Excerpt: Straw

Note from the author (which totally counts as Word Count):

What follows a is a silly, nonsensical adventure of a young girl named Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates who is too good for pronouns and the adventures she has after following down an open man-hole cover after her rabid/psychotic poodle, who does not appear later in the story until the author decides it’s time to end the bloody thing and, like all good stories that don’t deserve sequels, must wrap up all loose ends quite nicely. Anyone attempting to find meaning, theme, plot, or value in this story will be greatly disappointed and will lose all sanity (although for picking this book up we can already assume the latter is gone). The authoress greatly recommends reading the book twice for two reasons—one is so that you can skip over the silly and usually very unnecessary asides that were added all for the sake of Word Count (that mighty god/deity/holy entity which lords over the month of November and all who dare doom themselves to the exercise in self-caused torture known loving as NaNoWriMo (or National Novel Writing Month since that name in and of itself is a fantastic waste of words). The second reason, of course, is so that you’re so crazy by the time you’re done reading that you won’t realize she’s swindled you out of ten-or-so dollars on this waste of time and ideas.
So please enjoy, and remember to always keep your marbles in an air-tight water-tight container safe and far away from yourself and tip your waitresses. And cows.

~The Author

Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates walked down the busy New York City streets—located conveniently in the state of New York which was conveniently located on the Eastern side of the United States of America on the North American continent (south of Canada and north of Central America which contained such famous countries as Mexico, Zimbabwe, Guatemala, Brazil, the Yucatan, and Russia [not all countries correct and/or researched the authoress wants to mention]) in the generally accepted Western Hemisphere—trying not to step in anything Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates considered “icky” with Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ brand-new-brand-name-pink-high-heels-just-like-the-models-wear-except-for-small-children-because-they-can’t-fit-into-shoes-like-the-models-wear Fashionista Barbie (trademark) high-heel shoes. Ahead of Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates was Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ white poodle name Mr. Prissy, whom the vets told Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ was actually a girl but Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates ignored them all. Everyone who saw Mr. Prissy thought he was rabid what with his wild, crazy eyes and foam-flecked lips, but Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates would just laugh with Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ high little voice and assure them that he wasn’t rabid—he was just psychotic.
The sounds and smells and shouts of the city assaulted Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ precious little senses, the dirt crawling up the buildings and progressing slowly up Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ shoes—Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates was sure of it. People crowded around, ignoring the eight year-old girl in Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ bright pink puffy dress like the princess wear, the tightly-bound curls on either side of Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ head that made it look like gold tornados were hugging Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ face (the author says you should look up a girl named Elizabeth from the Japanese manga (Japan is a country in the generally accepted Eastern hemisphere of the world, very close to the Western hemisphere. “Manga” is a silly term the Japanese people (the people living in Japan) call their graphic novels, which is really just a fancy term for comic book used by people who are easily offended by the use of “comic book” [like the author] for anything that isn’t a twelve-page brightly colored and usually poorly drawn American collection of paper sold for a dollar or less) Kuroshitsuji [which translates to “Black Butler” in English], and adorable little face with Red #22 Barbie-don’t-you-want-to-look-like-me?! blush rouge painted liberally onto Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ cherub cheeks. Mr. Prissy got plenty of looks, though.
Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates walked down the street, looking all around her. New York really was ugly. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates didn’t like it. Sure, the tall buildings with all the glass windows were pretty, but Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates didn’t like the rest of it. There were too many ugly, yucky people for Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ taste.
A hobo suddenly bumped into her, making Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ let go of Mr. Prissy’s leash in surprise. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates gave a cry of dismay and tore after Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ dog, who had instantly run away as if the devil was on his heels. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates chased after Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ little dog, tripping over the edge of Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ long pink dress and going head-long into the street.
“Mr. Prissy!” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates screeched. As if Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates was the main character of a story—or a Mary Sue (which here means a character who’s absolutely perfect and unrelatable because no one has that many good things going for Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ and everything good that can happen does her)—even though Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates ran into the middle of a busy New York street not a single car even came so close to Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ as to make Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ perfectly sculpted—and natural, of course—hair move even the slightest inch. And the cars didn’t slow down, either.
