The Quest for Carbuncle

The Quest for Carbuncle


Ladies and Gentlemen, tots and teens, I bring to you a droplet from the veins of the grand tradition of the "Eye of Argon". Though none can compare to the Lusty Great Grignr of the Varying Vowels and Inconstant Consonants, The Extraordinary Inordinary, known among his peers as Pittsburghmillifordheisscarnegie, fails so throughly at comparisons that he has ceased to be comparable, transcending the realms of Logic and Insanity to come inside-out.

Unfortunately, his organs do not make polite conversation, and so instead we shall talk about his brother, Phil, short for Philadelphiakandensisubercapone, as he is actually polite, seeing as how he does not spurt blood upon Guests of Import, and unfortunate and resentry acquired past-time of Potsbergmileyferdhaiscarnage.

Now, Fila-- what do you mean I"m not spelling his name properly?! I'm telling a story here. As in conveyoring via language medium. Spelling is entirely irreverent, and it's not my fault she can't spell things into your compressor prosperly. Besides which, the names have no standard graphs anyways, so your complaint is moot.

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes!

As I was saying...

Pill was dosing one miserable sunny day when -- Yes, days can be miserable sunny. Fill's a vampire, didn't you know? -- when he was rudely interrupted by -- I was sorely tempted to say "rude audience member", but that simply was not the truth of the matter in any shape or form, and I am only licensed to tell the whole, elongate, and liberated truth with all its twists and tails. -- a can of pain falling onto his head.

Now, Phil had never much liked paint, especially white paint, which this was, especially ever since his Huck Finn gambit to persuade the other neighborhood boys to paint the fence for him had failed all those years ago, so he lost his head in his mad scramble to get the can off it, and it rolled into the sunlight where it promptly caught fire and burnt to ash.

Or, rather, it would have had Gill been a normal vampire, but he was a Good vampire who had been turned against his sill, plus he religiously went to Church every Sunday through Saturday, and he made sure to bathe hourly in Holy Water sanctified by the Pope himself (since he was a family friend and all) until he variably shined with holiness, so all that happened was that he got grass in his beautiful hair and nasty sun in his eyes while he waited for his body to come along and reattack itself.

And then this really beautiful woman who was obviously his destined soulhate tripped along while being chased by evil vampires with overgrown nails, matted hair, and this cloud of reek that clung to their blood-crusted naked skin, horrendously yellowed teeth practically composed of gingivitis, and breath so bad it could kill the dead.

And then Phil got in there and jabbed one here, dropped another one like this, tore the head off another with his manly thighs by twisting like so, and saved her without so much as breaking a perfectly mancured nail or moving a single hair on his head. Then he looked into her globular organs of hard green stone and proclaimed with his perfectly resounding monotone:

"You need a bath. I'm late for mine. Join me?"

The booty looked up at Fill with awe and replied with a voice like fine-shattered crystal, "My Love! My Life! I have found you at last! I have known we were destined to be together forever from the moment my eyes laid upon you! Together we shall save the world!" She flung herself upon Kill and began kissing him in her fever.

Phil placed a pure finger upon her luscious lips and replied, "After a bath."

"Anything for you, My Love! My Life!" she cried and dashed off to find Holy Water, which she carried back to hill in the grandest of golden tubs and bathed him right on the spot.

While they were bathing, Pill asked the booby what they needed to save the world from, and she told him, shining hot tears burning her eyes and melting her face, about how the Bright Candlebra had set out to dominate the world by murdering her entire family to take over her rightful kingdom and fill the world with unending illumination for ever and ever.

Well, Fill could not allow that to happen seeing as how the light hurt his eyes and made Fitsborgmoleyfartheistcarnokey mutate grossly at a faster rate, so he set out at once with his souldbait to stop the Bright Candlebra and restore darkness to her kingdom by finding the mythical Carbuncle.

They found the Carbuncle with the Great Candlebra in her castle surrounded by the burnt bodies of her family, and the sight of such bodily disrespect to his destined outlaws so enraged Phil that he marched right up to the overgrown pricket and punched his lights out.

And everyone lived happily ever after, especially after she got pregnant and died in childbirth.




The End

Spoiler

(Or is it?)

This was insanely fun to write. Missing prepositions, variable spellings, horrible homophone hijinks... Ohyes.

Lovely, very funny! the end was very cute. I assume she became vampire afterward, like the whiny cow from Twilight. Great fun to read!

Hi Kyllorac!

Hmm... it seems like you were going for the bad writing without actually putting a story in here. Not sure why you did this, lol. In any case, it's written in a prosaic fashion, but there really isn't any story here. So next time, remember! Story comes first, bad writing style comes second.

And even then, I'm not certain it's a bad writing style. It's different to what we're used to at this time, but it's more typical of the stories in the 1800s, which I've been reading as of late. So yeah.

The main reason why this is bad is because of the lack of story, not the actual style. Next time, make sure the story is there, but just bad!

