Doubble Dutch
Apr 17, 2006, 07:05 AM
I just had a nice conversation with someone who told me if I was going to go round being a (-) and criticise other peoples perfectly good writing I should actually bother writng something myself and see how I like it.
So here goes; a nice piece of utter trash to waste several minutes of your valuable time [Which you're spending on the JCF, go figure.]
An Easter Tale:
Vrizi awoke to the shrill beeping of his alarm clock once again tearing him away from the pleasures of sleep before his time. As usual he reached over and knocked it off the bedside table, and as usual, the clock, a veteran of many mornings bounced unharmed onto a pile of used underwear and continued its incessant demands of wakefulness until Vrizi was forced to get up, search for it and turn it off properly. He stared blearaly at his hutch, which, contrary to his hopes, hadn't miraculously improved overnight. There were still the same stained woodshavings on the floor, disorganised pile of slightly mouldy washing in the corner, and, near his dresser several half chewed carrots were making the best of a bad situationa nd taking root. There was a brief pause as something important nuged its way up from his unconsious, through various layers of thought before hotwiring itself straight to his cerebellum.
Holy (-)! Today was the day! He slammed open his door and dashed down he corridor of the compound. He couldn't be late, not this time, not again; he was already one of the lowest ranked bunnies in the entire department; another faliue like last year and he'd be sent to, he shuddered [i]packing Well, not this thime; this time he'd be ready, prepared and presentable at the sector allocation room right on time! He hurried throught the usual showering and personal hygeine, greatly surprising several coworkers who'd not seen him in months, and quietly assumed he was dead. But this was to be different from his monthly shower; for afterwards there was preperation and uniforming to be done; the Easter Bunnies had proud, if somewhat unusual traditions to uphold. First up was an all over dye job, Vrizi was unfortunate enough to be born yellow, a nice color for packing or egg production, but the traditional pink/white motif of the Easter Bunnies was required for all field operatives. Stomach white, all the rest pink, Vrizi staggered from the haredressers [a pun they insisted on using, despite its absolutely sickening stupidity] itching all over from the dye and nauseous from the fumes. Why they couldn't find a better hair dye he didn't know, after all; they'd found a way to coat soft goey fillings with hard chocolate. [How the hell did that work? I mean you bit into it and it practically dripped out!] Up next was uniform; a pair of the ztupidest pants he'd ever seen [pink, but of course] and a big red bow arond his neck. He looked like an idiot, but rules were rules.
Several miniutes later he was standing in the assignment room, along with the other 11 bunnies in his sector. They gave him a surprised look as he entered; Max had been covering his shifts for the past three years, and nobody expected him to turn up after last years 'incident' His commander immediately approached him with an evil looking smirk on his face. "Guess what Vriz? You've been reassigned! Turns out our man on shift 315 got cold feet and eloped to Exoticus with one of those floozies from the tooth business. There were a number of snickers from the assorted company; everyone knew that the fairies were losser than the loose change they carried, and many a coin under a childs pillow had origionally been given to a fairy for much more... interesting services. But the snickers here were different; condescending and slightly taunting; Vrizi knew he was in for a bum job, but couldn't for the life of him figure out what. As he trudged to to the loading bay he tried to recall the shift codes he'd read in the bunny manual all those years ago. 3, well that was carrotus for sure, one of the easier jobs, or he'd've had to take a ship offworld the day before, 15...15... wasn't that in the Eccle area...? SOmething nagged at him, surely he'd seen that code recently? The question trobbled his mind as he loaded up his basket, which, he noted, contained only nine eggs, that meant only three children to deliver to. An icy feeling rose in his chest, 15; the code wasn't specific, not for any given area, but a designation. All high risk operations were '14 and any casualties raised it to '15. There were four 314's, but only one ,ission on carrotus had ever been given the designation 315. Devan Shell.