What a terrifically lucky young woman.
Mr. Prissy dove under the orange warning table-horse-thingies around the construction site of a man-hole cover and with a yelp began to tumble into the black abyss below.
“MS. PRISSY!” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates cried in terror. Without thinking Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates dove after the dog and with a terrible scream began to fall after him.
Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates landed hard on her bottom, though Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ dress was so puffy and wide that it caught her with no impact to her dear little posterior at all.
As if she was the main character of a story, perhaps.
Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates dusted Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ self off and looked around. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates was in a mysterious world Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates had never seen before; tall boulders of a dark gray color surrounded Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates and there was no hole of light where the top of the man-hole cover should have been.
“I am in a mysterious world where there are large boulders and no light from man-hole covers,” she observed. “I must be in a magical other world I’ve never been to before.”
“Well you certainly got that faster than most people,” a young boy’s voice came from behind a boulder. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates gasped in surprise and turned around. A dirty little boy her age with blue hair was standing behind her, clutching a black-brown teddy bear to his chest with one arm, his gray-brown shirt ripped at the edges and his shorts a mess. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates had never seen darker feet.
“Who are you?” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates asked, remembering that it was always good manners to ask the name of a new and mysterious stranger. The boy smiled arrogantly and pointed to himself with his thumb.
“I’m Luke.” There was a pause, and then Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates decided to ask quite courageously,
“Is that all?”
“It’s more than you are!” he said vilipendingly (which according to the person who made the author use this word means something akin to “in an arrogant or contemptous fasion” but is not actually word for word correct because she is too lazy to find out), cackling wildly. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates eyed him warily.
“Where am I?” she demanded. Luke gestured around them, at the pitch-black sky and the great gray boulders.
“You said so yourself—a mysterious world you’ve never been to before.”
“Where is this place? What is it’s name?” she demanded again. Luke rolled his eyes and jumped off the boulder he was standing on, skidding down a steep slope of shale and stopping right in front of her.
“This place is called the Land of the Black Sky and the Great Big Gray Boulders.”
“Really?” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates asked in awe.
“Of course not!” Luke said, laughing again. “You’re really stupid.”
“No I am not!” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates retorted, stamping Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ foot down angrily. This sent Luke into further hysterics. He fell to the ground and stayed there laughing, covering his eyes with the hand holding his teddy bear and pointing the other hand at Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates.
“Where is this place really?!” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates demanded. Luke wiped a tear from his eye and gestured around them again with the hand not holding his teddy bear.
“This place is Wheatieland,” he said seriously. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates eyed him again.
“Really?”
“Yes. Although you can technically call it anything you want, because it doesn’t have a name.” He burst out laughing and Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates glared at him angrily, puffing out Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ cheeks.
“You should have just said that from the beginning!” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates said angrily. Luke burst out laughing again.
“I could have, but that would be no fun.” He stood up again and smiled at Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates. “You’re stupid, but I like you. What’s your name?”
“Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates,” she said arrogantly. Luke snorted.
“Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates? That is the absolute most ridiculous name I’ve ever heard of in my life. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates? Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates? Ew, what a mouthful! That sounds like something a lazy author would create just to get more word count and make you look bad (like a Mary Sue)!”
Out of the nowhere the proverbial drum-cymbal crash of a bad joke floated through the air.
Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates turned Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ nose up at him and glared at him through narrowed eyes.
“I like my name!” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates said seriously. Luke snorted.
“I bet you do. Tell you what, I’ll just call you Mary Sue from now on. And so will the author, because she is sick and tired of typing your name even if all she does is hit control-V now.”
“Command-V,” Mary Sue said trying to sound smart. “The author uses a Mac.”
“She’s typing this at school right now, so no she doesn’t.”
“Ah, point taken,” Mary Sue said.
Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates looked around, and in horror realized that Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ little dog was no where to be found.
“My little dog is no where to be found!” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates cried, terrified that Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ little dog was no where to be found. “Wherever could he be that he can’t be found?! Is he gadding about?!” (The author would like to point out that “gad” [a verb that apparently means to “wander aimlessly in search of pleasure” and has a ninety-nine percent chance of being conjugated incorrectly] is not a word she would ever normally use, but was forced by means of the National Novel Writing Month Multiple Liasons [because God knows writing NaNoWriMo ML’s is just missing a chance to waste good words]).
“Oh the author got annoyed of him,” Luke said, picking his teeth with a conveniently placed tooth-pick, the spider/teddy bear dangling from the crook of his right arm. He was leaning diagonally against a large boulder, his foot planting him firmly to another stone. He was the picture of coolness. “The author figured he would be really, really annoying to type for, so Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates got rid of him.”
“Ah,” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates sad sadly. “Sad face.”
“Indeed.” Mary Sue looked around and frowned.
“This world is so cold. I want to go back home up to where it’s sunny and warm and my father will buy me expensive gifts with money he gets from exploiting people.” Mary Sue looked around and looked at Luke pleadingly. “Please take me home!” Luke looked at his fingernails, then shrugged.
“I’m bored, so why not?” Mary Sue gave a cry of glee and jumped on him, hugging him tightly. Luke cried in horror and flailed wildly like a fish.
“Let go of me! You’ll get cooties all over me! Ew, yuck! What’s wrong with you?!” He threw her off and started hopping up and down wildly, sticking his tongue out in distaste.
“How rude!” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates shouted, picking Maru Sue’s self up off the rocky ground. “How can you treat a lady like that?!”
“You’re not a lady—you’re just a yucky cootie-ridden girl,” he said, hopping like a mountain goat (a large mammal with enormous horns that curl against the side of its head [much like Mary Sue’s hair except actually not] that tends to hop quite dexterously from boulder to boulder up in high mountains and is a clever metaphor/simile/cliché that is well over-used) from rock to rock until he was at least a good twenty feet away (which is twice as long as ten feet away but only half as far as forty feet away). Mary Sue “hmphed!” indignantly and turned Mary Sue’s back on him, sticking Mary Sue’s smug little nose in the air.
“Well you’re just an icky boy with black feet and a stupid teddy bear!” she said haughtily. Luke looked at his teddy bear and then back at her.
“This isn’t a teddy bear you stupid girl,” he snapped. “It’s a six-foot tall eight-legged spider that works as a disciple under Satan Bunny, the most evil manifestation of evil (and cotton candy) to ever terrorize this world, who lives in a giant castle made of pink crystal that used to be on the highest peak of the tallest mountain of the tallest mountain range in the entire world, until it fell down one day and rolled into the lowest valley in the lowest part of the world and now it sits there surrounded by an ever-lasting mist of pink cotton candy that’s so sweet and sugary it’ll melt your face off and the crystals are so dense it’s like walking into a grater. The end.” Mary Sue stared at the boy for a second, but there was no doubt on his dirty little face that his words were a hundred percent completely true (which seemed a shame since one-hundred-ten percent has such a nice ring to it).
“You’re crazy.”
“Indeed.” Mary Sue stared at him again. “You might want to put your nose down, cootie girl, or else a bird will come and try to snatch your nose.”
