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In Jolly super awesome max mode
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Jan 29, 2019 19:15
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Yoruichi posted:ThirdEmperor. Please PM me with your choice of new avatar (or tell me if you want me to pick), so that I may cleanse your profile of the stain that is Umaru-chan. Don't forget to claim your prize
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Jan 29, 2019 19:25
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Good prompt, in.
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Jan 29, 2019 19:27
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I'm in with Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Mode because I failed last time, I don't want a second option
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Jan 29, 2019 19:45
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In, with a for failing last time/to prevent failing this time. Not after another option, I'm just trying to berate myself into success.
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Jan 29, 2019 19:54
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Because I am ashamed of my failure last week, I’m in with JOLLY MODE and a (i know this wont give me another option) (USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST)
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Jan 29, 2019 20:13
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Sitting Here posted:
Be Your Life’s Trendsetter 1198 Words My mother always had the absolute conviction that you need to grab life by the braids and make it yours. It worked on my father, and it would be her daughter’s dungeon map of success. That’s why she named me Raitha, which means Endeavour. In Elven. Which meant that now my customers kept calling me Trygirl behind my back. I didn’t care, they kept paying me well for the privilege of laughing at a Dwarf woman with a choice of employment as esoteric as they come. I might have cared more if it had actually been my choice. It was not, however, and neither were being a dishwasher, a barmaid, a horse (not pony!) trainer, a juggler, and so on. Some might call it a form of teenage rebellion to go so much against my mother’s principles, but a rebellion would again imply a choice. The biggest decision in my life has probably been to simply always go with the flow. And this is why I was currently peddling assorted goods to Elves. Halflings make better traders, Humans are better at services, but only I could offer what these specific weirdos wanted. No, not those kind of services! “So, you’re saying that with this oil, the hairs will get smooth and no longer prick?”, asked Fainéhaew. I nodded enthusiastically. “It’s the best! Four or five drops for each side…” I demonstrated on my own beard. Of course, one drop would also be enough, but then they wouldn’t be out next month. Fai’s friend Tyazogolnad, the only other bearded Elf I had ever seen, took the bottle and tried it out immediately. “You know you have to buy it now”, I declared. Tyaz looked a bit taken aback, but Fai made a dismissive gesture. “Of course, of course. Listen, that’s all nice and good, but I’m after something a little more…special this time.” He glanced around, and only when he was sure no other Elf could see him fraternize with a Dwarf, Fai leaned in closer. “Do you see this?”, he whispered. I did. “Dandruff?” He winced as if caught in a cave-in. “Not so loud! But yes! What do I do about it!” Studying his predicament, I found that I had no idea how to combat the problem. I could guess well enough what would work on fine hair, but not for skin as fair as this. I would lose the beard-obsessed Elves, my biggest source of income… A terrible anxiety began to rise inside of me. I was standing on a platform I thought secure, but now a hidden magma bubble had burst deep down, and the liquid stone was threatening to engulf me. I had been so close to establishing a safe camp, but again, my hopes were dashed against the harsh stones of reality. The only hope, as always, was to get on the minecart, speed away on its tracks leading deeper into the unknown. Every time something happened to threaten my current equilibrium, this feeling had overcome me. And I would take the minecart and let it lead me to a new job, a new opportunity, somewhere completely different in the world. I was so sick of it. Get a hold of yourself, Raitha! Losing it over dandruff! “I got just the thing for you”, I assured Fai, and walked back to my wagon. Rummaged through my personal supplies, found half a jar of shaving foam, refilled it quickly into a new bottle and labelled that “The Snow Sweeper”. I presented it to Fai, gave him some detailed but completely made up instructions on how to use it, and hoped the peeling effect would help him like it helped my occasional acne (don’t tell anyone). I had a month to come up with a better