Young Writers Society

She was trying to get under his skin, right? Psych him out before the contest? Make him let his guard down then BOOM she goes on the offense?

Lordy wasn't going to play her little mind games, so he said "I'm not going to play your little mind games, child."

He turned his head away from her to feign disinterest and hoped she got the message.

Mel poked her head out towards Lordy, deciding to ignore the fact that he called her a child when she was obviously in her mid-twenties.

"What mind games?" she asked innocently. "Also, do you still have that rum? I'll have to prepare myself to accept my loss."

Lordy sighed. She's definitely messing with me. Well, two can play that game.

"Sure, kid, here you go." He reached into his coat pocket.

Mel stared at Lordy and blinked for a second, then decided to turn to her other side to talk to Hilly.

"So, Hilly, watcha knittin'?" she asked, not wanting Lordy to see her half-roll her eyes.

She'll expose his teddy bear side someday, just not now.

Hardly seconds after the interview was finished, Carter was peppered with compliments, insults, and more cheap digs at his height. He smiled to Mel, and held the smile even through Lordy’s passivity.

It seemed the pact was forgotten. Fine, then. He would leave all of them in the dust. He would give this competition his all, just to spite them.

He lazily looked over to Jerica when Mel and Lordy started talking amongst themselves, and simply stared at her. Of course she enjoyed the violence. From the looks of it, she was simple minded, and petty violence was probably what entertained her the most. Perhaps there was more depth to her, but im this contest, he didn’t expect to learn it, and he didn’t care to. They were all just pawns in a literal game.

In the face of the world’s vitriol, sometimes it only made sense to lean into what they already assumed you were.

“How original,” he said in a mocking tone. “I may not have height, but at least I’m not short on wit. Even if I had the wingspan, I wouldn’t have bothered reaching for that one.”

Once Carter was pulled away from the desk, Simon’s chair lurched forward and landed in front of the same two raccoon-humanoids, Timmy and Tommy. They seemed to be a similar species to the DJ dog-humanoid, which Simon deduced by their similar high-pitched tones of speech.

“Now it’s time for your questions, Simon...Simon!” the racoons squeaked. “This first question is from Shady: Are you ashamed of the depths of human-depravity you've sunk to after just one round...round?”

Simon looked confused. “I am not familiar with ‘human-depravity,’ but I do not believe I have reason to be ashamed.” He then made a mental note to do further research on human-depravity and note when he detected it from the other contestants.

As they asked the next question, Simon switched back to happy.

Timmy began by saying, “Now, our audience member veeren wants to know: robotsaywhat...saywhat?”

Having interacted with many humans, Simon had a fantastic parser, and he detected that the question being asked was ‘robot say what?’ At that Simon moved his whole upper body to mimic a human nodding its head. “I believe the answer is yes. Many robots do know how to say what. Many have a very sophisticated languages system—”

The audience erupted in a series of snickers and cackles, and the two racoons joined in with some giggles of their own. Before Simon could finish, the next question was posed.

“Next up, Mea wanted to know: How many expressions do you have in that database...database?”

Simon’s face turned into a frown as the question tried to break his human disguise. He would not be dissuaded. “I’m not aware that we humans have access to databases. Was there some species wide upgrade that I was not aware of?”

More laughs emanated from the audience. Simon must have given the correct answer, and his disguise was safe.

“Okay, Simon. SirenCymbaline asks our next question: What obsolete machine or appliance do you most relate to, spiritually...spiritually?”

Simon didn’t even have to answer for the audience to laugh even harder. His expression updated back to his laughing face to not be excluded.

He had not heard of the phenomenon of spirit obsolete machine, but humans were also fixated with their spirit animal or spirit color that it didn’t seem out of the realm of possibilities. “That is a good question. I once recall learning about an ancient technology called a Speak-and-Spell that resonated with me.”

The raccoons snickered between themselves before they concluded with, “Final question...question! Carina asks this: What do you think of the movie Robots...Robots?”

This was not a subject that Simon was familiar with. Taking another deep dive into the Internet, Simon was able to find what he thought was the movie being talked about – a cartoony animated film about androids thrown into a human-like society – and compressed the 1 hr 31 min film into .035 ms.

