The Chronicles of Draconia II (a parody)
This story is dedicated to and will hopefully insult all my friends and the Dutch. Also anyone else with a brain or a life. Or, you know, anything else. (Did I cover everybody, excepting Tom Green?)
Not long ago in a retarded galaxy which luckily for us is far, far away…
Bria was braiding her hair into pigtails. She happened to be wearing her sculpted armor, too, so she looked rather Viking-esque. The pigtails helped the look a lot. They were much better pigtails than Aelyn could have made. Schist, they were some great pigtails.
“Schist! Those are some great pigtails!” Aelyn exclaimed, popping up out of a hole in the floor. “I think we should nominate them for Pigtails of the Year!” She grabbed the pigtails from Bria and Xeroxed them on a convenient Xerox machine. Then she ran away, pursuing a career in Xeroxing people’s pigtails, and was never heard from again.
Bria shrugged, stuck her pigtails back on and started out to get a burger, but then she realized that there weren’t any burgers in Draconia. Man, I’m gonna have to talk to Tren, she thought, going off to find him. I wonder what he’s doing now?
What Tren was Doing Then (Hey, That Rhymes!)
Tren was doing Something of Utmost Importance. He was… eating sauerkraut! Man, I hate sauerkraut! he thought, chewing contemplatively. He glanced over at Bria, looking really cute with her hair in pigtails. (Insert that DUN-DUN-DUN! sound here.) “Bria, have you seen Aelyn?” Tren asked.
Bria questioned his motives, so she killed him.
Aelyn, who was skanking by, saw Tren lying dead on the floor.
“Oh my God!” she yelled. “You killed Tren! You b**tard!” That said, she switched to ‘Oh-no-the-one-I-love-is-dead’ mode. “Oh no, the one I love is dead!” she cried. Then she realized how cliché that was and decided to go get a shake. “Hey, Bria,” she asked. “You wanna go get a milkshake?”
“Sure,” said Bria. “Heeeyyy, wait a minute! You went off and were never heard from again!”
Aelyn shrugged. “Well, that interfered with the overall plot.”
“What plot?”
“That’s true,” Aelyn agreed. There was a pause.
“Um, Aelyn, there aren’t any milkshakes in Draconia.”
“Schist! Well,” said Aelyn, coolly. “We’ll just have to have a little TALK with the author!” She looked up. “I wanna stinkin’ achin’ shake!” she called.
I’M SORRY, BUT THERE JUST CAN’T BE ANY MILKSHAKES IN DRACONIA, the author shouted, not wanting Aelyn to come up there.
“Oh? Why not?”
The author thought about that. The story didn’t make any sense anyway, so the ‘logical’ excuse didn’t really hold water. And neither does Bria’s bladder, she decided on impulse.
Bria ran off, leaving Aelyn and the author alone.
Where Bria Went Because Aelyn Got Ugly (she is blonde, after all) And We Can’t Repeat What She Did On This Paper
First Bria stopped by the bathroom to drop some stuff off. Then she dropped by the Bladder Factory to get a new bladder, and while she was at it, she got a brand new, tie-dyed spleen. Finally, she picked up her cool red dress from the cleaners. Then… (The DUN-DUN-DUN sound again) ...she went back! (Or, maybe it should go here… No, leave it there. Actually, put it here, too. DUN-DUN-DUN!!!)
Back, Because Aelyn Was Done Fighting With The Author
When Bria got back, Aelyn was smugly drinking a vanilla shake. I like vanilla; it’s the finest of the flavors, she reflected.
“I see you got your way,” Bria said tartly.
Aelyn shook off the apple tart from Bria’s tart comment. “Yep,” she said, handing Bria a shake. “And the author has some things to deal with right now, so I don’t think we’ll be bothered.” Aelyn paused, her eyes losing focus as she thought about what had happened. “I wonder how they’ll cauterize that?” she murmured. Tren shrugged.
“Hey, how did you get here? I killed you!” Bria exclaimed to Tren.
“That’s true,” Tren said, “but… that interfered with the plot.”
“WHAT plot?”
“Yeah, I agree,” said Tren. Bria looked confused, but Aelyn nodded sadly.
Suddenly, abruptly, unexpectedly, and for no good reason, the phone rang. (Author’s note: Not that there was a phone. There are no phones in Draconia. ::Nervous glance at Aelyn:: Or… there shouldn’t be.)
“I’ll get it!” called Aelyn, who ran to get the phone—not that there was one--which had rung suddenly, abruptly, unexpectedly, and for no good reason. She picked up the phone and was silent as she waited for the caller to say hello.
After a moment, the voice on the other end asked, “Uh, hello?”
