Author's Note: "Horrible Rhino Story" is the penname for girls, ages sixteen and fourteen respectively, who were very bored on a thirteen-hour car trip and decided to try and write the worst story ever written, alternating sentences. This story features many references to the short films of Ryan Murphy (vicious516 on youtube) and Neil Cicierega, but you don't need to get them, because the story's so random and absurd anyway that it doesn't matter. That said, we have a genuine respect for "Sense and Sensibility" (it's our favourite Jane Austen book, and we loved the film as well), and at least one of us has another account on where we write stories that are far less horrid.
"Uh-oh," muttered Lord Zizzleby, the stereotypical effeminate vampire, backing away from the brimming vat of toxic waste. "That clearly wasn't pink lemonade."
"Well, how was I supposed to know?" demanded Colonel Brandon, mutating uncomfortably into a twenty-foot rhinoceros.
Lord Zizzleby slapped his beautiful forehead with a gorgeous hand. "Great, now no one's going to hire me to cater for them again," he muttered. "I was supposed to make your wedding day perfect. Now what are we going to do? The wedding's in two hours."
"What kind of caterer brings a vat of toxic waste anyway?" said Brandon, pouting in a cantankerous, rhinocerousy sort of way.
"Well, it's sort of a vampire tradition to toast with it. I sort of forgot I was catering for a human this time. After all, you are pasty white, and you have pointy teeth and that scar on your neck."
"It was caused by falling on a two-pronged fondue fork," Brandon snarled.
"Well, there's only one thing to do," said Lord Zizzleby. "We must go to the sea witch and trade your voice for your human form—"
Brandon's rhino jaw dropped. "My voice? But without my voice, what am I? Do you think anyone's actually a fan of Alan Rickman because of the face?"
"True, true," Lord Zizzleby sighed. "You certainly aren't as attractive as me. Well, I guess we'll have to start a circus, and you could be in the freak show. That way you'd still have fans and get paid, and you wouldn't have to give up your voice."
"BUT MY WEDDING'S IN TWO HOURS!" yelled Brandon. "MARIANNE'S GOING TO TOTALLY FREAK!"
Lord Zizzleby shivered. "Ooh, yell at me again. Your voice is so pretty."
Brandon shot him a dirty look, which is easy for a rhino to do.
"We could always turn you back, but we'll have to pay a visit to Mrs. Cake. Boy, is she frightening," Lord Zizzleby muttered. "We'll need moral support for this. Where are the other two groomsmen?"
Brandon rang a bell with his mouth. "Snape! Judge Turpin! Get in here!" he cried.
"Yes?" both men said in perfect unison, appearing in twin puffs of smoke.
Lord Zizzleby shivered again. "Ooh, three times the pretty voice…"
And so the three brave men and a rhino set out on an arduous journey to visit Mrs. Cake. Fortunately, she lived next door, so it took mere seconds. "Well, hello, dearies," a sweet-looking woman said, answering the door. "I'm Mrs. Circe Cake. Come in. Let me get you a refreshment."
"How is this lady scary?" Brandon chortled. And then they saw it—thousands of men sat in the parlor.
"Leave while you can," a shriveled bald guy croaked.
Lord Zizzleby laughed and flopped down on a pillow. "Oh, don't be silly!" he chirped, as Mrs. Cake bustled back with a tray of delicious-looking appetizers. "What could possibly go wrong?"
TWO HOURS LATER…
"Wow, that was great!" burped Brandon. "Check, please."
"Right away, dearie!" said Mrs. Cake.
TWO HOURS LATER…
"BAMBOOZLED!" shouted Snape.
"I told you! I told you!" cried the shriveled bald guy. "I've been waiting for my check since 1932. And while you're in her parlor, she owns your soul, and can control it as she pleases."
"Well, ummm, at least we have plenty of time to get you turned into a human, since you just missed your wedding," Lord Zizzleby said optimistically.
"Yeah, and this is the perfect place to hide from your fiancé," Judge Turpin added.
Brandon looked at him suspiciously. "You totally kidnapped Marianne, didn't you?" he said.
Turpin smiled nervously. "Just a little."
"LET ME OUT OF HERE, YOU FIEND!" came an angry, feminine voice from inside Turpin's pocket.
"Oh, no! You're staying in there," Turpin said. "Your soul doesn't belong to Mrs. Cake yet, but as soon as you see those delicious, moist, rich cakes, you'll never be able to leave."
