The quest to banish the Ghetto Gremlin.
Well, it wasn’t so much of a quest as an epic battle.
It was a lovely Tuesday afternoon, somewhere other than Woodland. Despite the dreary surroundings I was riding in my chariot down the main street of my home town. My horse was as black as pitch and as fast as lightening, because even my animals must be ninja. (If you don’t realize how “ninja” can be used as an adjective, please ask your cool friends. ) My chariot was black, lined in silver, so that when I went around I looked like I was riding a lightening bolt. It’s the only way to travel when you’re the empress of a world. If you don’t make a statement wherever you go, people forget about you and start forming their own sorts of government and history shows us people are horrible at choosing their leaders, so really it’s a service I do riding around doing random things.
I try not to visit the town I grew up in. However, we all learned from The Lion King one cannot forget their past. And I remember it well, its ghetto. We called it “Little Mexico.” The list of things to do in Woodland is short; see a movie, go bowling, break the law, go out in the country and get smashed, leave. And people wonder why it has such a high teen birth rate.
They call it “historic” but it’s just old. Old and falling apart. I know nowhere more ghetto. And this fact made me wonder what exactly could be doing this, how could one town be so bad?
As I was sipping kiwi lemonade watching an infomercial about knives, trust me, no matter how rich or famous you are, everybody watches infomercials. I thinking about buying a set so I could cut open all my cans instead of using a stupid can opener, the answer stuck me. It was not 42 as I know many of you hitchhikers were thinking. Why would a number answer the problem of a town that can’t even read? The answer was the Ghetto Gremlin. I’d thought it was only a myth spread by parents who wanted to disappoint their children with crappy bedtime stories.
Then and there, I decided this: there was such thing as a ghetto gremlin, and it was living in Woodland. So there was nothing to do but summon my chariot to go battle this evil foe.
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),
Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!
Anyway let's get right to it,
Okay...that's an interesting character there to start with. There's a distinctively childish tone to the person, and even thought its clear we're talking about some sort of ruler of the land, something about the tone of the narration suggests this person can get a little childish especially with the way that horse was described there.
Hmm well that's an interesting sentiment there. It definitely manages to tell you quite a bit about this character though and how they think and how they actually see the world around them. It certainly gives us a bit of extra insight to their backstory too, so this is proceeding along quite nicely I think, in every aspect except delivering on that opening declaration that is. It should probably get some sort of reference by this point in the story.
Alright I'm guessing from this ending that this is only meant to the start here, so perhaps linking it back to the opening sentence isn't quite as necessary. It does also make for a good point to end on here I think, you've got enough sort of setting itself up that as the reader you do want to continue on and find out what happens next here.
Aaaaand that's it for this one.
As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.
Stay Safe
Harry
XD
Do you mean "hopped"?
And OMG! I love Dono's interjections and King Max's unbelievable idiocy of all things gremlin-like. XD
Oh, and unless you're an illegal drug...
It should be heroine.
Uh-huh have you listened to yourself at Rex's. Your a walking encyclopedia...
Catlyn your my hero, this story is great...
The paths were muddy from the low mist and my toga wasn’t staying pristine. So, like any heroin, I tore the bottom off to above my knee. It’s better for fighting anyway; I had more throwing knives strapped to my thighs and they’re much easier to get at than through 3 yards of draped fabric.
Max was striding ahead. His golden locks were undisturbed by the foreboding surroundings. Over one shoulder was his ax, polished and glimmering. I walked beside him, a throwing knife in each hand waiting for some undead thing to pop out and try and bite me. Dono was no where to be seen, or heard. He moved quietly among the tombstones around us, hoping for the element of surprise.
There was only one crypt left standing after the construction crews accidentally bulldozed during the huge party. Apparently “don’t drink and drive” meant nothing to them. I suppose they deserved to have died in their bulldozers. When nobody chickens out in a game of chicken, it’s everybody’s fault.
