From The Somewhat Perilous Plot of the Patriotic Mosquitoes
Johnny Morthland, also known as Sam, the leader of the Patriotic Mosquitoes, tried to wait patiently for his other friends or henchmen. Whatever he was in the mood to call them. While the other Patriotic Mosquitoes filed into the conference room one by one, they could clearly hear the sound of Sam's hands tapping the table rather loudly. With a glass table like the one that they have in the conference room, one would assume that the sound would cause the whole earth to explode. And that would most definitely not be the most fun to see on a Saturday night. As pretty much all of the Patriotic Mosquitoes entered the conference room, Sam stared at all of them in disgust. He wanted to start the meeting on the right foot, as many would say. But that was apparently not happening today for them. He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. “Ahem,” Sam cleared his throat. “Hi Sam!” Lisa, one of the female Patriotic Mosquitoes exclaimed. “Quiet, Lisa. Today, we have a very important meeting regarding our plan to take over Texamilio, Galavanti Island, and Buffoon Land.” “Don't you mean Wakahakai?” Josh, another Patriotic Mosquito asked. “No, Josh. I mean Buffoon Land. Land of the Buffoons,” Sam replied. “Oh!” “Who has any memory of the pledge of the Patriotic Mosquitoes?” “Um….” “Sounds about right.” “Um….” With the exception to Sam, the other Patriotic Mosquitoes have already been too incompetent. What was the rest of the meeting going to be like? How was it going to turn out? Sam was very curious to find out. The Patriotic Mosquitoes stood up for their own pledge. They took their hats and flipped them upside down on their heads, and they let all of their arms rest at their sides. Then, they stood on their tip toes and read some words from an overhead projector, since they couldn't remember their own pledge. “I am a Patriotic Mosquito. I do the duties as a Patriotic Mosquito. I cook food like a Patriotic Mosquito. I really like spaghetti. Except when it doesn't have garlic on it. I like garlic as a Patriotic Mosquito. Garlic is food for the mind. And Patriotic Mosquitoes have good minds. Except for when they draw on the walls. Then that is not the way of the Patriotic Mosquito.” Then they sat down.
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'Twas Haiku Monday.
The very first day of the week. Chicken alfredo. Thinking of some stuff To add to this awesome blog. Chicken alfredo. Avocado map. Make me some guacamole. Chicken alfredo. Watching some TV, And playing on my laptop. Chicken alfredo. Sitting on a couch, Writing another blog post. Chicken alfredo. Tomorrow's Tuesday. I will bring my coat and hat. Chicken alfredo. None of this makes sense. 5-7-5 syllables. Chicken alfredo. I'm so creative. Want some fruity tea galore. Chicken alfredo. From Rockybado 2: A Run in the Game
Bowling practice started, and Brett Ingram was not doing well at all at first. Dawson, his older brother, was racking in quite a few strikes and spares, as was the majority of the teammates there. However, Brett did not seem to get the hang of things today, and he wasn’t really sure why. He had no strikes at first; only a few spares and quite a few gutter balls. However, he did eventually get a few strikes, but that was it. Instead of scoring an average range of 250 and 280, he scored less than 150 in one actual game. Not the best day that he has had. “Today’s practice was the worst yet,” Brett said, once he had packed his bowling ball into his blue duffel bag. “It’s okay, Brett. Not like the whole world is going to crash in on us,” Dawson joked half-heartedly. “Very funny, Dawson.” “I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” “Honestly, do you know what my score was today?” Brett questioned his older brother. “I didn’t look at your scoreboard,” Dawson replied. “My score was 142.” “Your score was….142?” “You are correct.” “At least that doesn’t happen too happen.” “Yes. At least.” Dawson did not know what else to say to Brett about the bad practice. While Dawson ended up talking to another teammate, Brett found himself going into the men’s bathroom and crying his eyes out, until Dawson sent him a text message, saying: “I’m out at your car.” Brett left the bathroom and walked out of the bowling alley to his car. He unlocked the car, so that both of them could easily get