"I don't care!" cried Marianne, "My soul may not be in the evil clutches of Mrs. Cake, but it will always belong to Chris-Ba!"
"Chris-Ba?" Snape repeated flatly.
"That's… her special pet name for me," Brandon said uncomfortably.
"Oh, Chris-Ba, Chris-Ba!" sobbed Marianne, bursting from Turpin's pocket and racing toward her fiancé. "What have they done to you, my poor, sweet soldier?"
"Nothing a man can't bear, Mamie-Pie," Brandon replied stoically as Turpin, Snape, Lord Zizzleby, and the old guy all burst into hysterical cackles.
"Hey, 'Chris-Ba,'" Lord Zizzleby said between peals of laughter. "Shall we find Mrs. Cake and ask her about this rhino thing?"
"Oh, no, Chris-Ba, it's far too dangerous!" gasped Marianne, clutching Brandon's horn amorously.
"Yes, but I must go, if we're ever to be married, Mamie-Pie," replied Brandon.
"Pie? Did someone say pie?" said Mrs. Cake, popping up from a random vortex that spontaneously appeared in the middle of the table.
"Well, that certainly saved us a trip," murmured Snape.
"Look, Mrs. Cake," Lord Zizzleby said. "I was wondering if you could do us a favour. Brandon here has turned himself into a rhinoceros, and we need your help to turn him back. We also need the check, but that can wait."
Mrs. Cake beamed. "Why, yes, my darling. There's certainly a way to help your mutant friend. You must travel to the Gulch of the Four Winds and take the skull of famed sorcerer William Bradford from the wise man who lives in the cave there. Then, you must bring this skull to the evil wizard who lives in the tallest tower at the top of the tallest mountain in the coldest part of Alaska, and he can help you."
The three men, the rhino, and the rhino's fiancé all stared in disbelief.
"Rockin'! Let's do it!" yelled Lord Zizzleby.
"Come on, everyone! Get on my back!" Brandon said over the noise. "Except for you, Mamie-Pie. You have to stay here. It's far too dangerous for you."
"Dangit! I never get to ride Brandon!" shouted Marianne, stomping out of the room.
Once Turpin, Snape, and Lord Zizzleby were all securely seated, Brandon disappeared in a puff of smoke and reappeared in a dry, drafty ditch in the middle of New Mexico.
"How did you do that?" demanded Turpin.
"Rhinoceroses have powers that you can only dream of," Brandon replied mysteriously.
"Well, then, if you're so magical, maybe you can find the skull," Snape said, gesturing towards the millions of rotting bones lying in the ditch.
A giant red beam shot suddenly out of Brandon's horn and illuminated a tiny cave carved in the side of the ditch. Lord Zizzleby, Snape, and Turpin all crawled inside, as Brandon couldn't quite fit. Inside sat a ragged man, with long hair and desperate eyes, cradling a crumbling skull.
"Are you the wise man?" asked Lord Zizzleby.
The wise man looked up. "I'm Ben Bernanke," he said. "And I need your teeth, Spencer, for my Federal Reserve." He gently licked the skull's decaying teeth.
"Well, none of us named Spencer," snapped Snape.
Judge Turpin looked slightly terrified. "Erm, I am," he said.
"No, you're not, BATHILDA," Brandon said, enunciating 'Bathilda.' "Sorry about him, he's schizophrenic and has trouble remembering his REAL name sometimes."
"No, I'm not!" said Turpin. Everyone glared at him, but Ben Bernanke didn't seem to be paying attention anyway.
"Do you think you can mock me, Spencer?" he said hollowly, staring intensely at the skull and shaking it. "Do you?!"
"Poor man," sighed Lord Zizzleby. "That's the Chairman of the Federal Reserve. Explains a lot about the current economic state, actually. But how to get the skull from him?"
Suddenly, raucous karaoke music began to play, out of nowhere: "UNDER THE SEEEEA, UNDER THE SEEEEA!" The song continued, Snape dancing with Ben Bernanke until he could get the senile old man to put down the skull. As soon as he did, the music spluttered out and the four made a run for it.
"What was that?" asked Lord Zizzleby, when they were out of hearing distance.
"I'm not sure," Snape said uneasily. "But I hope I never have to do that again. I'm not entirely sure what came over me."