Purple smoke was rising from the crypt, spilling from every crack. Every now and then we saw lights flashing inside.
“This is so Wizard of OZ.” Max said, entranced by the show.
“Come on, and don’t breathe anything suspicious in.” I said as I pulled Max by the collar of his Zeppelin shirt.
“What’s considered suspicious? This air smells funny…” Max puffed his cheeks with air and held his breath. I rolled my eyes and continued to drag him toward the door.
I hoped Dono was backing me from somewhere as I walked up to the dilapidated wooden door. It had fallen off its hinges and was propped in the doorway. There was an opening toward the bottom the gremlin must have been using because moss had grown all over the door and sealed it to the walls of the tomb.
“Spooky,” I said excitedly. “What are you waiting for? Chop it open.” I turned to Max. His face was blue from holding his breath so long and he was about to pass out. I punched him in the abs, hoping it’d encourage him to breathe. It did, but he was too dizzy to stay standing. He sat on the nearest tombstone and put his head in his hands. At least for now, he was useless. I was going to have to take this villain on alone, that is unless Dono appeared from the shadows or something. For all I knew he was eaten by a wolf or zombie or something bad that roams cemeteries.
I kicked open the door, which shattered dramatically to splinters. As the Ghetto Gremlin attempted to escape through a crack in the wall I flung a knife at it. I heard it yelp, but the gremlin go away.
As I was about to sag my shoulders in defeat, I heard Dono’s stealthy battle cry. If you don’t know what a stealthy battle cry sounds like, you obviously haven’t been around ninjas enough, so just pretend you know what I mean.
*whimpers* I'm not that bad....am I?
The walls were stained with mold from moisture that dripped from the ceiling, also spotted with moisture. I whipped a knife at it as it scurried up the wall. It hit the strap of his purse. As it fell from his shoulder he snatched it with his foot and crawled into an air-duct. I wasn’t about to do the cliché thing and follow it through the air-ducts.
“That is one ugly dobby” Max said as he stared at the duct the gremlin had disappeared through.
“Dobby is a proper noun; he was a gnome in Harry Potter. That thing was gremlin,” Dono started his lecture. I rolled my eyes and got back on my chariot. This guy could spout information until the end of time.
“Well, whatever it was, it must not live here. I suppose elves have to shop for clothes too.” Max stated as he hoped on behind me.
“You did not just call a gremlin an elf!” Dono steamed. I pulled him onto the chariot with us as he began teaching Max about creatures of fantasy. In this case they were real… well, you know what I mean.
I left for the next place on our list of ghetto-ness.
As we arrived at the cemetery Dono had finished with the fey basics, and Max had a blank stare on his face as he looked through Dono. King Max shook the hair out of his face and replied with “I don’t watch gay porn” as he bounded to the ground.
Dono was practically fuming. I suggested he should save it for the real foe, knowing he wouldn’t listen.
The grass of the cemetery crunched under our feet, it hadn’t had water since the rain stopped. Trenches were dug between graves. They were meant for a sprinkler system, but funding ran out, rather everyone voted on putting the money toward a giant keg-er in the cemetery. Only 12 people broke their ankles on the trenches and were buried in where they fell. Dust and dirt and the stench of dead was everywhere. This was not a cemetery you visit. It was one step away from a mass grave.
Since we were in a cemetery, the traditional cemetery rules apply. The sun was down, an eerie fog was about and spooky shadows were everywhere. The horses were, of course, too scared to follow us in and we were on foot.
“To the tombs! That’s where I’d hide if I was an evil hobbit.” Max announced as he turned left on the path.
“First of all, they’re crypts and this massive sign says they’re this way” I said pointing straight up the misty, soggy stretch of dirt.
“I’m pretty sure they’re called mausoleums, and like I told you hobbits are quite different from gremlins. Do you even listen to me?” Dono huffed.
“I hope there’s treasure!” Max said as he blew past Dono and went the way I was pointing.
