Giraffes don't have thumbs
Rule Number 7 in the Q Dimension: Justin Bieber is king. (No really. He has a castle and stuff.)
Roger started to walk down the road, followed closely by ROGER, whose Chuck Taylors clomped noisily on the ground and whose Batman costume cape flapped majestically in the wind.
They passed a group of Q Dimension patriots. "All heil King Justin!" Shouted the patriots. "Go away!" Whispered Roger. Thankfully the patriots carried on walking. "Man, I hate those guys!" Roger whined. "They're always going on about how great King Justin is! But I can't stand the guy! I mean, a 17-year old who looks like he's 12, wears cheap hoodies and gives all his speeches using (©) Auto-tune Voice Modulation Software v3.5 (©), it's just a bad look!"
"All heil king Justin!" Bellowed ROGER from above.
There was an awkward moment where both of our two main characters realised they had a difference of opinion over the importance and coolness of beloved King Justin.
An awkward silence followed, punctuated only by the clumps of the Chuck Taylors and the flapping of the cape. So really it was more an awkward period of noise than an awkward silence per say, but really, let's not push a technicality here.
"Hey Roger!" chirped ROGER, like a sparrow, breaking the awkward period of noise. "Remember when we danced on the ballet team together and we went to the nationals and you came third and I came first?"
There was another awkward period of noise where both of our two main characters realised they weren't actually friends and hadn't been since a certain falling-out at a certain ballet nationals several decades ago.
Clump-clump-clump-clump. Flap-flap.
Roger sighed. "We're nearly at the spaceport." ROGER didn't answer. Probably because he, being 10 feet tall, could quite clearly see the spaceport in the near distance.
"Yep, so I guess I'll just check in at the office over here." Roger said as they reached the entrance to the spaceport. "You just wait outside and I'll be back in a jiffy." (ROGER was confused by this, not really knowing what a jiffy was and hoping desperately that it wasn't a clothes steamer because that was the only thing that came to mind and really, how could Roger fit inside one of those?)
ROGER stood alone, outside the office, feeling awkward. Not only did he feel awkward because as a giraffe at a spaceport he stood out like an anorexic at a Jenny Craig meeting but also because he realised he and Roger had some relational patching-up to do if this adventure was to truly succeed.
And that made him feel awkward, because he didn't much like conflict.
As ROGER stood there, a dark and mysterious stranger approached. Well, actually, it was more a crowd of dark and mysterious strangers. Well actually, it was a crowd of dark and mysterious thugs, armed to the teeth, gums, and tonsils with various Cool-Looking Space Weaponry (©). Within seconds, ROGER was bound, gagged, and de-Batman-costumed, and was quickly carried off to a waiting truck by the thugs. (Trucks are very patient you know.) The truck then left the spaceport.
2 minutes later, Roger came out of the check-in office, very much checked-in. He checked out the scene. ROGER was missing. There was an abandoned Batman costume on the ground. And there was a dark and mysterious patch of rubber which looked like the sort of dark and mysterious patch of rubber a dark and mysterious truck might leave behind as it performs a dark and mysterious skid because it is quickly leaving a spaceport, dark and mysteriously.
"Yelp!" Roger yelped.
And the adventure, CONTINUED.
Previous Chapter: : Next Chapter
Roger started to walk down the road, followed closely by ROGER, whose Chuck Taylors clomped noisily on the ground and whose Batman costume cape flapped majestically in the wind.
They passed a group of Q Dimension patriots. "All heil King Justin!" Shouted the patriots. "Go away!" Whispered Roger. Thankfully the patriots carried on walking. "Man, I hate those guys!" Roger whined. "They're always going on about how great King Justin is! But I can't stand the guy! I mean, a 17-year old who looks like he's 12, wears cheap hoodies and gives all his speeches using (©) Auto-tune Voice Modulation Software v3.5 (©), it's just a bad look!"
"All heil king Justin!" Bellowed ROGER from above.
There was an awkward moment where both of our two main characters realised they had a difference of opinion over the importance and coolness of beloved King Justin.
An awkward silence followed, punctuated only by the clumps of the Chuck Taylors and the flapping of the cape. So really it was more an awkward period of noise than an awkward silence per say, but really, let's not push a technicality here.
"Hey Roger!" chirped ROGER, like a sparrow, breaking the awkward period of noise. "Remember when we danced on the ballet team together and we went to the nationals and you came third and I came first?"
There was another awkward period of noise where both of our two main characters realised they weren't actually friends and hadn't been since a certain falling-out at a certain ballet nationals several decades ago.
Clump-clump-clump-clump. Flap-flap.
Roger sighed. "We're nearly at the spaceport." ROGER didn't answer. Probably because he, being 10 feet tall, could quite clearly see the spaceport in the near distance.
"Yep, so I guess I'll just check in at the office over here." Roger said as they reached the entrance to the spaceport. "You just wait outside and I'll be back in a jiffy." (ROGER was confused by this, not really knowing what a jiffy was and hoping desperately that it wasn't a clothes steamer because that was the only thing that came to mind and really, how could Roger fit inside one of those?)
ROGER stood alone, outside the office, feeling awkward. Not only did he feel awkward because as a giraffe at a spaceport he stood out like an anorexic at a Jenny Craig meeting but also because he realised he and Roger had some relational patching-up to do if this adventure was to truly succeed.
And that made him feel awkward, because he didn't much like conflict.
As ROGER stood there, a dark and mysterious stranger approached. Well, actually, it was more a crowd of dark and mysterious strangers. Well actually, it was a crowd of dark and mysterious thugs, armed to the teeth, gums, and tonsils with various Cool-Looking Space Weaponry (©). Within seconds, ROGER was bound, gagged, and de-Batman-costumed, and was quickly carried off to a waiting truck by the thugs. (Trucks are very patient you know.) The truck then left the spaceport.
2 minutes later, Roger came out of the check-in office, very much checked-in. He checked out the scene. ROGER was missing. There was an abandoned Batman costume on the ground. And there was a dark and mysterious patch of rubber which looked like the sort of dark and mysterious patch of rubber a dark and mysterious truck might leave behind as it performs a dark and mysterious skid because it is quickly leaving a spaceport, dark and mysteriously.
"Yelp!" Roger yelped.
And the adventure, CONTINUED.
Previous Chapter: : Next Chapter
posted by Musings | 4:24 PM
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