How To Shuffle

Spoiler

This is my entry to The BIG Random Story Theme Contest. I'm pretty sure it's not winning material and honestly, I am incapable of effectively proofreading my work. I'm pretty sure the actual story is equal to or less than 100 words (according to OpenOffice, it's equal to *sighs in relief*, but that means I can't add anything in.

I realised it feels very rushed towards the end because I realised I was coming close to the word limit, but I was unsure what I wanted to cut out. I just wanted to get it posted early-ish. I'll probably keep editing it until the deadline and figure out what to so about it before then, but for now, this is what I have and will submit if I don't manage to find some free time in the next few weeks.

Your story is about a Llama surgeon at the bottom of the ocean impersonating a monkey.

I was taking shallow breaths. With each breath came more pain-- more pain and less air. I wanted to wipe that bead of sweat off my forehead, but I couldn't. It I knew it would cost me my life. The blood in my head was pounding; I swore I could hear it. I could feel the heat beating down on me and the bright lights blinding me. The pressure was on. It was do or die.

Well, at least it was for the disturbingly green fish I was performing dorsal fin surgery on.

“Umm... Doctor? Do you want me to switch your oxygen pump back on? You kind of kicked it and... Well, I don't think you're getting any oxygen at the moment,” the oddly spiny-looking fish to my right told me.

It was a peculiar sight. The fish was talking to me. Of course, I wouldn't have expected anything else, but still, I have to admit it was pretty odd. I knew being transferred down here would mean working with these fish, but I must admit, it was very... interesting attempting to perform surgery with them.

“Yes please,” I replied in gasps.

The spined fish whose name escaped me opened the valve. I could feel the oxygen allowing my system to function again. No, I didn't have some 'condition'. I was a fine specimen. I mean, I couldn't provide you with a description of me. Well, I was an off-white colour, but that's the best I can do, and I had hair (although that is not helpful in any way...). Bottom line, I'm a llama and as I dearly hope you know, llamas don't live in water, not unless they lose a bet to their insane best friend. Note: llamas cannot eat a quarter of their body weight in chocolate OR dance.

Yes, I lived underwater... temporarily, before the incident that occurred that day. We preferred to call it an 'exchange'. No, there wasn't some fish out on land somewhere attempting to perform surgery on a llama. Let's just say my insane friend took care of him.

“Doctor Prymate! You must continue with this! This woman paid good money to get her fin enlarged!” another fish said to me. I didn't even bother to differentiate.

Hey, I never mentioned that I performed cosmetic surgery. I was still do or die time for that poor green fish (although I'd argue that she looked quite a sickly shade of green without my help). For one, I'd never done the surgery before. I'm also not a surgeon, but they don't know that. They'd never know. I mean, they hadn't even noticed the most obvious thing.

I wasn't not Doctor Prymate. Doctor Prymate is a primate. Me? I'm a llama, not so sure what we are (a mammal?), probably a reason why I also don't qualify for a surgeon. They all believed I was a monkey who came to replace their old surgeon who was a total baboon, literally. I thought they'd never notice. After all, those imbecilic water-dwellers had never seen a monkey before.

So anyway, I started the surgery and everything went according to plan: horribly. I was pretty sure their dorsal fins didn't bend that way...

I continued with the surgery, pretending I had done it a million times before, hoping that no one would realise that I was completely clueless. I mean, they were fish, right? If they were stupid to want to have some expensive and risky surgery to simply increase their aesthetic appeal, they would be gullible, right?

I was right. They had no idea that I had completely mucked up this procedure up. Well, technically, I couldn't because I made it up in order to impress them enough to finish this bet because frankly, I couldn't dance (in hindsight, walking into a human town and dancing would've been more wise).

I then realised that I had been looking at the cave ceiling for fifteen minutes or so while performing my fictional surgery. I nervously turned my head to face the green fish and met her angry gaze. The anesthetic was clearly wearing off, although I admit, the situation could've been worse. So next came the second step: run like hell.

I tried to run from brightly lit cave (I know, right?) they had set up for all of the superficial fish in the sea (well, at least tried to). With much difficulty (I wasn't designed to swim evidently...) I went... Nowhere. They all easily caught up with me with my sloth's pace in water. Actually, no. I was slower than a sloth. In fact, they didn't have to even catch me. I mean, an oxygen tank was holding me down as well and after all, they're fish.