"Mmmm. Maybe it was Mrs. Cake controlling your soul," said Brandon thoughtfully. "Well, where to next?"
"The evil wizard who lives in the tallest tower at the top of the tallest mountain in the coldest part of Alaska, if my memory serves me correctly," said Judge Turpin. "Can you take us there?"
Brandon shook his head. "No," he said miserably. "Rhinos are powerless in cold weather."
"But polar bears aren't," Marianne cried, stepping out from behind a cliff. While the men had been busy with Ben Bernanke, she'd occupied her time by morphing into a twenty-foot polar bear. "Don't worry, Chris-Ba! I drank toxic waste too, so I could come save you! Like the time when you scooped me up in your arms and took off all my clothes and…"
"Whoa there," Brandon cried with considerable embarrassment. "It was for health reasons only, I can assure you. Didn't want you to catch cold after you fainted out in the rain, my dear."
"Well, what are you waiting for?" shouted Marianne. "Off to Alaska!"
And the bunch vanished off to Alaska. The second they arrived, the first thing they noticed was the strong, strong smell of frying fish and a vaguely off-key voice singing an unintelligible song at the top of its lungs.
As they made their way closer to the tallest tower, the song became clearer. "WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STARRRR…" The song continued as the five travelers walked up the icy mountain path.
"Wow, he must really be evil," said Snape. He wasn't being sarcastic- he could think of no magic more vile than happy Disney music.
"Wait a minute," said Lord Zizzleby. "I know this music." He sniffed the air. As he did, a sinister-looking man with a long beard Apparated from the top of the tower and stood before him, reeking strongly of fish.
"Zizzleby, my boy!" he boomed, in a strong Brooklyn accent.
"Zordechai the Magnificent," Lord Zizzleby replied with considerably less enthusiasm. "I never expected to see you again."
"Well, you should have. After all, I am your wife's second cousin's best friend's blood sister's boyfriend's dog's previous owner. And I taught you everything you know about black magic!"
"All you ever taught me was how to fry fish," muttered Lord Zizzleby. "Badly."
"AND THIS!" said Zordechai the Magnificent. He wiggled his fingers and Snape magically began dancing and singing 'Under The Sea.'
"You did that?" asked Brandon. "You can control people to make them sing Disney songs?"
Lord Zizzleby rolled his eyes. "Yes, but only Snape. And only 'Under The Sea.' Trust me, the only magnificent thing about Zordechai the Magnificent is his smell."
"So, can you turn me and Chris-Ba back into humans?" Marianne cried.
"Indeed I can!" shrieked Zordechai the Magnificent, throwing five more fish into the frying pan with a zesty sizzling sound.
"Erm, I'm not sure this such a good idea…" said Turpin nervously.
"Don't be ridiculous," said Zordechai the Magnificent. "Higgledy… piggledy… POO!"
There was a flash of light, and Brandon and Marianne were standing there, looking dazed and perfectly human. "Oh my Godric," breathed Snape. "It actually worked. What are the chances of that?"
But Snape spoke too soon. Because as soon as Brandon and Marianne saw each other, they let out bloodcurdling screams.
"I'm you!"
"I'm you!"
Lord Zizzleby slowly beat his head against the fish-scented wall.
"Wow, is that really how my hair looks from behind?" Marianne cried in disgust.
"And am I really that wrinkly and unattractive?" cried Brandon.
"Well, at least you're not a rhino," muttered Zordechai the Magnificent, shuffling off. "Well, my work here is done." And he disappeared in a puff of fishy smoke.
Brandon and Marianne gasped in desperation. "Snape," said Brandon. "You're a wizard. Figure out something to do."
"Take this," added Turpin, handing over the skull of William Bradford.
"Well, okay, I suppose I could brew a potion. Thankfully, we have the skull of an ancient sorcerer, because that's the main… Brandon, what are you doing?" Snape screamed in disgust. Marianne, in Brandon's body, was experimenting with her/his new short hair by putting it in a Mohawk and such. But that was nothing compared to all of the horrifically indescribable things that Brandon was doing in Marianne's body.
"Well," said Snape, clearing his throat and trying to maintain some sort of dignity. "I can make you a switching solution, but we need… oh man, the irony is unbearable. We need the horn of a rhinoceros."