“That’s nonsense!” Mary Sue cried. With an enormous screech a ten-foot tall bird with black feathers along its back and cream-colored feathers along its belly with black-brown spots two, three, five, five-point-seven, nine, ten, and forty centimeters away from its side with a yellow beak and eyes as large as medium tea saucers (which were much larger than small tea saucers but much smaller than large tea saucers) and a British accent screamed out of the sky and swiped at Mary Sue’s face with its talons, narrowly missing it and sending Mary Sue into screaming hysterics of fear. Mary Sue “hit the deck” (a phrase meaning to throw one’s body to the floor commonly used on ships to avoid cannonball fire from rival pirates [or so the author has been lead to think]) and rolled around on the rocks, screaming Mary Sue’s precious little head off. Now that Mary Sue’s nose wasn’t sticking up in the air like that of an obnoxious snob’s, the large bird with the brown and black feathers and the cream belly and the dots and the beak and the talons and the British accent seemed to lose interest and winged away. Mary Sue looked around for Luke, wondering why the nasty, dirty, icky little boy hadn’t helped Mary Sue at all only to discover that he was still twenty feet away, laughing hysterically and rolling around in the shale pile he had skidded down only a couple of paragraphs before.
“You’re terrible!” Mary Sue cried, slamming Mary Sue’s fists against Mary Sue’s hips indignantly (which is a word the author uses quite a lot for snobby little children who think they’re too good for whatever situation the author has decided to stick them in). “I feel indignant!” she said indignantly with an indignant look on her indignant face that made the author feel rather indignant at the blatant and consummately (which is like “completely” except that the author didn’t want to use it twice indignant) incorrect and completely indignant use of the word “indignant” that could be considered indignant blasphemy all in the indignant name of the indignant god named Word Count who was feeling rather indignant at the indignantly poor use of the word “indignant” as well.
The Word Count says “indeed”.
“Who cares what you feel?” Luke said, laughing as he pushed himself up. “If you’re going to go about sticking your nose up into the air like an indignant and obnoxious snob then you’ll have to get used to people trying to steal it! … Why do I feel a running joke coming on with the word ‘indignant’?”
Because one is, Luke. It is.
Luke obtained the class: “Author’s Brain” – You always seem to know what the author is thinking! It’s either because you a) have a secret telepathic link with her b) only exist in her head anyway c) it adds plot devices and word counts or d) you’re an evil wizard with the ability to read minds. Either way, it doesn’t add to your stats at all!
Mary Sue laughed.
“Well it couldn’t be option B—that’s just silly.”
“Cheap b—” Luke started bitterly (indignantly) at the lack of stat increases, but was suddenly cut-off as a terrible scream split the air.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Mary Sue cried from somewhere off screen, and Luke shook his head at the fact that the author might or might not have forgotten that it’s the deity Word Count and not Letter/Character/Characters-minus-spaces Count.
She didn’t, but it’s her natural instinct with National Novel Writing Month to make things long. And pointless. And long.
“This whole book is pointless.”
You’re pointless.
“Really?” Luke said, arching an eyebrow at the author. “We’re going to do this? Mary Sue just started screaming for no reason and you have a chance to advance the plot.”
You’re an advance the plot.
“My god you are an idiot, aren’t you?” Luke took off running in the direction Mary Sue’s voice came, his teddy bear tightly clutched to his chest and his mind wondering how Mary Sue had managed to get off screen in such a short amount of time until he remembered that the author was on writer’s crack while she was writing this (for those of you who aren’t authors, writer’s crack comes in two forms—for many it is coffee, but for all it is sitting still with your fingers over a key board and deciding that taking your story seriously is a waste of time.) and that that meant the author could do anything she darn well wanted to.
Glad you’re getting the picture, Luke.
Luke skidded down another hill of shale—because apparently the author likes piles of shale and thinks that they’re very fun and a neat image when you have a blank sky and a gray color palate—and stopped at the edge of a very wide but very shallow stream. It was only about an inch deep and very clear, like the pictures you see on the TV where it looks more like glass than water, with little brown and green-ish rocks at the bottom and some poking out for height variety. The beauty of the little stream which was surrounded by two steep banks that were about three feet high made of shale which meant it was in a sort of natural ditch or what have you was the eight year-old girl in the big poofy pink dress and the strange blonde hairstyle thrashing around helplessly in the water.