“He’s a lost soul. Lets just go vanquish the ghetto gremlin and become the heroes of Woodland.” I hugged Dono around the shoulders and led him down the path after Max.
Since appearance and impression is everything when you’re empress of the world, I wasn’t out the double doors right away. First I had my personal fashion designer whip me up something very… roman. Ok, so it was a toga, but it was the most beautiful toga ever made. An elegant length of deep purple cloth went over one shoulder and flew ever so gracefully in the wind as I drove my horse faster and faster.
Truthfully I’d rather have a winged horse, or even a unicorn, but we all know these animals don’t really exist… yet. However that is a whole other story.
Decked out in my spiffy threads, my hair in perfectly curled in those big curls that just fall perfectly over the shoulder and down the back, ninjas following me in the shadows, and King Max and Ninja Commander Dono on either side of me in their own chariots. It was midnight by the time all this was ready. But when you’re this important, people, gremlins, ninjas, they all wait.
Under the full moon we raced toward Woodland to defeat the Ghetto Gremlin. My ninjas are well trained, but there is no way they could possibly keep up, so they filled up my new AirBus and did the whole sky diving thing, which is okay for ninjas to do at night, since the whole place is a shadow and they don’t risk exposure. Of course the moon was full, but it only provided a more dramatic entrance. Ninjas need attention too.
We arrived on Main Street as the sun rose behind our backs giving us that nice silhouette. Dono, without word or gesture told the unseen ninjas around us to search the city for the Ghetto Gremlin, to look for the most ghetto spot, which would be his nest.
We all split up to search the small town. The ghetto mall, half the shops were closed or full of construction leftovers. It’s the only place to shop so everyone in Woodland ends up wearing the same thing. King Max went through the whole place with no luck and relayed this message to me and Dono through our super high tech chariots. We were all electronically linked with ear-buds that wirelessly connected us to the chariots. Dono reported an all clear for the roach-coaches… all 8 of them. As I was searching, or rather watching my ninja squad search the piles of clothes at one of Woodland’s dark, dank thrift stores, I saw it scurry up the wall. He was wearing thrift store underwear with nasty stains, a brown veil from a once beautiful wedding dress, and had a transvestite-turquoise purse that had most the sequins off. I hit the panic button on my chariot… no I don’t know how I got it into the store. It signaled Dono, Max, and all the ninjas searching the town.
I grabbed two of the throwing knives strapped to by ankles. I’ve never believed in a knife fight. Why would anyone want to be so close to someone with something so sharp? Throwing knives has never been recognized for its potential. However I’ve been practicing this art for quite some time… on moving targets… after sending 8 people to the emergency room, located next to the situation room, I started supplying them with more effective defense… well I started supplying them with defense. But now, I never miss.
Hopping out of my chariot I readied myself to attack. Arriving at the perfect moment for this epic battle was King Max with his battle ax/guitar and Lethal Dono with any number of concealed weapons and his hands and feet of course. They struck their battle stances as the rest of my ninjas flooded in and lined the walls to watch us defeat this deadly foe.
Is this how the story actually starts? It seemed kind of rough around the edges to me. Take out the How it all started:.
I believe you need a comma here.
This piece had a....quirky humor to it. I like your familiar style, but as Rei said (I believe), it seemed to be lacking in something. I think it was probably tbe humor or something.
As also stated before, I would like to see this piece go somewhere too.
Nice job!
Oh, and don't forget to add spaces between paragraphs. It makes things much easier to read!
You're right, damn, it is suppose to be 42. Well, thats what I get for writing at work
until Dono gets back on the wagon, I plann on continuting this eqic battle. Even though my writing is meh. Feel free to thrash it all you want.
Wasn't it forty-two?
Anyway, this was pretty amusing, but it seemed to be lacking in something. Either the humour didn't hit me the right way, or it was not as serious as I usually prefer.
I do, however, think you should go somewhere with this story.
XD
Hahaha... let us vanquish this ghetto gremlin! Who's with me?
Oh, and it should be "black-lined."