“Hello, is Elecal there?” Aelyn asked.
“Uh…um, nope, sorry, you must… have the wrong number,” the voice said, sounding more than slightly confused.
“Granite. Okay, bye!” Aelyn said, and hung up the phone, not that there was one.
“Who was it?” Tren asked, suspicious.
“Wrong number,” Aelyn replied, wondering where the phone had come from. There was a slight pause as her friends tried to figure out what just happened.
“Right, well…” Bria began. But she was still kind of confused. Also, her body was rejecting the new spleen and she was dying.
“Hey, wait a minute! Aelyn is supposed to be in trouble, not Bria!” Tren pointed out. The author took note of this. Suddenly, Bria felt a lot better.
“I feel a lot better!” Bria said.
“We know, Bria. We read the sentence before that.”
“Oh. Right.” Bria mumbled. Then, suddenly, Something Horrible happened to Aelyn.
“Oh, no! Aelyn! Something Horrible has happened!” Tren cried. And indeed something had; Aelyn had lost a contact.
“Nobody move!” she screeched. But Tren had to save her, so he stepped forward and picked her up.
“Thank God I saved you!” he breathed. Some of his minions thanked God, but Aelyn just cursed. He’d probably stepped on her contact, and now, by the rules of fan-fiction, she had to kiss him.
“Oh, here’s your contact, Aelyn,” Bria said, picking it off of Aelyn’s shoulder right before the mushy music sequence could start. This made the “Yay!” music begin at roughly the same time, and the two kinds of music made such an awful sound playing together that it could have been mistaken for a new Cher song.
“Well, that was fruity, wasn’t it Aelyn?” Bria asked when Aelyn finally had her contact back in.
Aelyn, though, was buried under a huge pile of fruit. Tren gasped and organized a search party. The party lasted into the night and everybody ate too much cake and woke up the next morning with a bad stomachache. …But not Aelyn! All she’d eaten was fruit—and this was *magic* fruit. Suddenly, Aelyn had supernatural powers—she could pay attention during a school assembly, tolerate her younger brother, and, best of all, Aelyn now had the power to watch bad daytime TV without losing her mind! (Insert “Oooh!” sound)
Eager to test this new power, she watched bad daytime TV all day long and thus realized how sad the world was. In her deep state of depression, she went to a pub to drown her worries. After the first five bottles of Guinness, everything looked a lot better. Bria sauntered over. “Yuck, Guinness!” she said, downing a few glasses.
“Uh,” agreed Aelyn. Aelyn didn’t mind wondering how Bria had gotten there. Instead she downed another glass and burped masculinely.
“Thanx for sharing,” Bria commented, as she felt her butt slipping off the chair. She realized she should do something about that.
“You should do something about that,” Aelyn drawled passively.
Bria burped and fell off the chair.
At this point the author paused a moment to attempt conversation with the inebriated Aelyn. WHAT’S WRONG WITH BRIA?
Aelyn stared blankly at the ceiling. “Granite, what do you WANT FROM ME?!”
AELYN, THAT TRUCK DRIVER NEVER TOLD YOU WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR LOVER.
“I have a lover?” Aelyn breathed.
NO, NOT REALLY; I CAN’T BACK THAT UP.
“Oh. Granite!” Aelyn sighed. “Well do you have anything useful to tell me?”
UM… THE KEY IS IN THE ACCENT.
Aelyn pulled herself up onto the table haphazardly and stood up. Taking a deep breath, she began to sing, using a nifty accent.
COCKNEY.
Aelyn flipped her hair. “There was a time—I don’t know when—I didn’t have much time for men—” *HICCUP* “—But this is now, and that was then…”
Bria peeled herself up off the floor and glanced around, a huge smile plastered across her face. “Er yew tawkin’ t’ th’ auwthor?” she asked.
Aelyn giggled and continued singing the raunchy song. “A girl alone, and on her own, mus’ try ta’ have, a heart a’ stone… So I try not, to make it known… my yearning…” Aelyn gazed flirtatiously down at the people in front of her. She scanned for handsome faces, but suddenly realized that everything was spinning…
A cliché explanation sequence for why Tren came
Tren was restless. Bria was supposed to retrieve Aelyn—she still hadn’t kissed him, and she had to; it was in the rules. Taking one last look around the cheese-covered room, he set off for the pub. When he got there, there was some kind of gathering where someone was singing a weird song in a low range that definitely did not sound like Aelyn’s.
“Aelyn!” he cried, knowing instantly that it was she. He made his way across the room to where Aelyn was lap-dancing and had a terrible realization—he’d left the iron plugged in! He ran back home as fast as his little legs could carry him.