“I can’t swim!” Mary Sue cried in dismay. The author wants to start typing Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates again because, while a pain in the butt to type, it’s too much fun (and terrible waste of Word Count not to). Luke stood at the side of the stream, his blue hair with the strange pigment variation that made part of it look lighter blue and part of it look darker like spread-out paint while still being very pretty blowing in the wind that hadn’t been there a second ago, his arms folded over his chest and his spider/teddy bear.
“You don’t have to,” he said seriously, starting to get annoyed. “It’s an inch deep. Even babies can’t drown in that.”
“Yes they can,” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates said, abruptly forgetting her hypochodriacal (incorrect word but the author likes it so it stays) position and sitting up, crossing her arms haughtily. “My mommy said they could drown at that depth.”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t.” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates opened Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ mouth to say something else, but suddenly stopped as something touched Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ dress. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates looked down at her side at the pale, clammy white hand resting against the pretty pink fabric of her dress that was made in China most likely in a sweat shop of women and children and old perverted men, because nobody liked the last anyway unless they were thirty years-old and on animated television shows, in which case they got all of the fan-girls and what not. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates followed the hand up the arm to the ratty sleeve over the chest and neck and then the hair to the back of the face-down head.
Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates let out a piercing shriek and leapt to her feet, spraying water droplets all over the scene. Luke tried to make her shut up and stop panicking, but Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates was screaming enough to wake the dead.
The dead body next to Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates groaned and pushed itself up with its arms and legs until it was on all fours. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates screamed with horror.
“My screams have risen the dead!” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates cried as the dead man rose slowly to his feet.
“Ugh, my head.” The corpse coughed and remembered to put his arm over his mouth in order to not spread deadly diseases. “Wow, my lungs hurt. What, did I drown or something?”
“Yes, you did,” Luke said, crossing his arms. The corpse turned to him and stared at him blankly for a couple seconds.
“I drowned?”
“Yes.”
“Then that would mean I died.”
“You didn’t.” A look of relief and hope came over the corpse’s face and he smiled widely. “You were already dead so it was the drowning that killed you.” The corpse’s face fell to one of grief and horror ( D8 ) and he started lamenting and wailing enough to wake the other dead.
“Dead! Deeeeeead! I’m dead! What a calamity, what a horror! I can’t be dead, I have so much life ahead of me! I can’t be dead! I refuse to believe it! I can’t be dead, I’m very much alive! I feel great!” His arm suddenly snapped off and with an embarrassed giggle he stuck it back on his elbow and kept talking. “I’ve never felt so good and full of energy ever! I must be alive! I’m not dead! I—Oh hi, what’s your name?” he asked, suddenly catching sight of Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates. He smiled ecstatically and happily and with a great big goofy grin ( 8D ) that was the total opposite (and reflection) of his previous expression.
It was now that Mary Sue realized that the corpse was that of an eighteen year-old boy’s, with a handsome face (except for the deathly white skin of course) and pale blonde hair that approached tan more than it approached white. Except for the skin, the limbs that fell of sometimes, and the long red line along his neck that meant that his first death was a slit throat—or maybe a beheading—there was no other sign that he was dead.
“I’m Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates,” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates said, trying not to be alarmed by the deadness of the corpse.
“I’m ______ 8D,” he said, offering Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates a hand. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates shook it and it snapped off from the wrist. He laughed embarrassedly and took it back.
“It does that sometimes, I don’t know why,” he admitted, taking it from Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates and popping it back onto his wrist.
“It’s because you’re dead,” Luke said flatly. _____ spun and around and started waving his arms wildly, not even noticing when her first his wrists, then his forearms, and then the rest of his arms flew off and scattered around the bottom of the ditch.
“I am not dead!”
“Denial.”
“No I’m not!”
“You’re even standing in a river!” _____ looked down and smiled.
“So I am! 8D” He flapped his arms excitedly until he realized that he didn’t have any arms to flap. With a sigh Luke walked over to the pieces of arm and picked them up while _____ tried to chat with Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates.
