Hello, gentle readers! Please don't be offended that I'm making fun of the books-it's just too hard to resist laughing at the antics of Eragon. ;) Hope you enjoy, and please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, the Rolling Stones, Fiddler on the Roof, or Tiffany's.
Prologue:
Durza: Urgals! Bring down those elves' noble horses with your deadly arrows!
Urgals: No problemo, big shot.
Durza: HAHAHA! You are helpless, elf. It is funny because I am a sadist.
Arya: Go, egg, go!
Durza: QWAZKSLGHWEIODKKLLJ!
Urgals: Uh-oh.
Arya: Oh, my! I'm simply exhausted. *collapses on the ground*
Durza: Let us proceed to the castle of darkness. BUT I'M STILL ANGRY!
Urgals: Sounds coolio, boss.
Chapters 1-3
Eragon: Oh, woe is me. I have shot no deer in the last three days.
A mystical flash of blue light occurs
Eragon: Oooh, so pretty! Hey, I bet I could get money for this.
Tiffany's Representative: You have excellent instincts, young one. Were you not fictional, we would pay you much money for this mysterious stone.
Eragon: Hey, Sloan! Look at this awesome rock!
Sloan: Okay. Three crowns' worth of meat?
Eragon: No way!
Sloan: Look, I'm really, really cheap and I don't like you. What do you expect?
Tevye: Once a butcher, always a butcher…
Everyone stops and realizes that Carvahall bears an eerie resemblance to Anatevka
Eragon: Oh, fine. Haggling is beyond my mental capacity, so.
Sloan: So where did it come from?
Eragon: Oh, the Spine.
Sloan begins foaming at the mouth and waving butcher knives around
Eragon: Eep.
Horst and Katrina: Silly Sloan, knives are for serial killers!
Garrow: Hey, Eragon, how's it hanging?
Eragon: Look, meat!
Garrow: Awesome! Hey, where did you get it?
Eragon: Oh, Horst bought it.
Garrow begins foaming at the mouth and shouting.
Eragon: I really need to stop telling people where things come from.
Christopher Paolini: I have the Dragon Tales theme song stuck in my head, so I'll name this chapter after it.
Carvahall villagers: …What the hell?
Roran: Oh, Katrina, I pine for you…
Katrina flips her hair and looks teasingly at him.
Roran: Redheads are vixens.
Brom: I shall tell you a story of great sorrow now. Once upon a time, there were awesome dragons and slightly less awesome riders thereof. Then there came a substandard slightly-less-awesome rider who, when he lost his dragon *pauses to gaze into the distance sadly* went completely crazy, found the dangerous combination of a baby dragon and his theme song, Paint it Black, and decided to kill all the riders. Eventually, said substandard rider fought the leader and defeated him by kicking him in the balls. Henceforward he was king, and outlawed cool stories and made y'all peasants. Fear him.
Eragon: Wow, that was a story of great sorrow.
The Rolling Stones: And we thought we'd achieved something when they put us on Guitar Hero.
