Posts Tagged ‘Satire’

14
Sep

Fentora

   Posted by: T-bird    in General Writing

 Fen glanced in the mirror. Still, there was nothing she could see with her God’s eye. She pushed the lock of auburn hair back into place and turned away quickly. After a moment, she fled the room, skin changing to fur as her body made the slow morph from human to fox. She was just about to run out an open door when something grabbed her collar. With a “yip,” she turned around to see her captor.

Once more, there was her father. “Trying to run away again?” he asked.

Fen quickly shook her head and returned to human form, the collar looking less like a collar and more like a chain-link necklace. “I wasn’t! I promised!”

“Perhaps you weren’t trained enough…” he mumbled, pulling her into the lab.

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11
Mar

Just One More…

   Posted by: T-bird    in General Writing

            The man surveyed the luscious forest, full of bright green foliage.  It was the absolute perfect location for his new multiplex.  He pulled out his large ax from the back of his pick up and walked into the woods.

            Animals scattered quickly, frightened by this strange new man.

            He let out a hearty laugh.  Swinging his ax, he called out to them, “It is just one tree!  It will not be your death!” he assured them before going back to chopping.  The mighty tree fell, and he left took it away.

            “We need to do something about this.  Need to, need to, need to!” the squirrel chattered.

            “Now, now, dear squirrel.  It was just a single tree.  All will be well,” promised the owl.  With that, the animals returned to their normal life.

            The next day, the ax man returned, plump as ever and, once more, chopped down a tall oak tree.  “It is just one tree!” he shouted, dragging it away as he had the day before.

            “I still say we need to do something something something!” the squirrel complained.

            “It was just one tree, dear squirrel.  Leave the man be,” the owl reiterated.

            This went on for many days.  Each day, the ax man returned and chopped down a single tree.  He was growing larger while the forest animals were growing smaller.  It had gotten to the point where there was but a single tree left in the forest.

            “Whooo, whooo can do something about this?” the owl wailed as he flew.  There was no longer a branch for him to perch on.

            The squirrel scampered down the tree trunk.  “Let’s do this, do this, do this!” he yelled, jumping onto the back of the deer.

            The ax man’s truck sputtered up once more, making the air extremely smoggy.

            The squirrel followed the ax man right into town.  “So…  Take our trees trees trees, will they?” he mumbled.  He continued to follow the man until they were in the man’s yard.  When he saw the man put the ax down in the shed, he ran in and snatched it before the man could even notice.

            With the ax in hand, he began to chop the man’s house.  “Take our trees, will you?” he complained.  “Let’s see how you like it without your home!”  It fell with a burst of dust.

            This delighted the squirrel, so he did it to another home and another until the entire city had fallen.  Both animals and humans were forced to relocate, having both learned their lesson:  the animals need their homes, and so do the humans.

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17
Feb

Malaria Man Versus the Mad Cow Disease Monster

   Posted by: T-bird    in General Writing

 

“Pi equals 3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820-”

“ENOUGH, Malcolm,” Mr. Amon said, holding up a hand. “You got it right. I only needed to know the first three digits.”

“I thought you said three HUNDRED…” Malcolm admitted, running a hand through his bright green hair. He gently adjusted his wide-rimmed glasses in front of his likewise green eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

Behind Malcolm, a group of girls began to whisper amongst themselves. “Nerd…” “Teacher’s pet…” “Monotonous Malcolm…”

He let out a deep sigh. The clock just couldn’t tick fast enough. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the clock, willing the hands to move.

“Malcolm Eukary to the principal’s office,” a voice crackled over the intercom.

“He’s on his way,” Mr. Amon said, motioning Malcolm toward the doors. He nodded and went on his way.

He knew it wasn’t really the principal calling him down. His friend, Elleinad, had found a way to tap into the PA system and had come up with that code fraise. What it really meant was, “Malaria Man get your butt out of there now!” Malcolm took off the nerdy glasses and stuck them in his pocket.

“About time you got here,” a befuddled girl said as she paced back and forth.

“Well sorry, Elleinad. It’s kind of hard to get out of the school undetected,” Malcolm replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Down to business, Malaria Man. There’s been sightings of some kind of creature spreading what we believe to be Mad Cow Disease. It’s up to you to stop it!” Elleinad commanded.

“Aye, aye captain!” he said with a mock salute. His body shifted into a much smaller form, resembling a large green worm. A red cape blew in the breeze behind him. “Disease or not disease. That is the question!”

“Knock it off, Malaria Man! Just get out there!”

 

Malaria Man flew to the city with an alarmingly fast rate. He hated it when other diseases came into his territory. At least he didn’t spread if he stayed out of contact with humans and water. Mad Cow Disease was different. It was more reckless, infecting entire farms without giving it a second thought. He’d have to stop him.