“So Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates is an absolutely amazing name!” he said, still smiling despite his limbless condition. He wiggled from side to side, still smiling and talking away. “I think that’s a really cool name and is really amazing. I’m _____ as I side. I really like having friends, it’s fun. Will you be my friend Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates?” he asked her, clasping his hands together hopefully. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates looked at him, unsure what she should say. For one thing, her rich father had always told her that it was rude not to become the friend of someone who asked you to be their friend, and a darling princess like Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates could never possibly be rude. On the other side, her grandmother was a frighteningly devout Christian granny who attributed the smallest bad thought like “It is cold and I don’t like it” to the devil, and thus befriending a corpse was clearly not something her grandmother would ever approve, seeing as anything dead was absolutely evil and went straight to the devil anyway.
Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates missed Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ Harry Potter books and abruptly and vaguely wondered why Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ grandmother had believed so fervently that his magic had come from the devil and why she had wondered so much if the pages of a Harry Potter book would burn. At least he went to keeping the princess warm, Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates had to suppose.
“Of course I will be your friend,” Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates said, deciding that Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates had never much liked Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates’ grandmother and her Jesus cookies much anyway.
“Watch out for him,” Luke said seriously to Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates as he walked up, his arms laden with dismembered zombie limbs and his spider/teddy bear. He started sticking the parts back to _____, who spent the whole process giggling and claiming over and over that he was very ticklish.
“So why are you here, Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates? 8D ” _____ asked her after Luke finished his putting his arms on. Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates saw a wonderful chance to review the entire novel so far and, so, in the name of the almighty god Word Count, decided to explain the earlier proceedings in as much inaccurate and excruciating detail as Mary Sue Elizabeth Princess Rowling-Gates could.
“You see, I was walking down a very popular and busy street in the city of New York City when my little Mr. Prissy who’s actually not a rabid boy but actually a psychotic girl not that I would know because I ignore anyone who says that he was actually a she. A nasty, stinky, yucky hobo bumped into me on the street and in my revulsion (which means great disgust and the act of recoiling [moving back from something disgusting (something gross)]) I accidentally let go of my precious doggie’s leash! Mr. Prissy took off like a bolt of greased lightning—or so I’ve heard because I’ve never actually seen grease and thus doesn’t know how it works or what it does because it’s icky and my daddy always said that icky things are bad for princesses like me and so there’s never really any reason that I would ever go near grease and even then I have to wonder how you would put this grease-stuff on lightning because isn’t it something ingant… in tan… tanbigl… intang… Not touchable and so it wouldn’t really make any sense but I suppose I’ve heard the phrase go like that and the phrase means that something moves very very fast—and tore off into the middle of the street, which hears means runs very fast and doesn’t actually mean he tore a piece of the street off because that would be amazing and how would he do it if he doesn’t even have any fingers? I was terrified for my little puppy and chased after him into the street, and somehow all of the cars didn’t hit me or even get close to me and you could imagine how amazed I was because it’s a very busy New York road even if there was a small four-foot-by-four-foot space of road construction which was exactly where Mr. Prissy was going and it just so happened to be an open man-hole cover and so in terror I watched as Mr. Prissy tumbled down the hole and I of course went after him and as a Rowling-Gates I have to follow after my puppy and save him of course and when I opened my eyes I had landed just a couple tens of yards away in your world with your pitch-black sky and your great big gray boulders that could eat ten of me and swallow me down without even any milk and I only drink organic milk because I’m rich and I’m a princess and I can’t drink milk or eat food that isn’t organic or grown in China. One or the other, that’s okay. And that’s when I met Luke who at first seemed to me a really yucky dirty little boy and he’s still really rude but I thought his hair was really pretty so I didn’t mind associating with him but then I found out that he’s totally rude and crazy but he’s still the only person I know here—except for you now because I guess I know you too—but I’m sure we’re all going to become amazing friends and bestest buddies and all the fan-girls will ship me and Luke—not that I know what that means—and the author will call them all pedos (which I guess is short for pedophile but I don’t even know what that word is) and she would probably too except that she really can’t see me and Luke together. Or even getting along. Yeah.