into it. Brett started his car, and he had seriously thought about going to the nearest ice cream parlor. Even though Brett wasn’t quite vocal about his thoughts about getting some comfort food, Dawson just wanted to go home. “I seriously need a hot fudge sundae,” Brett decided to break the silence. “You don’t need a hot fudge sundae,” Dawson said matter-of-factly. “Why? I had a horrible game.” “I think you’re just letting your emotions get the best of you.” “I guess you’re right.” “I honestly think you are acting like a girl who has just had her tonsils removed,” Dawson blurted out with no thought put into what he had just said. There was silence for a few seconds. And then…. “….What?” Brett questioned, rather stunned at his older brother’s comment. “That is exactly how you’re reacting to the outcome of the game.” “Really?” “Yes, really.” “I’m….I’m really sorry then.” “It’s quite alright.” From The Crazy Chicken Escapade
Ideally, everyone would be back together, and they would get on with their lives. Radcliffe, the leader of the chicken community, did get engaged to Lisa Cluckerton, and he wanted to be with her at this very moment. As a matter of fact, he wanted to know for sure that she was not one of the chickens to be spread out to the other side of the island. As if that was too far away from him, but it wasn’t extremely close either. The phone continued to ring, and Radcliffe eventually found it. Behind the drapes. He answered the phone, and he realized that this might be a trap. Radcliffe took things slowly and carefully. “Hello? This is Radcliffe,” the chicken answered on his end. “Hello. It’s me,” the voice replied. “Who is me?” “Well, you would be you. And I would be me. Simple as that.” “But, should I call you ‘me?’ Or should I call you by your actual name?” Radcliffe questioned the voice. “That is for you to figure out,” said the voice. “Okay. This should not be harder than what you’re making it. Please. Tell me your name.” “Oh, I can’t do that! It’s just me.” “Okay? I will just call you ‘me.’” “Oh, you can’t do that!” Very interesting conversation on either line. Who is “me?” Surely not Radcliffe’s wife….er, fiancée, if one will. Unless “me” was an undercover agent trying to get ahold of a pizza man because he failed to give her the pizza that she ordered while aboard a ship with some pirates who were destined to steal the gold that is left in California from 20 some odd decades ago. The odds are always in one’s favor, or not. Depends on the person. It was pretty obvious that today was not Radcliffe’s day. First, he was held hostage at Darveda’s beautiful mansion; then, the chicken community was spread around the islands like butter on bread; Radcliffe’s wife….er, fiancée, was about to be sent to Italy; and Radcliffe had just finished a strange conversation on the phone with a strange person. What is this world coming to? Could life get any stranger than this? Probably. Radcliffe just could not look on the bright side right now. However, that would pass eventually. When things would get back to normal. Even though this would probably be the case, in the present, Hilda somehow overheard the conversation and wanted to get a little nosy. “Who was that on the phone?!” Hilda asked as she attempted to run into the room, but actually running into the door post this time. “I don’t know. It sounded like a female. But she wouldn’t give me her name. She just said it was ‘me.’ But I do know for a fact that it was not Darveda,” Radcliffe responded. “Darveda is not silly enough to play Phone Wars.” “Or is she?” “She’s a bit of a smart aleck, though,” Hilda replied. “Really?” Radcliffe asked. “Darveda loves to be the one who’s always right, and she likes to pick mud out of her shoe.” “Go figure.” “Want to do a dinner of pinot noir and caviar in my quarters tonight?” “Well, to tell you the truth, I already arranged a pizza party with my band. I play the drums.” “Okay. Suit yourself.” Radcliffe was just simply not in the mood to do anything right now. He had a few days to decide whether he wanted to side with Darveda and her henchmen and turn the chicken community into their control, or he would really suffer the consequences. He was at a loss; he wasn’t sure what happened to the chicken community besides the fact that they were spread across the three prominent islands. |
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