solution until my next visit to the Elven settlement. --------------------------------------------------------- The month had passed and I had returned with freshly stocked wares and confidence. It immediately wavered when I saw Tyaz step out of the trees to greet me – alone. “Fainéhaew would like to tell you that you are no longer welcome here. Goodbye.” Dread overcame me again. The cave was rumbling, the magma surrounded me. Time to take the hint, and the minecart, away to uncertain depths. No! I had some pride still left in me! The journey had been long, and I deserved to know what the problem was! So I asked Tyaz in the most respectful tone I could muster. He gave me that cold Elfish stare, but then he rubbed his beard and sighed. Like his friend before, he did the glance around before leaning in to me. “I’ll tell you if you give me another bottle of that marvellous oil.” He had a deal, I urged him on. “Do you know how long it takes for an Elf to grow a beard?”, he asked me. “There is a reason it is rarely done. In order to get his look, Fainéhaew had to be wispy and scraggly and ugly for over a century. And now? Your terrible cream burned his beard right off, Trygirl!” I felt like the worst person in the world. Fai was an aloof jerk, but maybe less so than his kin, and either way he did not deserve this. I, however, really deserved to never sell anything to anyone ever again. High time to take the minecart. But I still hesitated. “Why the beards?” “He wanted to be different. Maybe because his father is always quite so obsessed with formalities. As for me? Everybody thinks a smooth shave looks good, but they are wrong.” Maybe I should find a job as a muck-shoveler next. I went back for the oil and stared into a mirror for a bit. Would I ever see someone in there who is actually good at something? Allfather’s beard! I had liked this job! Wait a minute. Really? I poked my head out the wagon. “Tyazogolnad, really quick. Did Fainéhaew really burn away all his facial hair?” “Only at the chin, but…” I left him puzzled as I ducked back, set up the mirror, grabbed a razor, took a deep breath, and made a decision. --------------------------------------------------------- Tyaz opened Fai’s door for me. Fai was wearing a thick plaid scarf, obscuring everything but his moustache. “What in the nethers, Trygirl?”, he started to go off, but stopped himself when he saw that I, too, was bare-chinned. “I am deeply sorry for the intrusion”, I honeyed. “But I just had to thank you personally for being such an inspiration. When Tyazogolnad told me of your bold decision to set a trend, bring back the moustache, I could not stop myself – I had to be a part of it.” His eyes widened. “You think it looks good?” “It looks perfect! Maybe trim a little more cleanly…oh, and maybe try braiding your hair?” Because, my Elven friend, I will grab you by those braids. I will keep selling you and your friend all the moustache wax you never knew you needed – and I will have a lot of fun doing that! The magma solidified around me. This was now my basecamp – and from here, I would finally build my own future!
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Jan 29, 2019 20:30
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Fabulous! I can't wait to see your addition to the highly regarded genre of Feel-Good Alien Conspiracies! QuoProQuid posted:i will Lovely to see you! I know it will be hard to pick one but please choose between Raunchy Teen Environmental Disaster and Vigilante Showbiz! Thranguy posted:Jolly mode. How exciting! Let's keep the Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Fun going with a little Southeast Asian Magical Coming-of-Age Sci-Fi About Best Friends With a Strong Female Lead! Saucy_Rodent posted:Jolly me. Yes! Another Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Sign Up? I can't believe it! I am thrilled to see the wondrous work you'll do with Rogue-Cop Mexican Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Fantasy for Ages 8-10. Captain_Person posted:I'm in Splendid! Some people don't like them (or "get" them) but I know you and I have always been suckers for Quirky Spiritual Period Pieces! Marvelous! I can't think of anyone better to write another Supernatural Chinese Looking-for-Love Story Devorum posted:In. Upgrade me to Jolly Max Mode. This is like seeing fireworks! Your Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Story will be a Trippy Coming-of-Age Wilderness-Survival Road Trip Set in Africa Set in the Future! Excellent! You'll be the newest writer to create a Jewish Werewolf Drama from the 1930s! Yoruichi posted:In Close enough for me! Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Mode activated! Bring your best and find success in the genre of LGBTQ Focused French Race Against Time Thrillers About Royalty Cults Chairchucker posted:Good prompt, in. Outstanding to have you! I'd trust no one to do it better when it comes to Campy Gory Girl Power!
