o.o; An author note: There are two authors to this story.FireflySnowflake and RiSammy. We both have two separate accountsbut we put it under FireflySnowflake's account for the hell of itso no complaints! Uh...kay...
FireflySnowflake: Go Away Napster! Go away!
RiSammy: Mel! This song is wrong!
FireflySnowflake: Nuh-uh! Fastball - The Way is a very good song. Heh. ()
Anywho. Here goes our story
Two very sick and twisted psychopathic fanfic writers at 6:30 a.m. present:
Trunks And The Smore's Breakfast: Through The Eyes of a Pop Tart
A HamsterGod Production
I am a poptart. I taste like smores and I'm so small I can fit in a toaster. I was laying here in a silvery packet until one day, or so I've heard, a thing called a "human" unwrapped me and released me into the light. Nobody has ever lived to tell the truth so I don't know..Oh no! What is this strange new thing coming to me? Is this the light? Is that a monkey holding me up? Purple monkeys? No..it couldn't be.. its white with purple..no lavender hair. But its picking me up. I look to my fellow poptart mate for help but she just shrugs and laughs at me. I am helpless. I hope something good will happen to me but, who knows? The lavender hair man is putting me into a dark slit. With wires around the edge. Is this the almighty toaster? It must be. From what the left overs and crumbs have lived to tell me is that I will feel warm. I feel it. A certain warmness..It feels good. Really good. Too good to be true. Is this a torture or a pleasure? (Get your mind out of the gutter!) This certain warmness becomes hot. It's becoming hotter...And I'm becoming just a bit softer.
We'll return after this author argument:
RiSammy: Pop-Tarts get harder Mel!
FireflySnowflake: Softer!
RiSammy: Harder!
FireflySnowflake: Softer Sammy!
RiSammy: I want them to be harder!
FireflySnowflake: Fine fine.
I'm becoming just a bit harder. God! Its pain! Torture! How could anyone do this to a poor, defenseless poptart? A few of my sprinkles fall off but not many as I feel something pop me up, making me jump. I'm out in the open. The strange, lavender-haired man picks me up and places me from the toaster to what I have heard is called a plate. Is what happened to the left-overs going to happen to me? He rips me apart, tearing me into two pieces. My chocolate and marshmallow cream oozes out of me and falls onto the the plate. He places me into a dark cave where millions of tiny, little, white monsters begin to smash me..mushing me into more tiny, flat pieces.What is this? I hear a voice just before I am swallowed into my demise. I am nothing now. Just another left-over. But this voice..like an angel it speaks, "TRUNKS! SAVE ME SOME!"
Trunks looked over to Pan and Bra who had just merrily entered the kitchen. "MY POPTARTS!" He yelled defensively.
The End. Reviews! Flames Welcome -
RiSammy: Dont tell them that! They may not flame us!
FireflySnowflake: Oh shut up already Sammy!