I ought to hammer you on the head for this.
But then that's a two way street. And you would hit back harder. : (

Kyllorac wrote:The Quest for Carbuncle


Ladies and Gentlemen, tots and teens, I bring to you a droplet from the veins of the grand tradition of the "Eye of Argon". Though none can compare to the Lusty Great Grignr of the Varying Vowels and Inconstant Consonants, The Extraordinary Inordinary, known among his peers as Pittsburghmillifordheisscarnegie, fails so throughly at comparisons that he has ceased to be comparable, transcending the realms of Logic and Insanity to come inside-out.

Unfortunately, his organs do not make polite conversation, and so instead we shall talk about his brother, Phil, short for Philadelphiakandensisubercapone, as he is actually polite, seeing as how he does not spurt blood upon Guests of Import, and unfortunate and resentry acquired past-time of Potsbergmileyferdhaiscarnage.

Now, Fila-- what do you mean I"m not spelling his name properly?! I'm telling a story here. As in conveyoring via language medium. Spelling is entirely irreverent, and it's not my fault she can't spell things into your compressor prosperly. Besides which, the names have no standard graphs anyways, so your complaint is moot.

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes!

As I was saying...

Pill was dosing one miserable sunny day when -- Yes, days can be miserable sunny. Fill's a vampire, didn't you know? -- when he was rudely interrupted by -- I was sorely tempted to say "rude audience member", but that simply was not the truth of the matter in any shape or form, and I am only licensed to tell the whole, elongate, and liberated truth with all its twists and tails. -- a can of pain falling onto his head.

Now, Phil had never much liked paint, especially white paint, which this was, especially ever since his Huck Finn gambit to persuade the other neighborhood boys to paint the fence for him had failed all those years ago, so he lost his head in his mad scramble to get the can off it, and it rolled into the sunlight where it promptly caught fire and burnt to ash.

Or, rather, it would have had Gill been a normal vampire, but he was a Good vampire who had been turned against his sill, plus he religiously went to Church every Sunday through Saturday, and he made sure to bathe hourly in Holy Water sanctified by the Pope himself (since he was a family friend and all) until he variably shined with holiness, so all that happened was that he got grass in his beautiful hair and nasty sun in his eyes while he waited for his body to come along and reattack itself.

And then this really beautiful woman who was obviously his destined soulhate tripped along while being chased by evil vampires with overgrown nails, matted hair, and this cloud of reek that clung to their blood-crusted naked skin, horrendously yellowed teeth practically composed of gingivitis, and breath so bad it could kill the dead.

And then Phil got in there and jabbed one here, dropped another one like this, tore the head off another with his manly thighs by twisting like so, and saved her without so much as breaking a perfectly mancured nail or moving a single hair on his head. Then he looked into her globular organs of hard green stone and proclaimed with his perfectly resounding monotone:

"You need a bath. I'm late for mine. Join me?"

The booty looked up at Fill with awe and replied with a voice like fine-shattered crystal, "My Love! My Life! I have found you at last! I have known we were destined to be together forever from the moment my eyes laid upon you! Together we shall save the world!" She flung herself upon Kill and began kissing him in her fever.

Phil placed a pure finger upon her luscious lips and replied, "After a bath."

"Anything for you, My Love! My Life!" she cried and dashed off to find Holy Water, which she carried back to hill in the grandest of golden tubs and bathed him right on the spot.

While they were bathing, Pill asked the booby what they needed to save the world from, and she told him, shining hot tears burning her eyes and melting her face, about how the Bright Candlebra had set out to dominate the world by murdering her entire family to take over her rightful kingdom and fill the world with unending illumination for ever and ever.

Well, Fill could not allow that to happen seeing as how the light hurt his eyes and made Fitsborgmoleyfartheistcarnokey mutate grossly at a faster rate, so he set out at once with his souldbait to stop the Bright Candlebra and restore darkness to her kingdom by finding the mythical Carbuncle.

They found the Carbuncle with the Great Candlebra in her castle surrounded by the burnt bodies of her family, and the sight of such bodily disrespect to his destined outlaws so enraged Phil that he marched right up to the overgrown pricket and punched his lights out.

And everyone lived happily ever after, especially after she got pregnant and died in childbirth.




The End

Spoiler

(Or is it?)

This was insanely fun to write. Missing prepositions, variable spellings, horrible homophone hijinks... Ohyes.

Hahahaha. Now I can't give this a serious review. Not at all.

First thing, the paragraph about the Pope draws on without doing much for me. It's stating why monsieur vampire is self-hating and is ridiculous in his entirety...well it lacks punch, unless you purely wanted the interposition this creates in him. Also, the beginning draws on too much. You need to find a snappier, faster, witter way to get in.

The thing is, you did it pretty durn well already. If I have quibbles, some of your deliberate choices are a little too deliberate, mkay? Tone dat down in Prose, even comedy or satire, mkay? Or I'll go all Mr. Mackey mixed with Emperor Lrr, MKAY PUNY HUMAN?!

THAT IS ALL. THIS LITTLE JOKE AND JINGLE MADE ME QUITE AMUSED WITH HUMAN WIT AND ACTUALLY MADE ME LAUGH.