I don't own SKU or any of its characters. If I did I wouldn't be writing sub standard fan fiction would I =p?
If you could hear the noise as they could then, you would be forgiven for thinking that you standing inside the belly of a great cathedral. The organ music blared out from an unknown source, enveloping you in its ethereal tone. The tune was a strange one, sounding like a sombre procession or even a funeral march. But it endlessly repeated the same phrase over and over, never going anywhere. The same seven notes stuck in an infinite loop.
This was no ordinary elevator music and this was no ordinary elevator. But not as extraordinary as a different elevator not too far from this one, but I digress.
The whir of machinery added a harmony to the piece. The elevator was rising.
"If the egg's shell cannot be broken, an omelette cannot be made."
Inside the elevator a girl can now be seen, but only by her silhouette formed by the sun setting in the distance. It was marked by big puffy princess sleeves and a skirt that stuck out so much that if you could see more than just a shadow, it would surely have been indecent. In her hair is a ribbon and she is leaning against the wall of the lift.
"We are the chef, the egg is our world."
Another girl enters the elevator. Sure enough, she is wearing a chef's hat underneath which a ponytail is just peaking out, the curl of its tip defying the laws of physics and hair.
"If the world's shell does not break, we shall have to use carton eggs. That is surely an inferior product."
A third girl appears, her pigtails completely ignoring any logic in terms of gravity or space, the circular bunches in them aren't even attached together. I mean really.
"For the sake of the perfect light-lunch menu!"
The organ music picks up the pace as they arrive on a balcony. The girl with the ponytail's hat in now mysteriously missing. Even more curious is her sudden acquisition of a grammar phone which she is now wearing around her neck.
"Gougai, gougai, gougai! The final round of the grand chess master against the plucky young novice is about to begin!"
The girl with the bunches dons an exaggeratedly long fake beard, robe and circular glasses. She's crouched over a chessboard, pretending to be deep in thought.
"I sacrifice my pawn!"
She points across the board and the remaining girl runs out with an obviously fake sword as if charging into battle, then stops and pretends to stab herself by tucking the sword underneath her arm.
"I don't think you play chess that way."
A boyish yet bored-sounding girl's voice calls out from behind the scenes.
Ignoring her, the old-man girl calls out,
"I sacrifice my other pawns!"
The girl with a sword repeats her actions, each 'death' more overdramatic and each with more "Guuh!" "Mmph!" and "Argh!" sound effects than the last.
"Look the master is out of pieces! Whatever shall he do?" Grammar phone girl narrates from the sidelines.
Turning to face to face an imaginary viewer the 'chess master' replies,
"Ah! But I have a trump card up my sleeve."
Which she then literally pulls out of the sleeve of the robe, smugly holding it aloft between her index and middle finger.
"Since when do you play with cards in chess?" The disembodied voice had a slight note of irritation, which was again ignored.
"Mystic Moirae, I choose you!" she says whilst dramatically dragging the card above her head through the air as if to slam it down.
Your humble narrator cannot even begin to logically explain what happens next. So engrossed are we by the card that we missed what must've been a spectacular costume change. The girls are now wearing suits with heavy jackets and less than perfect wigs. The girl with a ponytail had a very short one, cut in the style of a boy; yet again her impossible curl was poking out underneath. The other girl's bunches stuck out like antlers from her long straight wig but worst of all was the girl with the ribbon. The ribbon seemed to ignore the wig completely (which itself was styled into tightly curled ringlets which are somewhat reminiscent of a certain pastry) and sat on top of it like a great big insect.
They sit around a table, as if in a cafe.
"Miracles!" Says the croissant-wigged ribbon girl.
"Shining thing!" Says the ponytail girl.
"Power." Says the bunches girl, "Oh and friendship is a lie too."
A small object, its shape that of a UFO from a 1950s science fiction B-movie hovers unnoticed overhead.
"At this rate we'll never make the omelette before the apocalypse." Begins the ribbon girl.
"I wonder if a soufflé is a better suited metaphor for the power to revolutionize the world." Continues the ponytail girl as more UFOs come to join it.
"I have it on good authority that the End of the World prefers ice cream." The bunches girl informs them whilst casually leaning back on her chair and crossing her legs as a man would, flicking her long wig for emphasis. "I would know. I let him eat it off my bare che-"
"Stop it!" a door to the balcony is slammed aside by a heavily panting girl. The silhouette of her uniform is the same sort of shape as the others, apart from she is wearing shorts instead of trousers and her long hair seems real.