Back at the pub: Bria’s poetry corner
(Burp)
Back to Aelyn (who may be our last hope for a plotline)
“So many men! So little time! I want ‘em all! Is that a crime?” Aelyn sang. Half the inhabitants of the bar shouted “NO!” with such force that Aelyn very nearly fell off the table.
Somewhere Else (Anywhere else…)
“Mmmbop! Dop ba do wop, do wa dop ba do wop, dop ba do, yeah yeah!” the trio sang. Thousands of girls screamed, and one girl—one very special girl--choked on her Butterfinger bar and died. Oh, well. It was probably good to get her out of the gene pool, anyway—she was wearing an Abercrombie and Fitch shirt.
But not there
Tren hadn’t really left the iron on; he had just thought he had. He walked back to the pub and saw Aelyn singing and dancing—if you could call that dancing. “Yo, Aelyn! Lookin’ pretty good!” he called.
Aelyn looked down at him with disdain, or curiosity, or… something. It was hard to tell, she was drunk. “What happened to you?” she asked.
“Uh, what do you mean?”
“Ahh, I dunno. The author said… a truck backed up on you, or something?” She looked blank. “Maybe it was a minivan. I’m not sure.” Tren shook his head.
“You’re drunk,” he pointed out helpfully. Aelyn hiccupped and fell into his arms right on cue and despite the fact Tren was still way across the room. “Okay, good, now about that kiss…”
And Aelyn turned into a froggie with wings and flew away.
“Wait!” called Tren, a naughty glimmer entering his eyes. “I never found out if you were a good witch or a bad witch!” But Aelyn had vanished. “Should we set out to look for her?” he asked, the glimmer not entirely gone.
Bria considered. She really didn’t want to go on a trek looking for some stupid frog, even if it did have wings. Unfortunately, she got the idea that she was supposed to, and that the story would never progress unless she did. “Hey, Author!” she called. “Gimme the plot outline!”
NO, I CAN’T GIVE YOU THE OUTLINE!
“Don’t make me come over there!” warned Bria, waving a codpiece dangerously.
UH, I REQUIRE A SHRUBBERY! The author stalled.
Tren grabbed the nearest fichus tree and hurled it at the author. “I want my kiss!” he yelled, impatiently impassioned.
Bria and the author smirked at the boy in spite of themselves. Tren was annoyed, so the took the codpiece from Bria and killed her with it.
“Hey, wait,” croaked a nearby, conveniently winged frog. “Nothing’s supposed to happen to Bria!”
“Aelyn!” Tren exclaimed joyously, running over to the frog. Unfortunately, in his haste, he stepped on poor Aelyn and frog guts went flying everywhere. “NOOOOOOO!!!” Tren howled in despair, “My love is dead!” and with that he wrenched the codpiece out of Bria’s guts and choking himself with it.
Out of nowhere, a group of vertically impaired persons appeared, singing. “Ding, dong, the lover’s dead! Which one’s dead? Tren is dead!”
“That’s a stupid song,” Aelyn scolded them. They hung their little heads and walked away, sadly. “Wait!” called Aelyn. “Amanda, is that you!?”
The little girl looked over her little shoulder. Great, she’s going to find out I joined the Lollipop Guild! “Oh, no, it’s definitely not me. See? No cookies!” Amanda held up her little hands and Aelyn noted that, indeed, Amanda was holding no baked goods. Not even little ones.
“Hmm,” Aelyn said, still incredulous.
“Wait! Tren and Bria are dead! Shouldn’t you be, like, y’know, committing suicide now?” little Amanda asked, drawing attention away from her little self.
“Oh, right. Okay, see you later!” Aelyn said, turning around to face her friends’ carcasses. “Granite,” she said.
NO CUSSING.
“Will you stay out of this?” Aelyn asked. “You’ve caused me nothing but trouble… and you let Bria and Tren die!”
OH, THEY’RE NOT DEAD. YET. The author cackled evilly, and suffered a severe conniption.
Aelyn looked down at Tren’s not-quite-dead body on the ground. She began rescue breathing immediately, but to no avail.
“Sure, just let me die,” said Bria, watching. Suddenly, Tren revived and started Frenching Aelyn! “Ew, gross!” shouted Bria.
What Happened After Tren Finished Kissing Aelyn (Which Was Pretty Interesting Considering Aelyn Was Still A Frog)
“Wait!” called Tren. “We just skipped that whole part? Why? That was my favorite part.” Tren and the others waited for an answer, but the author was long dead of a conniption…
“Oh, don’t worry about the author. We have bigger problems,” Aelyn pointed out, flapping her wings.