Technically the Easter Bunnies were obliged to deliver at least three chocolate eggs to every good child in their domain, several years back it had been noted on their registers that Devan shell had met up with his ideal partner at an mad scientists convention on Shellion. The union had produced three offspring, who, despite their parentage and the most feverent hopes of many a bunny, had turned out good enough to qualify. Vrizi recalled in horror the list of previous attempts and the results thereof; only one casualty, but the list of unfortunates grew steadily with every year. Last years had to gnaw his own foot off, it was said Shell still kept it 'for good luck...' Reports of specially designed chocolate sensitive booby traps, trained guards and anti bunny missiles were rife. And now it was his turn. Vrizi shuddered. He could always flee, sure he'd loose the job, but he'd keep all his limbs... No. You couldn't think like that, he had a job to do, and for once he'd do his best, just to spite the (-)s at HQ who'd given him the (-) thing.
And then he was out in the open air, all too soon he'd found himself at the secret entrance to Shell's current residence, a secret military base located just to the north of the Transvassal ranges, no more than a missiles throw from Carrotus castle itself [A fact that would be dramatically proven just six weeks later] Of course the place hadn't been hard to find, the Bunnies kept regular correspondence with Christmas and Co, but unfortunately as Mr Claus himself hadn't managed to deliever a present nor coal to the Shell household for six years, he hadn't been given any infiltration tips that his comrades would enjoy on *their* rounds. On the other hand, if he pulled it off, just one delivery would make him a hero. He wondered how many others had thought that in his position.
Getting in was easy enough; he didn't even have to look for the key under the doormat; since this was a Schwartzenguard entrance, it was unlocked, and had a big neon sign pointing to it, even so he had to convince a particularly dim guard that he was a travelling salesman selling encyclopaedias. [The guard almost cottoned on when he heard Wikipaedia was one of the products, but as he was currently trying to both hold a gun and chew gum, he wasn't fully focused.] He made it quite a way into the compound too, not many people were up at this time of night. But then he *had* to go and poke that little laser pointer light. The alarms went off immediately and the sound of running reptilian footsteps was close behind. Ducking into a side passage Vrizi tried desperately to think simultaneously of an escape plan and a way of finding the children. He was in luck; only a few hundred yards of panicked runnig led him to a very interesting room indeed.
So here goes; a nice piece of utter trash to waste several minutes of your valuable time [Which you're spending on the JCF, go figure.]
An Easter Tale:
Vrizi awoke to the shrill beeping of his alarm clock once again tearing him away from the pleasures of sleep before his time. As usual he reached over and knocked it off the bedside table, and as usual, the clock, a veteran of many mornings bounced unharmed onto a pile of used underwear and continued its incessant demands of wakefulness until Vrizi was forced to get up, search for it and turn it off properly. He stared blearaly at his hutch, which, contrary to his hopes, hadn't miraculously improved overnight. There were still the same stained woodshavings on the floor, disorganised pile of slightly mouldy washing in the corner, and, near his dresser several half chewed carrots were making the best of a bad situationa nd taking root. There was a brief pause as something important nuged its way up from his unconsious, through various layers of thought before hotwiring itself straight to his cerebellum.
Holy (-)! Today was the day! He slammed open his door and dashed down he corridor of the compound. He couldn't be late, not this time, not again; he was already one of the lowest ranked bunnies in the entire department; another faliue like last year and he'd be sent to, he shuddered [i]packing Well, not this thime; this time he'd be ready, prepared and presentable at the sector allocation room right on time! He hurried throught the usual showering and personal hygeine, greatly surprising several coworkers who'd not seen him in months, and quietly assumed he was dead. But this was to be different from his monthly shower; for afterwards there was preperation and uniforming to be done; the Easter Bunnies had proud, if somewhat unusual traditions to uphold. First up was an all over dye job, Vrizi was unfortunate enough to be born yellow, a nice color for packing or egg production, but the traditional pink/white motif of the Easter Bunnies was required for all field operatives. Stomach white, all the rest pink, Vrizi staggered from the haredressers [a pun they insisted on using, despite its absolutely sickening stupidity] itching all over from the dye and nauseous from the fumes. Why they couldn't find a better hair dye he didn't know, after all; they'd found a way to coat soft goey fillings with hard chocolate. [How the hell did that work? I mean you bit into it and it practically dripped out!] Up next was uniform; a pair of the ztupidest pants he'd ever seen [pink, but of course] and a big red bow arond his neck. He looked like an idiot, but rules were rules.