"I've had to listen to your ridiculous plays for god-knows how long and put up with it, but when you start mocking my friends it is too far! I mean they didn't even have any sense, not to mention a plot. I know they're meant to be crypitc and all but jeez, give a girl a break!"
Ignoring her yet again the girl with the ribbon remarks in a sing-song voice.
"Do you know? Do you know? Do you know what I wonder?"
"I wonder why the gallant price always uses the stairs." Bunches girl finishes for her.
"Anthy never lets me use the elevator." From her posture and tone you can tell she is pouting. "And if she does it means she gets me naked and I have to rub up against ... Hey! That's not the point."
"I wonder why the prince wasn't bothered by it before now." The two girls continue their conversation as if uninterrupted.
"Well she has a very light touch. It's kinda pleasant really...Makes me all tingly in strange places."
"I wonder why the prince thought we meant that and not the barely hidden insults." Bunches girl carries on in a deadpan voice.
"Oh... ermmm..." The girl rubs the back of her head as if highly embarrassed.
"Psst!" The ponytail girl covers her mouth and leans over in a stage whisper to her. "You have to get in character."
"Oh... right. Umm...The prince does not take kindly to your jest. Please perform another play. I beseecheth thee?"
"Ah! The jesters have a request. What work would you like us to play, pray tell dear lord?"
"Hmm... I don't see many plays. How about a story instead?"
"A long, long time ago there was a prince and a witch. It was a match made in heaven."
"That's better."
"On their days out the prince liked to go to basketball matches whilst the witch preferred gardens. This caused many a royal quarrel, but in the end they made compromises and all was well within the kingdom."
"Getting a little personal but okay."
"The prince had a thing for cross-dressing and the witch for S&M..."
"STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP IT! What's with all this talk of sex, already? Kids are around, they could be watching this!"
The girl laughs, "But Ohtori's always been full of innuendo."
"Yeah, but you don't have to be so crude about it. Can't you use floral motifs and swordplay like we usually do instead?"
"Yeah but we're bored. Being so cryptic is hard on us too you know. There's only so much phallic imagery a girl can handle. That and using sandwiches as a metaphor for..."
"Alright! Alright, I'm going to settle this the only way I know how. Once and for all! It's time to duel!"
"Oh really?"
The number of UFOs increases dramatically, blocking all vision like a swarm of locusts. Exasperated, the challenger tries to fend them off.
"I knew there was a secret use for these kinds of random objects."
But it is too late. The shadows have disappeared into the swarm, when it clears it is night and only the late coming girl is left. But the other's voices can still be heard, fading into the distance.
"When the sun sets the shadows will disappear."
"We are the shadows, the duels are our sun."
"If the sun sets then we will die without acting again."
"For the sake of obtuse scathing commentary!"
"We really should've stuck with carton eggs, no?"
Far above the balcony at the top of the tower is a man seated on a white sofa. He is surrounded by empty cocktail glasses, with the bottles of the premixed drink strewn about the floor. He holds his head in his hands, the posture of a defeated man. By his feet is a list with each of the contents crossed out.
'Blond haired brat- far too annoying
Blond haired brats' slave boy- too resistant from being able to put up with said irritation
Girl who does that thing with her tongue- got too distracted... mmm...
In the closet lesbian- got chased away by a scary woman with a sword
Triplet clone girls- can't tell them apart
Triplet clone girls' brothers- can't tell them apart even more
Onion boy- who is he again?
Impossibly lively girl (that item was crossed out far more vigorously and decidedly than the others the reason illegible)'
In a fit of rage the man tears up the paper into confetti.
"No more. There's absolutely no more left."
He stares at the ceiling with the blank eyes of a madman. Then starts to scream,
"Teeeenjou!"
Fin
AN/ Moirae are the three characters in Greek myth that controlled every mortal life. Ever seen Hercules? It's those old women with the thread.
I kind of wrote this as practise for writing parodies and Shadow plays. I don't really know how it turned out so please tell me what you think. Even if it is to say I should stick to writing my usual depress-fest fare. Humour is a really hard thing to judge by yourself, so please any comments are welcome. I hope it got a smirk at least, maybe?
Anyways, Later!