Carnevil
Original Young Adult Fiction
Written by The Funk Mistress
Part Three
“Let’s go to the midway. It might be safer for us. Maybe we’ll even win some fish!” said Super Fly the Wise Guy.
“How about the game where you shoot water into the clown’s mouth?” asked DJ Fuji the Man Scout.
The Funk Mistress tried to suppress a giggle.
“You’re sick, man,” DJ Fuji reacted.
“Oh please! Think about it! In theory, that’s a really sick game! And Skee-Ball, too! Did Joe D. Bauchery make these games? I can’t even believe they let kids in here,” The Funk Mistress replied, dejectedly.
“Look the clown game. Let’s go.” Super Fly pointed at the controversial game.
Everyone grabbed a water gun and began to play.
“Ugh! What’s that smell? DJ Fuji, did you have Meat Lover’s Pizza before you came here?!” asked DJ Benvenuto the Raccoon in disgust.
“No! Oh man, Meta-Guy is using octane to play!” DJ Fuji screeched.
“Octane?” asked The Funk Mistress’s Funk apprentice Pril. “What’s that?”
“Gasoline, you Hulk Smash!”
Suddenly, the balloon popped, sending Meta-Guy into a frenzy. In self-defense, Meta-Guy began to use his laser eyes. Now we shall learn another violent combination.
“It burns! It burns! Why – Why was I programmed to feel pain?!”
“Because I, your maker, am a damn good scientist! Who’s your daddy?!” said Guy the Manager.
All of a sudden Hulk Smash came along, as if he had just appeared out of thin air, and exclaimed, “Wait! I don’t feel pain! Hulk Smash!”
“Hulk hold breath long time.”
“But what about the effects it has on your body? Every second your body is in direct contact with the ambient gases in this trans-dimensional space, your chromosomes are slowly eaten away at. You should be brain damaged by now!”
“What?”
“I see this place has already taken its toll on you. Hold on to the back of my ship. I will tow you home.”
Hulk Smash grabbed ahold of the ship and they were off.
“I only hope re-entry doesn’t kill you. I say, what year are you from my
boy? You are a boy, right?”
“One, two... a lot. Hulk run out of testicles. Can’t count that high.”
“I suppose I should just leave you here. But no. I must return you. Let’s see. Hmm. I’ve got some booze and time’s not going anywhere. Ahh, what the heck.”
“You’re sick, man,” DJ Fuji reacted.
“Oh please! Think about it! In theory, that’s a really sick game! And Skee-Ball, too! Did Joe D. Bauchery make these games? I can’t even believe they let kids in here,” The Funk Mistress replied, dejectedly.
“Look the clown game. Let’s go.” Super Fly pointed at the controversial game.
Everyone grabbed a water gun and began to play.
“Ugh! What’s that smell? DJ Fuji, did you have Meat Lover’s Pizza before you came here?!” asked DJ Benvenuto the Raccoon in disgust.
“No! Oh man, Meta-Guy is using octane to play!” DJ Fuji screeched.
“Octane?” asked The Funk Mistress’s Funk apprentice Pril. “What’s that?”
“Gasoline, you Hulk Smash!”
Suddenly, the balloon popped, sending Meta-Guy into a frenzy. In self-defense, Meta-Guy began to use his laser eyes. Now we shall learn another violent combination.
Meta-Guy + Gasoline + Laser eyes = DANGER WILL ROBINSON! DANGER!
“It burns! It burns! Why – Why was I programmed to feel pain?!”
“Because I, your maker, am a damn good scientist! Who’s your daddy?!” said Guy the Manager.
All of a sudden Hulk Smash came along, as if he had just appeared out of thin air, and exclaimed, “Wait! I don’t feel pain! Hulk Smash!”
With that, Meta-Guy picked up Hulk Smash* and broke him in half on his head.
Hulk Smash will be missed. Not really.
Another fiery inferno in the life of RIA.
It’s to be expected though.
In the world of RIA, there’s a fine line between lunacy and Riaopiaism.
Hulk Smash, as we all know, is very stupid, and very strong. This is not necessarily good. Okay, so it’s bad. Very, very bad. But it makes for a good story.
One day, Hulk Smash was chasing a pretty butterfly.