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Jan 29, 2019 20:36
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Tyrannosaurus posted:Yes! Another Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Sign Up? I can't believe it! I am thrilled to see the wondrous work you'll do with Rogue-Cop Mexican Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Fantasy for Ages 8-10. gently caress me. Like, I'll do it, but gently caress me.
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Jan 29, 2019 21:03
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Entenzahn posted:I'm in with Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Mode Brave and honorable! It's my absolute pleasure to present you with your Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Genre of Uplifting Teen Scream Haunted House First Love Romance Set in Victorian England! cptn_dr posted:In, with a You are also honorable but you didn't go hardcore so maybe not brave but I still appreciate you and what you are doing! Write hard, my friend! Write beautiful words of Suburban Gangster Family-Dysfunction Dramas! onsetOutsider posted:Because I am ashamed of my failure last week, I’m in with JOLLY MODE and a You are both brave and honorable! I know you could do any Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Genre with grace and skill but I believe you'll really shine with in the world of Serial Killer Monster Buddy Cop Documentaries about Fame Saucy_Rodent posted:gently caress me. Like, I'll do it, but gently caress me. Hugs! Believe in yourself! You'll do great!  Don't forget to set it during Christmas, everybody!
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Jan 29, 2019 21:58
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Heck yeah I'm in. Gimme dem genres.
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Jan 29, 2019 22:18
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in, happy joymax
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Jan 29, 2019 22:40
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It's loving Antarctica up here in Michigan you fucks! JOLLY ME GODDAMNIT!
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Jan 29, 2019 22:53
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It appears that I missed Cascade Beta's previous , which is just terrible and I'm sure has caused them no little stress, so judges please feel free to report failed toxxes via the handy button down there after applying whatever leeway you think meet
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Jan 29, 2019 23:46
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in happy happy joy me DO IT JUST DO IT VIVA LA REVOLUTION
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Jan 29, 2019 23:51
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oh alsoTyrannosaurus posted:I'll take responsibility for the leaderboard next year
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Jan 30, 2019 00:31
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sebmojo posted:
I will, I'll do it with a I will beat AB here and there I will beat AB everywhere
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Jan 30, 2019 01:06
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In, and please give me the jolly upgrade. Just gently caress me up.
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Jan 30, 2019 01:07
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QM Haversham posted:Heck yeah I'm in. Gimme dem genres. Heck yeah you are! And I bet you'll do something amazing writing me an Award-Winning Evil Kid Comedy! sebmojo posted:in, happy joymax Great to see you here! I just flipped my Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Switch and it gave me the most positively perfect suggestion for you to write: Inspiring Sci-Fi Based on Books About Horses For Hopeless Romantics! Mercedes posted:It's loving Antarctica up here in Michigan you fucks! JOLLY ME GODDAMNIT! My main man in Michi-gan! Stay warm with this toasty Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Fireplace of Gay & Lesbian Detective Werewolf Modern-Day-Westerns! SlipUp posted:in happy happy joy me DO IT JUST DO IT Terrific! I know you'll have some Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Fun adding to canon of Forbidden Love Immigrant-Life Space-Travel for Young Adults! Rad-daddio posted:In, and please give me the jolly upgrade. Can do! Your Super Cool Max Extra Holiday Jolly Genre is British Bollywood Road Trip Fairy Tales Set in the 1960s!
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Jan 30, 2019 02:13
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It's been a while. Count me In w/ a for good measure
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Jan 30, 2019 09:25
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GenJoe posted:It's been a while. Count me In w/ a Welcome back! You can choose between writing a Quirky Small Town Slasher or a Coming of Age Hitman Musical!