“Yeah, you’re a frog.” Bria turned this over in her mind with a large spatula so it could bake evenly. Slowly, she began to try to think: her mind started up with a loud whirring sound and several minutes later she snapped her fingers. "I've got it!" she cried. "THAT'S THE PROBLEM."
Aelyn watched Bria for a moment, a long-suffering sort of expression across her froggy face. "What's the problem, then?"
Bria threw her hands into the air. "You! You're a frog! Don't you see? That's the problem! Once we solve the problem, we can end the story!!!" She caught her hands and grinned, proud of herself.
A look of understanding now passed through Tren's eyes. "And... and then we could f--"
Aelyn cut him off. "YES!" she cried, and turned toward the audience. "Then we could …find a milkshake. Exactly." To herself she sighed, "Better keep the ratings down while I can."
"Awesome!" Tren cried, and immediately began searching his pockets. Aelyn and Bria exchanged knowing glances, then simultaneously jumped Tren and stuffed him into a straightjacket.
“Better,” said Bria.
“Yeah, but I think the head is supposed to go through that hole,” Aelyn started. She caught a look from Bria and stopped short. “Uh… so Bria. What’s the plan?”
Bria grabbed her accordion file and yanked out the plan. “Resolved:” she began, “that the Council should solve the problem—”
“Skip to the important part,” Aelyn instructed, watching nervously as a bat examined her butterfly wings.
“Er… right then. We could make a prince kiss you,” Bria suggested.
“No… I think that’s what caused the problem in the first place.” At that exact moment, Tren—blinded by the straightjacket—knocked over a suspiciously well-stacked pyramid of Spam cans.
“How about a princess?” Bria suggested brightly. Aelyn took a step backwards. “Eheh… just kidding,” said Bria. “Um… uh….” Bria thought hard, but there just didn’t seem to be a solution. She got the bad feeling that they needed the author in order to end the story, which meant of course that the story could go on indefinitely, since the author was, well, dead. A cold lump of foreboding settling itself in her throat. “Oh wait,” she said. “What if The Problem is whodunit?”
“You mean, who croaked it to the author? I don’t think so—we already know it was Sam, goddess of conniptions,” Aelyn began. Airy choir filtered in. “For Sam saw that the author was evil, and she knew that such evil must be stopped. So with a heavy heart and a naughty glint in her eye, Sam raised her hand and—feldspar—the author copped it,” she explained in a fetching British-Froggie accent.
BRITISH.
“Aelyn honey, your teeth have gone bad,” Bria pointed out, coughing up the lump of foreboding. It hopped away, singing “Mr. Roboto.”
“I have teeth?” Aelyn marveled. Spiderman flew by. Bria and Aelyn both gasped and Tren, oblivious, walked into a brick wall that could not be moved.
“Eeek!” Bria screamed.
“Ow!” Tren shouted.
“Thankyouverymuch!” Lump sang.
“Oh!” Aelyn… said. “I think I get it! When we were drunk, the author told me, ‘The key is in the accent.’ Quick, Bria! What does a human accent sound like?”
Bria looked blank. “Uh, I don’t know. Who do we know who is especially human? Oh! To err is human. The President must be really human. Try it.”
Aelyn frowned. “The Amurricin peeble…” she said.
PRESIDENTIAL.
Secret Service agents popped up around Aelyn and at the same time she found her arms moving of their own accord—pointing and giving handshakes to anyone and anything in sight.
In the next fifteen minutes, Aelyn became a hick frog, a Russian frog, a frog with a lisp, a German frog, a nerdy frog, an Irish frog, a French frog—complete with slutty maid outfit—a motherly frog, and an acutely average frog.
“The raen in Spaen staes maenly on the plaen,” Aelyn tried. COCKNEY. Instantly she was a poor English girl frog holding flowers. Aelyn looked down at herself and sighed. “It’s no good,” she said sadly. “I guess this means I’ll always be a frog.”
“NO! Never say that!” Bria yelled. For of course if Aelyn was always a frog, the story would never end. “Don’t give in, don’t give up, but thanks for glorious fiiiiiiiight.…”
“Bria, what are you doing?”
”I’m singing!” Bria said. She changed her song to “Who Wants to Live Forever”
by Queen. “There’s no tiiiime for uuuuss…” she began.
”It’s not working,” Aelyn sobbed. “You’re not fat!”
“Yeah but I’m dressed like a Viking, doesn’t that count for something??” Bria wailed. Aelyn cut her off and began shoving cheesecake down her throat, desperate for an ending.
