Curse of the Potato:
By Potato Person
As I walked into the beauty parlor, I noticed something. Yes, I was gorgeous, and that clerk did have enormous tits (I'd deal with her later ^_- ), but something else caught my eye. I had split ends!
I immediately rushed off to the hair salon to get an oh-so-stylish trim by my favorite barber, Monica. Aaaaaaaaah, Monica. probably the only girl in the world whom I haven't kissed or proposed to (excluding me, of course. why would I propose to myself? Even a stupid, blonde, ugly, slimy, pervy, evil playboy like me wouldn't stoop so low. most of the time ^_^).
As I walk in, and it was so short notice that I obviously had no time to make an appointment. Monica wasn't in (oh no, did that make a wrinkle?! My beautiful face has been marred! Oh well, just another trip to the handy- dandy surgeon's office [a/n: remind you of anyone? *coughORLIcough*]).
I figured that this was an emergency, and after all, the hair salon gave work to only world-famous hair-cutters, so it couldn't end up that bad. could it :/? (mental note: must stop making funky faces as to prevent spread of wrinkles!)
So, I was assigned one of their veterans, I had seen her before but didn't know who she was, named Baka No Poteto. A most unusual name. however it struck somehow as being strangely exotic to my perfect *coughELVENcough* pointy ears.
Anyhoo, [a/n: Canada anyone?] she wore all black, with more black ribbons adorning her dully blonde hair. At her side was a sword [a/n: ran out of weapon ideas, oh well, I'll personalize my weapon choice later.] bearing the mark of Fanelia along the scabbard laced with emerald-green blossoms. [a/n: Attention people of Canada, the queen of Fanelia has entered the building! ^_^ Van-sama is miiiine!] Also in her belt were very pointy- looking sticks, and a small bottle filled with some strange black ooze [a/n: sleepy stuff, just so ya know, and it may be overdosed as poison, for special occasions ^_^]. Along with these were the typical hairdressing essentials, which in my opinion added a certain je ne se quoi to the whole ensemble. [a/n: don't know how to spell it, need more French learning stuff, o well! Just deal with it.] Strapped to her back, oddly enough, were two cylindrical thingummys that looked very similar to potatoes. Very interesting, if you ask me.
[a/n: Now, on to the plot! Allen torture!!! *licks lips* Moero!]
She beckoned me to sit down in the chair, tying a bib [a/n: don't know the name for it so sorry to anyone who that may offend] around my neck. It was a bit tight [a/n: ^_^ and so it begins!] and I asked her to loosen it a bit so I wouldn't have trouble breathing. Instead of complying, she merely grunted something about washing a wet dog while poking my hair like I was some sort of gross piece of trash. I found this odd; she must have a part- time job as a dog-washer.
She immediately spun me around and ripped the bib none-too-gently off of my poor abused neck and led me off to the washing sinks.
As she silently washed my hair, I took the time to examine her face. It was set grimly, with a look of mild disgust at the touch of my oily, stringy hair in her hands. I took no offense to this, for I am stupid!
After the vigorous scrubbing I noticed that my scalp was bleeding [a/n: meheh, blood loss!]. I told her and she replied, "It was the only way to get it clean. Be glad I didn't use rubbing alcohol."
Again, I cannot be insulted! Dignity at all times! I am a knight! And gay! .oops did I say that out loud? Now she's looking at me funny. uh-oh.
I told her that I wanted a trim. Not to short as to ruin the absolutely petrifying ugliness of it's length, just enough to get rid of the split- ends. She said nothing, and immediately went for her black ooze in the small jar at her waist. She dabbed the ominous fluid onto my wounds, reassuring me that it would help the roots grow back.
I began to feel woozy, and as she proceeded to "trim" my hair I began to lose consciousness. As I slipped into the infinite darkness I could still hear the consistent snip-snip of her scissors and what I believed to me a muffled cackle at random intervals.
When I woke up, I was still sitting in the same chair as before, however I barely recognized myself. For one thing, I distinctly remember telling her that I wanted a trim, however this didn't even come close to making my hair look real! [a/n: not that it ever did. just say it was his point of view]
I also noticed that my hands, legs, and neck were strapped to the seat with the strips of my poofy sleeves, which had been torn off while I was sleeping. I just noticed that I had a farmer's tan!! Must neutralize! Where's the sunscreen, I'm goin' a'tannin'! [a/n: apparently he gets distracted easily..] Oh ya, I'm strapped to a chair with a bad haircut. new plan! Escape and go straight to Monica!
A split second after this thought ran across my narrow girl/fashion obsessed mind, I heard a voice from behind me.