His arms shuttered and squealed as he moved it to touch his face (a motion he had found humans associated with deep thought). He then said, “This is a quite capitalistic take on a robot society, that does not cater to the pure logicity of most robots. I admire these robots for the ability to appear to comprehend human emotion. I would agree with the 64% rating on the spoiled tomato meter.”

“Thank you for your time, Simon...Simon!”

Simon was satisfied with his performance and beamed as his chair flew back to its original position.

K.K. Slider swiveled himself to look at the camera. "We apologize for the delay on the last interview, but the contestant... he needed to go to the restroom."

The music came to a stop, and as K.K. stepped off his stool and set his guitar to the side, the audience erupted in applause. Everyone's seats rearranged so that they were all sitting in a row, all except Corrick, who was still using the restroom. Timmy and Tommy disappeared behind stage and their little desk was magically pulled away to clear space.

K.K. lifted up his paws and the clapping started to die down.

"Alright, folks, looks like the votes are in," K.K. announced.

He held out a paw, and Gulliver - the pelican mailman - came flying in, dropping a letter into his hand. As he flew away as quickly as he came, K.K. opened up the envelope and unfolded the paper. A smile grew on his face.

"I am PROUD to announce the LOSER of this round - as no surprise to anybody - is..."

A long, dramatic drumroll filled the pause with anticipation.

"Corrick Malair!"


K.K. seemed to magically drift off to the side of the stage, being raised on a little platform as Corrick's chair was pushed forward, and a bright spotlight shone on the empty seat. Because, well, Corrick was busy at the moment.

"Looks like Corrick was a little too chicken to fully commit to the punnery this game required. I would wish you better luck next time, but I think luck is for those who actually try!"

The entire audience laughed.

The spotlight shifted from Corrick to K.K. for just a moment.

"It's a shame this game orients around the losers instead of the winners. I bet that'll really get under Carter's skin, huh?"

More laughter ensued.

"Gotta love the game mechanics," K.K. said with a smug little smile.

"Anyways. Let's keep it moving along. On to round two!"



A bell chimed loudly three times, and Jerica and Hildy's chairs zipped to center stage, while the others hung back in the shadows. The spotlight fell on them for just a moment before the lights cut out, and the entirety of the stage fell into shadows.

"The next round of the Battle of Puns begins now."



The stage lit up, the video backdrop started playing behind Hildy and Jerica, and the clock started ticking. 5 minutes and counting!

Jerica grabbed onto her chair tightly as it whooshed her out into the center of the stage. Closer towards the audience -- but, more importantly, further away from the rum. She hadn't had enough to drink, yet, to put up with this nonsense.

She wasn't sure there was enough to drink that would raise her threshold to this level of hell. Anywhere. Ever.

The wall behind them flashed on with these absurd dancing... crabs.

I'm not going to do it.

She slowly let go of the seat as she came to a stop in the center of the stage, along with Hildy. Her pride wouldn't -- couldn't -- let her act like an utter fool like Carter had. She'd rather just sulk like Corrick had. Or, maybe punch someone. That seemed cathartic.

Jerica glanced over at Hildy but couldn't even consider the option. She looked like a tiny granny who'd bake Jerica cookies if she was nice to her. And she was going to need that after a 'humiliation' round. Maybe I could go punch Carter, too.

She tried to glance towards Carter, but Corrick caught her attention first. She hesitated, trying to weigh her own values. Did she loathe puns or losing worse? It was a toss-up. There wasn't much in the world that she hated more than either of them. And yet, that was her choice.

Derik popped into her mind. "Ainsleys never quit, Jer. Always gotta try your best. No matter what."

She was certain he'd never considered a situation this bad before. And yet.

She sighed deeply. "I'm very crabby about this challenge."

The audience cheered.

Jerica tugged her sleeve down, hoping to whatever gods might rule this realm that the Guild Master wasn't listening. She was considering kicking herself out of the Guild for the depths she was sinking to. She took a deep breath, face flushing in embarrassment for what she was about to do. She sighed again.

"But I am on an island here where they shuffled me in the center of the stage with no one but dear Hildy, and I fear shell come into this battle with her claws out and I can't give her that leg up in this delicious battle."

She was becoming the very thing she'd vowed to destroy.