But the butterfly got away from our lumbering Goliath. In a fit of rage, Hulk Smash pounded the air. With his mammoth (hmm, mammoth strength; too bad he didn’t have the same brain capacity) he ripped a hole in the space-time continuum.
Now, most people would have run fleeing from the cheesy looking sight of a hole in the air, but not Hulk Smash. He dove right into that gaping hole, and got into a whole mess of trouble.
“Pretty colors! Hulk like... Hulk like!”
Suddenly, a proper looking British man in a strange looking contraption floated by.
“G’day my boy! I see you’ve discovered the secrets of time travel. Cheers my boy! Kudos to you! My name is Wells. H.G. Wells.”
“What?”
“I must explain this to you. If you cross the corresponding parallel vector fields going at approximately 30,000 miles an hour at an angle of 43.2899 degrees, the velocity of the entry field will be too much for your traveling device to withstand. Uh, by the way. Where is your traveling device? Oh, I know. It’s invisible, isn’t it?”
“Hulk no have... what you say?”
“A traveling device. Some sort of machine to ride in. You know. A time machine or something of the sort. If you have no time machine, how can you breathe in this atmosphere?”
Another fiery inferno in the life of RIA.
It’s to be expected though.
In the world of RIA, there’s a fine line between lunacy and Riaopiaism.
*In case you’re wondering where Hulk Smash came from, I suppose it’s
time to branch off into another story and explain why Hulk Smash just
appeared out of nowhere.
___
Hulk Smash, as we all know, is very stupid, and very strong. This is not necessarily good. Okay, so it’s bad. Very, very bad. But it makes for a good story.
One day, Hulk Smash was chasing a pretty butterfly.
But the butterfly got away from our lumbering Goliath. In a fit of rage, Hulk Smash pounded the air. With his mammoth (hmm, mammoth strength; too bad he didn’t have the same brain capacity) he ripped a hole in the space-time continuum.
Now, most people would have run fleeing from the cheesy looking sight of a hole in the air, but not Hulk Smash. He dove right into that gaping hole, and got into a whole mess of trouble.
“Pretty colors! Hulk like... Hulk like!”
Suddenly, a proper looking British man in a strange looking contraption floated by.
“G’day my boy! I see you’ve discovered the secrets of time travel. Cheers my boy! Kudos to you! My name is Wells. H.G. Wells.”
“What?”
“I must explain this to you. If you cross the corresponding parallel vector fields going at approximately 30,000 miles an hour at an angle of 43.2899 degrees, the velocity of the entry field will be too much for your traveling device to withstand. Uh, by the way. Where is your traveling device? Oh, I know. It’s invisible, isn’t it?”
“Hulk no have... what you say?”
“A traveling device. Some sort of machine to ride in. You know. A time machine or something of the sort. If you have no time machine, how can you breathe in this atmosphere?”
“Hulk hold breath long time.”
“But what about the effects it has on your body? Every second your body is in direct contact with the ambient gases in this trans-dimensional space, your chromosomes are slowly eaten away at. You should be brain damaged by now!”
“What?”
“I see this place has already taken its toll on you. Hold on to the back of my ship. I will tow you home.”
Hulk Smash grabbed ahold of the ship and they were off.
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“One, two... a lot. Hulk run out of testicles. Can’t count that high.”
“I suppose I should just leave you here. But no. I must return you. Let’s see. Hmm. I’ve got some booze and time’s not going anywhere. Ahh, what the heck.”
With that, H.G. Wells began to pull bottles of centuries-old booze out of
the back seat of his time machine when Hulk Smash suddenly shouted, “Hey!”
“What?” H.G. Wells responded, startled.
“Don’t mix Gatorade and milk!” Hulk Smash exclaimed.
“What?”
“It tastes bad!”
Holding a bottle of his time travelling booze in hand, H.G. Wells stared at
Hulk Smash, confused. And then he noticed Hulk Smash’s ear tag.
“What’s this say? ’If found please return to June 15, 2001’. That must be
what time you’re from! Well then, I suppose I should take you back. No booze
tonight. Sigh...”
Tune in next week for part four of RIA’s amazing adventure,
Carnevil.
Note
On the off chance that I melt from the extreme heat of the Miami
climate, I leave all my earthly possessions to the winner of a twelve
round, no holds barred, submissions match.
WWF baby!
WWF baby!
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