Tren had finally given up trying to get out of the straightjacket. It wasn’t really so bad in there, after all. I mean, you know, it was nice and dark and cozy. True, he was starting to suffocate but that really wasn’t the most important thing on his mind at that moment. The most important thing was, of course… it was… it was, uh… flashy. Yes. Flashy.
Tren wandered around, bumping into things in the big world he couldn’t see. “Ow,” he said. But Tren was very flashily ambulatory, so he kept walking around. “Ew,” he said at flashy length as he stepped in a flashy pile of something cold and squishy and foreboding. Whatever it flashy was squeaked, “Domo Arigato!” and then was silent.
Tren walked on. He heard Bria singing. “Flashy,” he thought. He moved toward the flashy sound. “Oops,” he said, kicking something.
It squealed, “Tren you forking idioooo…” and was quiet. Suddenly the straightjacket was ripped off of Tren’s head.
“Tren!” Bria shouted, gesturing wildly with the ‘jacket. “You knocked Aelyn into a plot hole!”
“Schist!” Tren looked at the plot hole. It seemed to have no bottom. It just went on forever… and ever… and…. The lump of foreboding jumped up and pulled itself together, then swan dived into Tren’s throat. “She has to come out somewhere!” Tren pointed out.
“But Tren, the author is *dead*,” Bria reminded him, looking scared.
The characters were desperate. They had to end the story through whatever means possible. Bria’s eyes were fixed on the ground. She put them back in her eyes. They worked. The girl looked up at Tren. Slowly, they leaned closer, until, thonk—their heads collided.
“That was a bad idea for an ending anyway,” Bria murmured, feeling disgusted.
“Well what else is there? Let’s see…” Tren ticked off on his fingers. “No kissy. We could find some good symbolism and reflect on it,” he suggested.
“Symbolism?” Bria’s eyebrows shot up. “In this story?” She caught her eyebrows and stuck them back on.
“Okay, right. Learn a life lesson?” Tren caught Bria’s eyebrows and handed them to her. “I guess not. Um. Someone could die!”
Bria considered this. “Wanna kick the bucket?” she asked.
“Er, no, not especially. We’ll come back to that one. Alright, what about finding a moral?” Immediately, the Lump of Foreboding hopped out of Tren and turned to the audience.
“And that’s why you should *never* stress your author out!” it tried.
Nothing happened.
Suddenly, nothing continued to happen.
“Please! End!” Bria wailed.
End.
The two friends held their breath.
“GRANITE!” Bria yelled. She took a deep breath. She didn’t even pay for it! Alarms went off everywhere and police hopped out from the bushes and arrested her. “Noooo!” she cried, kicking and screaming. “HELP!”
A hole opened in the sky and Aelyn dropped out. She whacked the police over their heads with an organic carrot. Bria squealed in ecstasy. No, not that kind. Dude, that doesn’t even make you squeal. I mean, that would just be weird, you know?
Aelyn started to argue but Bria shushed her, hoping their story would be eclipsed by an expository essay. She cursed when this was not the case. Tren, though, didn’t care because Aelyn was now fully human, which meant of course that she had b—
“I have… been… to see the wizard!” Aelyn exclaimed. Tren hesitated.
“Did he tell you how to end the story?” Bria asked.
“Um, no, but he sent me back.” Aelyn looked around. “Ooookay, why isn’t this story over?”
“The author’s dead,” Tren whispered seductively. Aelyn scratched her head.
“Guys… I think I know the solution.”
“Ooh! Does it involve full frontal snogging?” Bria asked.
“No,” Aelyn said. “Actually it involves another accent.”
Bria looked incredulous. “Aelyn, we already tried—”
“I know,” Aelyn replied, “but what I think we need is—” Aelyn paused to peel Tren off of her, “—is the accent they use in Finland.”
“Finland?” asked Tren, putting his hands back where they were.
“Yes. Finland.”
“Finland?” asked Bria.
“Yes. Finland.”
“Finland?” asked Lump.
“No, Azerbaijan. Yes, Finland! Come
on, what do they talk like?”
Bria and Tren looked back at her blankly. Lump prepared to jump into someone’s throat, but he couldn’t decide whose exactly. In fact, he was getting pretty sick of the story, too. After a brief pause, he jumped into himself and left behind only a memory—the one where he went to school the day after getting his wisdom bumps out and everybody laughed at him.
“Help! I don’t know the accent!” Aelyn cried.
“You have to try!” Tren said, taking her hand. “Or we’re all gonna die!”
“We’ll end up in a pie!” Bria added.
“And we won’t know why!”
Aelyn pushed down the panic that was rising in her and closed her eyes. Here goes, she thought. “Ea am from Feenland, ja?”
FINNISH.