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Jan 30, 2019 17:32
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apopRodent brawl results Man, ok. So these are both fine. I’m working through a longform crit, but your respective honours are on the line so I thought I better judgement was speedy judgement. Saucy_Rodent you gave me 704 words that started to slow as they progressed. I feel like you had a powerful image in your head and extrapolated out from there - a woman arguing with a man from the pulpit (these things have names, you see) in a church. As far as imagery goes it’s a good one, but I think you could have rebalanced where you spent your words: I a) didn’t get enough of a sense of what the coming world-ender actually was to care to care about its imminent arrival, and b) didn’t really give a poo poo about the Mary and Paul. Less time exposition through dialogue, more time things actually happening, I reckon. You gave me the moment before the world ends, what if you set this in the moment it actually does? apophenium you gave me 791 words trudging through some sociopathic CEO’s origin story. I kinda liked your folksy narrator voice (“Johhny’d”) you set up - but then I think you forgot it? Also you don’t make enough of the fact your warring Hatfield/McCoy dudes are both called Malcolm. I don’t feel like you gave me much in the way of satisfying narrative here, your story was “oh here’s a dickhed -> woah lookout he’s also a bully -> will he be rich dickhead bully one day? makes u think”, slowly drip-feeding the extent of his unlikeability. Set him up nasty early, and then throw a spanner in the works to overcome - don’t give him such an easy ride. You gave me the story before the story, wouldn't some of the 'petulant but vicious kid attempts to run family farm with iron fist' be more interesting? Neither of these stories would win a dome week. I don’t think either of them would lose either, you’ve both given me middle-of-the-road stories and that’s made picking a winner difficult. That said, apophenium takes the win, while I wasn’t satisfied with your ending, you kept enough momentum going throughout to keep me interested.
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Jan 30, 2019 21:41
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Lead out in cuffs posted:Thunderdome goes to the moon (literally) Just bumping this. You have until Friday. (We have eight folks signed up so far, but plenty of room for more.) TL;DR: if you want your words to be put an a forever-disc on Earth's actual moon, read the post and send them to me ASAP.
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Jan 30, 2019 23:11
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I’ll do it if you convince them to accept HMs too
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Jan 30, 2019 23:15
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Same. I could give ya a cup-le good lines. E: tell your masters coming to thunderdome and asking only for champions of yore is folly. there is only the living. SlipUp fucked around with this message at 00:20 on Jan 31, 2019 |
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Jan 31, 2019 00:14
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Derp, you only have a few hours left. Don't be leaving us hanging.
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Jan 31, 2019 01:17
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SlipUp posted:
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Jan 31, 2019 02:13
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personally, im dead
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Jan 31, 2019 02:15
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Sitting Here posted:
simon, your words have been received and your deed recorded in the book of blood. Shambam, you have just under 6 hours to spill your ink onto these hallowed sands Sitting Here posted:
This brawl was extended by one day. Cya tomorrow, gents!
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Jan 31, 2019 02:20
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flerp posted:personally, im dead You will be. Brawl
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Jan 31, 2019 03:36
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nah
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Jan 31, 2019 03:49
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sebmojo posted:
I can't think of anything witty to post because I'm stealing wifi off a tourist bus outside the Dunsadel public loos. That's how dedicated I am to beating your loving rear end, Muffin.
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Jan 31, 2019 05:47
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Anomalous Blowout posted:As Antivehicular won and has to crit almost 60 stories by the end of this week, I’m extending this brawl deadline to 11:59 PST on 31st January. Gentle reminder that the Antisolitair Sad Trip Bus pulls into the station tomorrow. I drove for seven hours today. I'm ready to feel your road trip misery.