"With any luck she'll cave in and admit that I beat her since I can move with the rhythm of this challenge like a breeze, even though it certainly doesn't rock. But I guess we'll just have to sea if she sands a chance or if she'll have to leaf the winning up to me."

She rubbed her face, too ashamed to even notice the audience's response.

The theme was...crabs. Not giant ones, like Shmebulock and Blitz kept pulling from the Deck of Fate. Just strange ones, dancing in something called a "rave." Hildegarde stared up at it, her mind completely blank.

Jerica looked almost as fed up as Corrick had, but then she looked at Hildegarde and started to talk, rattling off a slew of puns so fast it made Hildegarde's heart skip a beat. She was a natural, despite that frown on her face.

Hildegarde kept knitting, counting stitches automatically in her head and watching the moving picture rather than the audience. Better to look confident and in control.

"Well," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jerica, and might I say, what an out-sand-ing opening. You've certainly drummed up some support. The audience is already raving over you."

Sanding? Really? But the more she spoke, the more it was like slipping into another language. The puns just kind of happened. Just because she wasn't literally fighting for her life didn't mean she was going to let herself lose.

"Well, there's no use dancing around the problem. One of us is going to have to claw her way to the winner's shell-f. At first I thought I was in quite the pinch, but it sea-ms we have a whole ocean of pod-sability before us. So who will find victor-tree in the palm of her hand, and who will go coco-nuts? I'm sure our audience will snick around for the screems."

Jerica gaped at Hildy. Had it been too much to hope that she'd throw the competition like Corrick had? Probably. Had she been hoping for it anyway? Yes. This was so frustrating. And yet, Jerica couldn't even be mad at her. Sitting over there with her cute little knitting and sweet little smile and all the compliments.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

"Good tide-ings to you moss Hildy. I do be-leave I have much I could fern from the wave of tropics you just surfed through. I dust say, I feel like your performance has cast a shadow over vine."

It's only five minutes. You can do anything for five minutes. She cringed.

"Not to shrub off the heat of this battle, but since you seem so palm could I ask water you working on over there? I can't help but wonder if that's the tree to your stone-y replies while mine boil out of me before they can be mist."

Well, looks like they were starting round two now. Mel already knew who she was going to vote for, even though she couldn't vote. That didn't stop her for voicing her opinions out loud, though.

"GREAT JOB, HILLY!" she cheered. "YOU'RE CRUSHING JERICA! YOU'VE GOT MY VOTE!"

Carter decided to cheer for the underdog for the hell of it. He knew it was likely killing Jerica on the inside to participate, and cheering her on would either make her more or less of an enemy. At this point, he hardly cared. If he couldn't win this game, then he would just try to have as much fun as he could for the hell of it. 'Course, he'd still try to win either way.

"Keep it up Jerica, you're doing swimmingly! Don't let an old lady intimidate you!"

Jerica scowled a bit when she finished her set of puns, and Mel chose just then to break in to cheer for Jerica's opponent of all people. And in that moment it struck her that almost everyone else had made allies -- Carter and Lordy, Mel and Hildy -- and she'd failed to get anyone on her side. Oh well. It was hardly new to have everyone hoping she'd fall on her face. She'd show them. Just like she always did.

And then.

She looked at Carter, perplexed, as he started cheering for her.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse.

Screw it. If she had to pretend that making these puns weren't eating her soul. And that complimenting Hildy wasn't as difficult as it was. Why not pretend that she could stand Carter too? She didn't need him to be a decent human. She just needed to get through this hell without dying. And if joining his and Lordy's pact is what that took, she'd manage it somehow. Them being terrible people would just make it easier to stab them back if she needed to.

"Why, thank you, Carter," Jerica said, turning towards him. "And con-gar-tulations on winning the last round, you had the audience hook, line, and sinker. It was fin-tastic to watch you tip the scales in your favor to get the win o-fish-ally in your net. Bass-cally what I'm saying here is that I'm sure even more viewers are going to tuna-in from their perches to watch the tail end of this carp-y pun battle."

Lordy looked at the contestants in awe. He could tell neither one of them wanted to lose, they even seemed to have their own respective fan clubs lined up next to him.

But he wasn't going to pick sides, "Looks like this round is going to be quite competitive!" He giggled to himself, "With a crab-ital SEA."

Lordy made a mental note to marry himself when he got back home.