Once he reached the center of town, he came across the Mad Cow Disease Monster. It was of a similar size, but it was white with black cow spots.

“Ah, Malaria Man! I was wondering when you’d get here!” it laughed, focusing it’s gaze on him. “Care to dance?”
“Be serious! What kind of villain dances before death?” Malaria Man laughed.

“Fine! Don’t take me seriously!” He shot out millions of deathly microbes at him. Malaria Man did the same in retaliation.

The battle went on for days, neither disease getting the upper hand. The firing stopped and the two looked around.

“Huh… Looks like everyone’s dead,” Maria Man noted, noticing that his disease had spread into the waters.

“It appears so…” Mad Cow Disease Monster said, looking at the dead cows. Some had been eaten by the humans: another cause of death.

“Wanna go get a coffee?” Malaria Man asked, returning to his human form with green spiky hair. “Name’s Malcolm Eukary, by the way.”

“Sure. Mine’s Bo Vine,” Mad Cow Disease Monster said, also turning into a human form. He had pail white skin with sloppy black hair. “Let’s go!”

And so the two walked off to go get some coffee in the apocalyptic world they created.

The End!

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13
Nov

“Swine” Flu

   Posted by: T-bird    in General Writing

Selfish pigs. That’s what everyone in this world was being. Selfish pigs. Day after day, I slaved over my cauldron making cures for the people of Ibersa, but did anyone ever thank me for my potions? I think not! Selfish pigs. Dreary day after dreary day would roll by, and still not a single person ever came back to show even a speck of gratitude! I’ll show them… I’ll show them all! Selfish pigs.

I remember the day well. The golden sun of Ibersa sent its strands of light down to our quaint little village. It was not hot, nor was it cold. The weather was just right. That is, if you liked a perfect day. I, for one, did not. My shades blocked out every shaft of the golden light.

I was just finishing my last batch of tonics from scratch. The main ingredient used in all of my remedies was garlic. In Ibersa, garlic has long been regarded as a good luck charm and a guard against many ailments. For what reason, I do not know. As long as I can make a living off it, however, I do not care.

After bottling the last of the brew, I sat down in my old oak rocker and ran a comb through my waves of lilac hair. It was not yet time for my customers to arrive, so I spent the time pondering. Why did I make these cures? Why did I help these ungrateful people? Was I really doing anyone any good?

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “My wares are not for sale yet!” I called back to them. , they continued to knock. Aggravated, I got up from my rocker and opened the door.

When I looked down, I noticed a small werewolf standing there. He barely even reached my hips when it came to height, and he was extremely malnourished. His dull grey eyes blinked up at me. “Please, Elina, please. Might I have some of your potion for my dear, sick mother? Every night, she howls to the moon with pain. She cannot supply for my anymore. Please, Elina. Please help me.”

I scowled at the boy. I knew there was no way he’d pay for this elixir, and I certainly wouldn’t give it to him for free. “Little vagabond! Get out of here!” I shouted at him.

His canine ears flattened on the top of his childish head. “Please, Elina,” he whimpered. “I know I cannot pay you, but my mother needs it!”

With a goaded sigh, I brought him a vial of the off-white mixture. So maybe at first I didn’t want to give it to him, but I knew if I didn’t give it to him now, I’d have to listen to his whimpering the whole time. “Here. Give her this and all will be well. Now go home,” I told him.

He took the vial from me, smiled, and ran off without a single word of thanks. I do not believe he saw me watching him as he left, but I was. He scampered over to a man who was leaning against one of the buildings. After handing the vial to the man, he took what looked to be a few doros. The werewolf happily took the money from the man and ran off.

“For your dear, sick mother indeed…” I mumbled. That was the end of it. I was truly fed up with the Ibersans. I went over to my spell book and leafed through the pages. “Here’s a good one…” I mumbled. It was entitled “Swine Flu”. The abbreviated ingredients were “H1 N1”. It was a simple translation, really: one hog’s tail and one newt’s tail. Mixed together with some of my secret ingredients, this was a rather dangerous concoction.

I quickly made the new potion, pouring it into the many vials that had been filled with the remedies. Everyone who would come to get the mixture today would surely be in for a surprise…

It was late into the night when I gave the last vial of Swine Flu out and shut my door to the Ibersans. Soon, oh yes, very soon, they would all be pigs as they truly were. I sat back in my rocker, waiting for my plan to unfold. Then, there was a knock on the door.

“I am out of stock for the day!” I called over.

There was no real response, just another knock.

“Go away!” I shouted.

Again, there was a knock.

Aggravated, I got up and opened the door. “I said g-” I stopped mid-sentence. Before me stood nothing more than a tiny pig, it was just a little swine. A smile crept onto my face.