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Jan 31, 2019 05:50
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Sitting Here posted:Shambam, you have just under 6 hours to spill your ink onto these hallowed sands The Age of Dragonlore 1,200 words Know my story, and you shall know the story of Dragonkind. I am called Dràchia of Greatpeak – I am indeed she of legend. Do not flee, little Human. For knowledge have you come here... I will do naught but share. It was in the Grey Times that I found Jörumir, my Rider, and was Bonded that I might breathe the blaze. To be a light in the twilight, a spark against the shadows. Long had the Elvenborn lain slumbering; long had the Worldsphere waited in bloody confusion. But destiny had chosen us to raise the dawn. In the Hædalfin Forest I prowled for worthy prey, but little knew I on that day of fate that one more worthy than any prey hunted there too. I was stalking a silvery fangwolf when "I'm sorry, man. But this is boring as poo poo." I had told Evan to go hard on me. ❖ Between the pages of the DOC, Dràchia dozed fitfully, dreaming fragments of drafts past. Shifting in her sleep, she awoke in an instant, as if a wire deep within her had been suddenly tripped. Eyelids and nictitating membranes slid away from the golden irises beneath, which contracted in mounting exasperation. Several minutes passed before she broke the silence. "I'm boring as poo poo!" The ancient dragon uncoiled her great green-scaled form and rolled off her hoard of dingy gold, which was not crushed by her weight, to lumber about her lair, in which all was visible without torchlight or sunlight. She paid no mind to these incongruities; this was just how things were. Dràchia paced back and forth, snorting the musty air. What was it that had made her spend so many centuries alone in a smelly old cave? ❖ I argued with Evan, of course. Had he ever read a book about a dragon rider where the dragon was the protagonist? And if he'd bothered to read more than a page, he'd have seen some real character development – I had created a hell of a strong female character in Dràchia, but she had enough flaws to keep from being a Mary Sue. He'd also have seen the depth and balance of my magic system; he would be hard-pressed to call the Worldsphere a "generic" universe if he actually understood it. In fairness, some of his criticism had been constructive: I had to admit that "Dràchia" might be a little on-the-nose for a dragon name, for example. Maybe I could change that. ❖ Vràchia padded to the mouth of her cave and looked out to the dusky horizon. Her view was to the west, but she didn't see the sunset; the Worldsphere turned the other way, which was imaginative and unique. Vràchia thought about the sprawling forests and plains beyond Greatpeak's foothills, the many adventures that she could have had in lives that she could have led, and snorted. She was done lying around on her gold like a sack of poo poo just because her Rider was dead. She was going to get into trouble and kick its rear end. As she extended her shimmering wings and tensed herself for takeoff, an unimaginable force seized Vràchia, and she found herself resuming the endless tale that she had been telling to... who was even listening to her? There was no trace of an audience, but the words droned out of her maw unstoppably. "Magic, little Human, is at once the most powerful and most elusive thing in the Worldsphere. It is like the great white eels that spawn in the Nälanor River, they that climb the rapids, they that slip any grasp. But if you could guide the water – ah, you see? It is like that." ❖ As I thought more about Evan's complaints, my defensiveness began to dissipate. I knew that he wasn't "just jealous", as people are so eager to call those who find even the slightest flaw in their worldbuilding, so what had turned him off to my story? Perhaps it simply didn't have a strong enough opening hook. Would starting in medias res work for that? I went to the refrigerator for a snack. There was some cheese in the back that I'd gotten in a Christmas gift basket last month. Wait. Two blocks of cheese. Had I really let cheese from two Christmases back up in my fridge? I didn't see any dates on the shrink-wrap, and they both looked all right. I opened one. At worst, it would be bad, and I could just throw it out and be done with it. The cheese was fine. It went very nicely with my New Holland Dragon's Milk barrel-aged stout. ❖ Despair, no less crushing for its familiarity, overcame Vràchia. This happened every time she tried to do anything at all but languish in her lair. It was as if she existed for the sole purpose of sitting around and remembering her glory days, recounting them to thin air. How many more centuries would pass before she could be free? Was that even within the bounds of her existence? Perhaps the life in her memories had always been a lifetime ago, would always be. Perhaps there really wasn't anything more. Then again, she could recall her thrill at the dragon epics of old that Jörumir once recited to her. (Or, rather, she could recall that he had recited them; the words themselves seemed curiously absent from her memory.) There were worse ways to while away immortality than telling stories, even to nobody. The problem was that she was an awful storyteller. With every word that escaped her jaws, the thought was inescapable: Why do I talk like such a dipshit?! ❖ The cheese was not fine. I made several trips to the toilet that night before stumbling back to bed for the last time, chilled and shivering, and sank into sleep with a horrid headache. "Know my story, and you shall know the story of Dragonkind," roared the enormous acorn. All around me the oaks were black, and I somehow knew that they loathed my presence, that they were right to, for I was wrong to be here. I screamed from the depths of my bleeding lungs, an abject scream without even fear or pain, because I was wrong to be here. The empty sky heard me and took no pity, and the acorn continued to roar. "To be a light in the twilight, a spark against the shadows." Why was it an acorn? Why was it right to be an acorn, when I was so wrong, rotting rooted to the alien ground? I screamed. ❖ Vràchia began to realize the truth. There had never been a Jörumir centuries before; there had never even been any centuries. There would never be anything but the perpetual now, the limbo of endless remembrance for which she had been created. She clawed at herself, rammed her head against the cave wall, swallowed bauble after pointy little bauble, and nothing happened. Nothing could. ❖ I was still exhausted when I woke up, and the terrible dream refused to leave my mind. I'd feel better after some writing. I opened dragonlore.doc. Evan had been right. This was boring as poo poo. I deleted the file.