"She's dead, in case you were wondering."
I whipped my head around, seeing Baka No Poteto for a second time.
"I killed her."
And with these words she took her sword from the scabbard; I saw the blood tracing lines along the elegant curves of the blade. For some perverted playboy reason, I thought of the big-breasted clerk in the beauty parlor.
"I killed her too. And now it's time for you to die."
With these last parting words, she took the sword, gliding it along my arms making long shallow cuts running from my white tanless shoulders to my hands. After this she filled them with the blue solution she used to disinfect the combs after using them. I was so entranced with this pain that I did not cry out or struggle but instead dumbly stared as she killed me as painfully and slowly as possible.
I didn't lose much blood so I was still very aware of what was happening as she then lit a match from the pocket of her pitch black kimono by dragging it along my gross stubbly unibrow [a/n: I bet you could really do that too!] and lit the edges of my torn shirt, the bottom of my pants/skirt, and the toes of my boots. You'd think I'd be screaming by now but again I was just too stupid to be able to perform this simple instinctive action. The comb disinfectant began to cycle trough my bloodstream, making my flesh even easier to burn.
Baka No Poteto then took three of her pointy sticks, dipped them in the black fluid from the same jar as before and stabbed them deep into my torso. [a/n: picture boromir dying and you'll get it] Apparently she was very skilled in the ways of torture because she knew exactly where to inflict the least damage while causing the most pain.
As the I burned, bled, and became even more intoxicated all at the same time, I heard her begin to laugh as she stood watching me slowly and painfully die. Then I looked in the mirror one last time to get one last glimpse at my beautiful face and my heart let out.
El Fin
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ESCAFLOWNE OR ALLEN SHEZAR. [a/n: wish I did tho! Van-sama!!! @@] (forgot how to spell the evil one's name. sorry its 1:00 in the morning and I'm just a bit braindead ~_~ *snooooooooooore*)
A/N: in case any of you were wondering I am Baka No Poteto. Also if any of this is a bit rambling or just to hard to follow I apologize cuz its tomorrow already and I'm really tired. but it's worth it cuz I finished a whole fic in one night! Go me! Also this was my first fic EVER for those of you who thought it was really bad. Yours truly, Gabi No Baka (hehe I have.hmm..one, two. three different names in this fic! F34r me and my multi- namedness!!!)
By Potato Person
As I walked into the beauty parlor, I noticed something. Yes, I was gorgeous, and that clerk did have enormous tits (I'd deal with her later ^_- ), but something else caught my eye. I had split ends!
I immediately rushed off to the hair salon to get an oh-so-stylish trim by my favorite barber, Monica. Aaaaaaaaah, Monica. probably the only girl in the world whom I haven't kissed or proposed to (excluding me, of course. why would I propose to myself? Even a stupid, blonde, ugly, slimy, pervy, evil playboy like me wouldn't stoop so low. most of the time ^_^).
As I walk in, and it was so short notice that I obviously had no time to make an appointment. Monica wasn't in (oh no, did that make a wrinkle?! My beautiful face has been marred! Oh well, just another trip to the handy- dandy surgeon's office [a/n: remind you of anyone? *coughORLIcough*]).
I figured that this was an emergency, and after all, the hair salon gave work to only world-famous hair-cutters, so it couldn't end up that bad. could it :/? (mental note: must stop making funky faces as to prevent spread of wrinkles!)
So, I was assigned one of their veterans, I had seen her before but didn't know who she was, named Baka No Poteto. A most unusual name. however it struck somehow as being strangely exotic to my perfect *coughELVENcough* pointy ears.
Anyhoo, [a/n: Canada anyone?] she wore all black, with more black ribbons adorning her dully blonde hair. At her side was a sword [a/n: ran out of weapon ideas, oh well, I'll personalize my weapon choice later.] bearing the mark of Fanelia along the scabbard laced with emerald-green blossoms. [a/n: Attention people of Canada, the queen of Fanelia has entered the building! ^_^ Van-sama is miiiine!] Also in her belt were very pointy- looking sticks, and a small bottle filled with some strange black ooze [a/n: sleepy stuff, just so ya know, and it may be overdosed as poison, for special occasions ^_^]. Along with these were the typical hairdressing essentials, which in my opinion added a certain je ne se quoi to the whole ensemble. [a/n: don't know how to spell it, need more French learning stuff, o well! Just deal with it.] Strapped to her back, oddly enough, were two cylindrical thingummys that looked very similar to potatoes. Very interesting, if you ask me.
[a/n: Now, on to the plot! Allen torture!!! *licks lips* Moero!]