“Umm... Doctor? What are you doing?” a fish that was an unnatural shade of purple asked.

“Er... I'm... SHUFFLING!” I said in a panicked voice.

Then, I began to... shuffle. It was mortifying. I mean, I'm not some professional critic, but I must say, I cannot dance. However, the the swiveling sea-dwellers didn't know this. I expected confused looks. Instead, they began their own dance as well; THEY WERE SHUFFLING.

I felt a warm feeling. I was a trend setter. Their natural dancing abilities astounded me. I didn't give them any instruction. They just... danced. What was more surprising was how good I was at dancing underwater. It all happened so quickly- within moments. I barely remember what happened next (I WASN'T under the influence), but it went until the day's end (a long time considering it started at 9am).

I have no idea what happened to that upset-looking green fish I was operating on, but I didn't really care. At some point, I managed to leave inconspicuously, but somthing occurred to me as I left. I could dance: I had just taught some fish how to shuffle.

Wow! I think that's the hardest theme the generator has ever come up with! All I can say is you did it justice to the degree you could. It was actually really funny! Well done for trying and I really enjoyed it - it was definately worth a read. Sorry for the rubbish review - I'm not feeling very 'reviewy' tonight. Anyways, Keep writing!
~ Amelia

Wow, this is pretty awesome. I actually laughed a little (and it is rare that I ever laugh during a comedic story, even one that others crack up at). I love the way you wrote it, and I like your idea. You could probably write a whole story on this.
The only thing to say would be: get rid of the "So anyway," in the 11th paragraph. It kind of got me "out" of the story in a way. It may be just me though. Good job and good luck.

Hello

A few things to change...

With much difficulty (I wasn't designed to swim evidently...) I went...Nowhere.

You don't need to use a capital here

However, the the swiveling sea-dwellers didn't know this.

but something occurred to me as I left.

Thats it

Well done I really enjoyed it. Keep writing

Okaaay firstly this was cute and very humorous. Good job doing the best with a pretty odd subject.

I wanted to wipe that bead of sweat off my forehead, but I couldn't. It I knew it would cost me my life.

Okay so a couple things wrong with this: one being I just don't think you'd notice a bead of sweat on your forehead under the ocean, unless you're maybe in a suit and since you didn't mention one it just doesn't seem right so maybe put an itch or something instead. And the second thing is the second sentence shouldn't have 'It' at the beginning .

It was a peculiar sight. The fish was talking to me. Of course, I wouldn't have expected anything else, but still, I have to admit it was pretty odd. I knew being transferred down here would mean working with these fish, but I must admit, it was very... interesting attempting to perform surgery with them.

So nothing big with this part it just felt repetitive reading "i have to admit" and "i must admit" in the same paragraph, you also use it again further on but i don't think it would stand out if you fix this part .

I was still do or die time for that poor green fish (although I'd argue that she looked quite a sickly shade of green without my help).

I think this could be worded better. Something like, 'It was still a do or die situation for the poor green fish...'

I wasn't not Doctor Prymate. Doctor Prymate is a primate.

It should be either 'I wasn't Dr. Prymate' or 'I was not Dr. Prymate'. And I just love that Dr. Prymate is a primate, I'm not sure why I love it I just do.

They all believed I was a monkey who came to replace their old surgeon who was a total baboon, literally. I thought they'd never notice. After all, those imbecilic water-dwellers had never seen a monkey before.

This just bothered me, if their prior doctor had been a baboon wouldn't they know pretty much what a monkey looks like? Or perhaps fish are just that stupid...

If they were stupid enough to want to have some expensive and risky surgery to simply increase their aesthetic appeal, they would be gullible, right?

I have to say I totally agree, fish who want bigger fins and are willing to get cosmetic surgery are very shallow and stupid.

I tried to run from the brightly lit cave (I know, right?) they had set up for all of the superficial fish in the sea (well, at least tried to).

So over all I liked it, it does need some things worked out it isn't as smooth as it could be but it's still good. I loved the image of the llama dancing under water the more you think about it the funnier it gets! Anyways I hope this was helpful and not too confusing. Keep writing!