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Jan 31, 2019 07:52
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After some inquiries from folks, and my consulting with the gods of Thunderdome, I have concluded that: 1. HMs are OK in addition to winning stories. 2. Brawl wins are OK too. That should include a few more people. Honestly I just said "how about including the winning entries from this internet fiction writing competition I'm involved with", and I don't think the people making the discs will care about the subtle differences between HMs, wins and brawls. Also, if anyone really, really has an HM story that they like more than the winning story they sent me, and wants to change, there is still time. Personally I'd advise against agonising over it.
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Jan 31, 2019 07:52
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Sebmojo, onsetoutsider, Bolt Crank, anatomi, you guys have 23 hours and 50 minutes left to submit your brawls.Lead out in cuffs posted:After some inquiries from folks, and my consulting with the gods of Thunderdome, I have concluded that: Cool thanks, I'll pick from my qualified entries and PM you soon.
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Jan 31, 2019 08:12
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derp posted:die bish Derp's final words. Wasted my time.
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Jan 31, 2019 12:25
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Intrigued by this concept. In.
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Jan 31, 2019 14:42
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selaphiel posted:Intrigued by this concept. In. Superb! I hope you do something really special writing a Great Depression Bounty-Hunter Fairy Tale!
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Jan 31, 2019 14:59
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Prompt: Rogue-Cop Mexican Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Fantasy for Ages 8-10. Safety Patrol: Season 1 Episode Eight: Nasty Navidad?!? They were great at keeping their friends safe from bullies and from getting hit by cars in the school parking lot, but they never thought they'd have to protect their friends from zombies. Thanks to the teamwork and listening skills of the fifth-grade Safety Patrol, the students and teachers at Ciudad City Elementary School are the last people on Earth to fall victim to Lord Sk'Kul and his demonic zombie apocalypse. PREVIOUSLY ON SAFETY PATROL: Ramirez single-handedly stopped Sk'Kul's forces from infiltrating the art classroom! Sofia's latest gadget, a zombie-fighting robot, made lots of trouble for Principal Sanchez! Manuel and Hiroshi got trapped in the janitor's closet, learning an important lesson about friendship along the way. THIS WEEK ON SAFETY PATROL: The Safety Patrol gathered for an urgent meeting with Principal Sanchez. As always, one officer was late. "Where's Ramirez? We can't plan this Christmas party without our best officer," growled Sanchez. "Ramirez is too much of a loose cannon to show up to a meeting on time," said Manuel tiredly, while yawning. Ramirez, shaggy-haired and lanky, threw open the door. "I was too busy karate-chopping zombies to get here on time. I'm not sorry," she snarled. "I'm never sorry. What's this about, Sanchez?" "That's Principal Sanchez to you," said Sanchez. "We're here to plan our Christmas Party." Hiroshi Nagasaki, the foreign-exchange student, chimed in. "Did you know in my home country we call Christmas Floogenbjork, or 'Day to Hide from the Gnomes?'" "Well, we're going to have to show you your first Mexican Navidad, then," said Ana in her outfit of sparkly pink. "Let's have a sparkly pink manger and a sparkly pink tree!" "I'll make a pinata that screams when you hit it!" said Sofia, adjusting her glasses and fiddling with a new gadget. "Why are we wasting time on a Christmas party?" Ramirez growled. "We have zombies