She beckoned me to sit down in the chair, tying a bib [a/n: don't know the name for it so sorry to anyone who that may offend] around my neck. It was a bit tight [a/n: ^_^ and so it begins!] and I asked her to loosen it a bit so I wouldn't have trouble breathing. Instead of complying, she merely grunted something about washing a wet dog while poking my hair like I was some sort of gross piece of trash. I found this odd; she must have a part- time job as a dog-washer.
She immediately spun me around and ripped the bib none-too-gently off of my poor abused neck and led me off to the washing sinks.
As she silently washed my hair, I took the time to examine her face. It was set grimly, with a look of mild disgust at the touch of my oily, stringy hair in her hands. I took no offense to this, for I am stupid!
After the vigorous scrubbing I noticed that my scalp was bleeding [a/n: meheh, blood loss!]. I told her and she replied, "It was the only way to get it clean. Be glad I didn't use rubbing alcohol."
Again, I cannot be insulted! Dignity at all times! I am a knight! And gay! .oops did I say that out loud? Now she's looking at me funny. uh-oh.
I told her that I wanted a trim. Not to short as to ruin the absolutely petrifying ugliness of it's length, just enough to get rid of the split- ends. She said nothing, and immediately went for her black ooze in the small jar at her waist. She dabbed the ominous fluid onto my wounds, reassuring me that it would help the roots grow back.
I began to feel woozy, and as she proceeded to "trim" my hair I began to lose consciousness. As I slipped into the infinite darkness I could still hear the consistent snip-snip of her scissors and what I believed to me a muffled cackle at random intervals.
When I woke up, I was still sitting in the same chair as before, however I barely recognized myself. For one thing, I distinctly remember telling her that I wanted a trim, however this didn't even come close to making my hair look real! [a/n: not that it ever did. just say it was his point of view]
I also noticed that my hands, legs, and neck were strapped to the seat with the strips of my poofy sleeves, which had been torn off while I was sleeping. I just noticed that I had a farmer's tan!! Must neutralize! Where's the sunscreen, I'm goin' a'tannin'! [a/n: apparently he gets distracted easily..] Oh ya, I'm strapped to a chair with a bad haircut. new plan! Escape and go straight to Monica!
A split second after this thought ran across my narrow girl/fashion obsessed mind, I heard a voice from behind me.
"She's dead, in case you were wondering."
I whipped my head around, seeing Baka No Poteto for a second time.
"I killed her."
And with these words she took her sword from the scabbard; I saw the blood tracing lines along the elegant curves of the blade. For some perverted playboy reason, I thought of the big-breasted clerk in the beauty parlor.
"I killed her too. And now it's time for you to die."
With these last parting words, she took the sword, gliding it along my arms making long shallow cuts running from my white tanless shoulders to my hands. After this she filled them with the blue solution she used to disinfect the combs after using them. I was so entranced with this pain that I did not cry out or struggle but instead dumbly stared as she killed me as painfully and slowly as possible.
I didn't lose much blood so I was still very aware of what was happening as she then lit a match from the pocket of her pitch black kimono by dragging it along my gross stubbly unibrow [a/n: I bet you could really do that too!] and lit the edges of my torn shirt, the bottom of my pants/skirt, and the toes of my boots. You'd think I'd be screaming by now but again I was just too stupid to be able to perform this simple instinctive action. The comb disinfectant began to cycle trough my bloodstream, making my flesh even easier to burn.
Baka No Poteto then took three of her pointy sticks, dipped them in the black fluid from the same jar as before and stabbed them deep into my torso. [a/n: picture boromir dying and you'll get it] Apparently she was very skilled in the ways of torture because she knew exactly where to inflict the least damage while causing the most pain.
As the I burned, bled, and became even more intoxicated all at the same time, I heard her begin to laugh as she stood watching me slowly and painfully die. Then I looked in the mirror one last time to get one last glimpse at my beautiful face and my heart let out.
El Fin
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ESCAFLOWNE OR ALLEN SHEZAR. [a/n: wish I did tho! Van-sama!!! @@] (forgot how to spell the evil one's name. sorry its 1:00 in the morning and I'm just a bit braindead ~_~ *snooooooooooore*)
A/N: in case any of you were wondering I am Baka No Poteto. Also if any of this is a bit rambling or just to hard to follow I apologize cuz its tomorrow already and I'm really tired. but it's worth it cuz I finished a whole fic in one night! Go me! Also this was my first fic EVER for those of you who thought it was really bad. Yours truly, Gabi No Baka (hehe I have.hmm..one, two. three different names in this fic! F34r me and my multi- namedness!!!)