The pig looked up at me. “I know you did this,” it hissed at me, its voice still its owner’s.

My smile instantly faded. “I must have left out an ingredient…” I mumbled to myself. Pigs weren’t supposed to talk!

“The whole city knows what you did, Elina,” the pig told me, walking into my home. “They have already begun to research a cure.”

“Let them search. The cure will never be found, though,” I replied tartly. I fumbled through my spell book, but I couldn’t find how to get rid of their voices. Quickly, I shut the book and shooed the pig outside. “I am the only one who knows the cure.” With that said, I shut the door.

I returned to the rocker and sat there, staring out the window. Maybe the potion had not gone exactly the way I would have hoped for, but I got what I had always wanted: I was alone and no one would bother me. That seemed good enough, so I was content… for the time being.

Days passed by, and nothing much happened. No one came to see me or ask for my potions. No one passed by more door. I was simply ostracized, left in my own little world… until a vaccine came out.

As it turned out, the potion did not have to be ingested to take affect on people. Anyone who was too near one of my swine would catch the flu as well. Luckily, I knew the cure and had made the necessary precautions, and I did not catch it.

The people who discovered the vaccine did not have any time to test it, but they urged everyone to get the shot. Unless, of course, they wanted to turn into pigs. Many, but not all, rushed out immediately to get the shot. With the vaccine out, they decided it was time to seek out revenge on me. Fortunately for me, the injections had a rather… dissatisfying result. In fact, it was deadly. Everyone who got the vaccine died within the next two days.

It was a week or so after the vaccine was administered that the knock came to my door. “I am out of stock!” I called over.

The only response I received was a moan.

“Please leave! I am out of stock!” I shouted again.

Once more, I received only a moan.

“That’s enough! I’ve told you to leave, now leave!” I hissed, getting up from my rocker and pushing the door open. I gasped.

Before me stood a group of Ibersans, though there was something strange about them. I always knew they were mindless, but even they were never this mindless. Before me stood not the typical werewolves and faeries and other creatures of Ibersa, but living zombies! I quickly shut the door and locked it.

The zombies were scratching at my house, making horrible sounds with their nails and claws as they scraped against my windows. It didn’t look like they could get in, but they were surely an annoyance.

Without another thought, I ran to my bookshelf and took down the cumbersome spell book. Once on my table, I began to flip through the pages.

“Cures… Cures… Cures…” I mumbled. I couldn’t locate anything about curing zombification. “Hm… life…” I flipped to the section on giving life. “You’re kidding me…”

In front of me lay the cure for the citizens’ self-inflicted zombification. It was the same cure I had been using for everything: the oh-so-powerful garlic.

I looked up from my spell book and noticed that the zombies were beginning to break down my door. A few rotting hands and paws punched their way through the wood. I didn’t have much time to work.

Hastily, I rushed over to my supplies and pulled out a large bag of garlic. I dumped it into my cauldron along with the rest of my secret ingredients and began to stir it rapidly. When I glanced up, I saw that the door had been busted down and the zombies were trudging into the house, moaning loudly. One got so near to me that I could see the decay of his skin and smell the rot of his breath.

Without thinking, I grabbed the cauldron by the handles and dumped it, sending my concoction flying out at the zombies. They all fell down after being drenched by the green liquid. It appeared as though, slowly, they were receiving life back into their bodies: skin and muscle knitted back together; dismembered body parts began growing back. Within minutes, the Ibersan zombies were once again regular Ibersans.

They were in a daze as they looked at me, but they quickly came out of it. There were various accusations being made at the same time. “You’ve poisoned our people!” “We’re all going to die!” “Down with Elina!”

“Please calm down, Ibersans,” I told them, keeping my voice calm. “I can see now that I what I have done to you was wrong. If you will let me, I will correct this.” I had already begun to mix the cure for the Swine Flu.

There were various murmurs from the crowd. Then, a tiny werecat stepped forward and looked up at me. “It wasn’t her fault,” she said, cocking her head to the side innocently. “We never thanked her. We were never nice to her.” She looked truly sad.

“She’s right. You all were pigs,” I told them, looking up from my cauldron. “I slave over this cauldron every day making you your little remedies, but not once have any of you gone out of your way to give so much as a thanks.”

They looked at me blankly for a minute, but then what I said sunk in. They bowed their heads, sorrowfully.

“Give this to all of the people who have turned into pigs. They’ll return to normal.” I passed out vials of the new mixture.

They took the potions and left. Once everyone was gone, I decided it was time for me to leave as well. I packed up my things, looking one last time at Ibersa. “So long, Ibersans,” I whispered as I walked off into the night.

As I walked away, I could have sworn I heard a small voice say, “Thank you.”

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