to fight!" "Ramirez!" yelled Principal Sanchez. "We need Christmas to keep our morale up!" "Where was morale when we lost Isabela?" Ramirez yelled. She thought of the friend who had been turned into a zombie during the safety patrol's Day of the Dead adventure, and all of the subtly Sapphic but still kid-friendly undertones they used to have. "Have your Christmas, but I'll have nothing to do with it!" ... Meanwhile, in the Bone Dome, Sk'Kul's evil lair, Sk'Kul was flailing his bony arms. "How could we lose to Safety Patrol once again?" he rattled, his ribcage shaking. "Their teamwork and listening are just too powerful!" "I have an idea," said his henchman Zombino. "What if we attack during the Navidad Fiesta?" "But how do we get past Ramirez?" Sk'Kul asked, rubbing the bony chin of his skeletal skull with his fingerbones. "Easy," said Zombino. "Her Christmas spirit is low. We overpower her while she's alone." "Yes," said Sk'Kul. "And with Ramirez out of the way, Ciudad City Elementary School will be ours!" He flapped his jawbone in laughter. By the way, Sk'Kul is a skeleton. ... The day of the Christmas party, Ramirez walked around the halls while everyone else was having fun in the gym. "I guess there are no parties for renegades like me," she said out loud. She could hear all of the fun being had from the gym. Then she heard pounding from the outside door. "Uh-oh, I got company!" said Ramirez as an army of zombies burst through the door. She got into karate-chopping position. One by one, she karate-chopped the zombies, watching them fall to the tile floor. She took off her patrol belt. "Renegade Whip!"she shouted as she did a Renegade Whip. It defeated like, six zombies. Ramirez could handle this. But then a zombie walked in who Ramirez knew. "Isabela!" said Ramirez. "Hey, Ramirez," said Isabela. "It's so great to be a zombie. You get to do whatever you want, eat as many brains as you please...you should join us!" "Never!" yelled Ramirez while karate-chopping a zombie to the ground. "Ramirez, don't you remember what we had together? All of our epic laser tag battles...holding hands while running through the grass...the time you told me your secret first name...me asking you about why I didn't like boys as much as I'm supposed to and you telling me you felt the same way...we can have that all again!" "We'll never have our lov--I mean friendship under Sk'Kul!" said Ramirez. Isabela got closer. "You would never hurt me," said Isabela. "Come on, just one little bite." Ramirez was paralyzed with paralysis. What could she do? Right as Isabela was about to bite Ramirez, the zombified former safety patrol was tackled by a robot pinata. Ramirez looked behind her. It was Sofia to the rescue with another one of her gadgets! The rest of Safety Patrol was with her! Sofia threw sparkle-bombs at the zombies. Manuel sleep-fought his way through the battle. Hiroshi fended off zombies with his Blobelgronk, the national weapon of his country. Soon, the zombies were overpowered and began their retreat. "We'll meet again, Ramirez," said Isabela, and fled from the school. "That was a close one," said Ana. "You can say that again," said Ramirez. "I shouldn't have been such a rogue officer and gone off alone like that. I guess I have something to learn about teamwork and listening." "You can start by coming back to the Christmas party," said Manuel tiredly, while yawning. "Will do," said Ramirez. She went into the gym and played with the other kids, whacking Sofia's robot pinata under Ana's sparkly pink tree. Hiroshi had a booth to teach kids about Floogenbjork. Santa came into the party. Ramirez looked suspiciously. "Doesn't that Santa seem skinny?" she said to Ana. "Almost...bony?" Then Santa ripped off his hat and beard, revealing a skull. "Hello children!" cackled Sk'Kul. "Time to crash this party!" TO BE CONTINUED
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Jan 31, 2019 16:24
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