"No problem!" exclaimed Lord Zizzleby. "I always carry around Pluffo the stuffed rhino, with a real rhino horn! I stole it off of a poacher that I killed and ate years ago!"
"And the other necessary ingredient is… a vampire's fangs," Snape finished up.
"Well, don't look at me! I would starve without my fangs," Lord Zizzleby said. "However, I can use my vampire charm to seduce a teenage girl who is trick-or-treating and is dressed up as a vampire. Then I'll steal her fake fangs."
"That would NOT work," Snape informed him stiffly. "But don't worry, I've already removed yours while you weren't looking."
"WHAT?!" screeched Lord Zizzleby, bursting into tears.
"Soup's on," said Snape, holding up a skull full of glutinous green potion. Just as they were about to drink the foul-smelling liquid, Snape said, "Wait! You need a lock of each other's hair, or else it won't work."
"WHAT?!" cried Marianne, "Cut off one of my beautiful golden locks?"
"Come on, Marianne. You practically shaved off your entire head for Willoughby," Brandon said.
"Yes, but he was hot! You're just some old guy!" snapped Marianne.
"Look, do you want to do this or not?" Snape shouted.
THREE HOURS AND MANY TANTRUMS LATER…
"Ahhh, that's better," said Marianne.
"No, it's not," said Colonel Brandon sadly, thinking back to the many joys of Marianne's body.
"Smashing! Let's get back to Mrs. Cake's!" said Lord Zizzleby.
"But I don't want to suffer through eternity stuffing my face with baked goods in a serial killing, smelly old woman's house!" Marianne sobbed.
"TOO BAD!" yelled Snape, Disapparating the whole bunch over to Mrs. Cake's.
NINETEEN WEEKS LATER…
"I can't believe we still haven't gotten our check," muttered Brandon.
"I just wish we hadn't missed our wedding. All I wanted was to get married," said Marianne.
Judge Turpin cleared his throat.
"No, I'm not marrying you," said Marianne, glaring at the creepy old judge.
"What I was GOING to say," said Judge Turpin with great dignity, "Is, being a judge, I can technically perform a marry-age."
"But I don't have a dress or veil or anything, I'm wearing a torn-up dress that makes me look like one of those Lovely Ladies from Les Miserables, and Chris-Ba isn't wearing a shirt."
"PERFECT!" cried Lord Zizzleby. "And we certainly have cake enough for the occasion."
"Well, I guess," sighed Marianne. "I was just hoping for a wedding a little more like the one from the end of 'Sense and Sensibility.'"
"Silly little girl, you can't believe everything that you read in books. Unless, of course, it's a cookbook," Mrs. Cake laughed.
"I don't know," said Snape miserably. "I didn't really like the effect of the newt poop and monkey brain tumors that the chicken 'n' dumplings recipe that James Potter gave me called for."
Judge Turpin clapped his hands together. "SHHH!" he said. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman together in holy matrimony." He turned to Brandon. "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"Hot diggity, I sure do!" yelled the shriveled bald man in the corner.
"NOT YOU!" everyone shouted in perfect unison.
"Dangit!"
Judge Turpin rolled his eyes. "Colonel Christopher Mustafa Brandon, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"As sure as I'm an incredibly hot young man!" Brandon said.
"Then no?" Marianne sobbed.
"What I meant was, I would certainly love to marry you," Brandon said.
"Oh, good. I didn't realize you were being sarcastic," sighed Marianne. "I love you, Chris-Ba."
"And I love you, too, Mrs. Chris-Ba," said Brandon. He snogged her face off, then paused. "Wait a minute, I wasn't being sarcastic!"
SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER…
"I should've just stayed a rhino," muttered Brandon. He couldn't believe he was still at Mrs. Cake's. The worst part was, Judge Turpin kept trying to kidnap his daughter, Johanna; Lord Zizzleby kept hovering hungrily around his daughter, Bella; and Snape was never very nice to his son, Harry.
As for the old, wrinkled guy, he had escaped through the window and immediately gone to Mr. Fish's next door, where he waited ninety-nine more years for the check. Little did he know that Mr. Fish was actually Zordechai the Magnificent, exercising his mediocre powers of dark magic.
"I just wish that check would come," sighed Marianne, hanging up the family's underwear from the dinner table to dry. "I just want to pay already."
"Pay?" said Mrs. Cake. "What? But the food's free!"
THE END