thorton and the ninjas I sent after you. Bravo. Now I'll lead you to Garthur right away." With every last bit of drunken strength Michael managed to kick Fattywhorebag so hard in the nuts that the little gnome disappeared from this novel and flew into the sun. Michael laughed, then puked, then laughed some more, then puked. Finally he was mostly sober but kind of still drunk and went walking down the street, still in his underwear, which were rather dirty.

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