Several miniutes later he was standing in the assignment room, along with the other 11 bunnies in his sector. They gave him a surprised look as he entered; Max had been covering his shifts for the past three years, and nobody expected him to turn up after last years 'incident' His commander immediately approached him with an evil looking smirk on his face. "Guess what Vriz? You've been reassigned! Turns out our man on shift 315 got cold feet and eloped to Exoticus with one of those floozies from the tooth business. There were a number of snickers from the assorted company; everyone knew that the fairies were losser than the loose change they carried, and many a coin under a childs pillow had origionally been given to a fairy for much more... interesting services. But the snickers here were different; condescending and slightly taunting; Vrizi knew he was in for a bum job, but couldn't for the life of him figure out what. As he trudged to to the loading bay he tried to recall the shift codes he'd read in the bunny manual all those years ago. 3, well that was carrotus for sure, one of the easier jobs, or he'd've had to take a ship offworld the day before, 15...15... wasn't that in the Eccle area...? SOmething nagged at him, surely he'd seen that code recently? The question trobbled his mind as he loaded up his basket, which, he noted, contained only nine eggs, that meant only three children to deliver to. An icy feeling rose in his chest, 15; the code wasn't specific, not for any given area, but a designation. All high risk operations were '14 and any casualties raised it to '15. There were four 314's, but only one ,ission on carrotus had ever been given the designation 315. Devan Shell.
Technically the Easter Bunnies were obliged to deliver at least three chocolate eggs to every good child in their domain, several years back it had been noted on their registers that Devan shell had met up with his ideal partner at an mad scientists convention on Shellion. The union had produced three offspring, who, despite their parentage and the most feverent hopes of many a bunny, had turned out good enough to qualify. Vrizi recalled in horror the list of previous attempts and the results thereof; only one casualty, but the list of unfortunates grew steadily with every year. Last years had to gnaw his own foot off, it was said Shell still kept it 'for good luck...' Reports of specially designed chocolate sensitive booby traps, trained guards and anti bunny missiles were rife. And now it was his turn. Vrizi shuddered. He could always flee, sure he'd loose the job, but he'd keep all his limbs... No. You couldn't think like that, he had a job to do, and for once he'd do his best, just to spite the (-)s at HQ who'd given him the (-) thing.
And then he was out in the open air, all too soon he'd found himself at the secret entrance to Shell's current residence, a secret military base located just to the north of the Transvassal ranges, no more than a missiles throw from Carrotus castle itself [A fact that would be dramatically proven just six weeks later] Of course the place hadn't been hard to find, the Bunnies kept regular correspondence with Christmas and Co, but unfortunately as Mr Claus himself hadn't managed to deliever a present nor coal to the Shell household for six years, he hadn't been given any infiltration tips that his comrades would enjoy on *their* rounds. On the other hand, if he pulled it off, just one delivery would make him a hero. He wondered how many others had thought that in his position.
Getting in was easy enough; he didn't even have to look for the key under the doormat; since this was a Schwartzenguard entrance, it was unlocked, and had a big neon sign pointing to it, even so he had to convince a particularly dim guard that he was a travelling salesman selling encyclopaedias. [The guard almost cottoned on when he heard Wikipaedia was one of the products, but as he was currently trying to both hold a gun and chew gum, he wasn't fully focused.] He made it quite a way into the compound too, not many people were up at this time of night. But then he *had* to go and poke that little laser pointer light. The alarms went off immediately and the sound of running reptilian footsteps was close behind. Ducking into a side passage Vrizi tried desperately to think simultaneously of an escape plan and a way of finding the children. He was in luck; only a few hundred yards of panicked runnig led him to a very interesting room indeed.