A/N: Hm. Well. This is the result of an English class, a blank notebook, and two friends with very different points of view. This is also what Lord of the Flies would've sounded like had I written it. Heh. Well, I dedicate this to my English teacher Mrs. Fox, from whom I got the idea of 'foreshadowing'. It's not done, so there shall be more. Oh, and one last thing... my apologies to William Golding.
All right. Picture it: a little rock in the middle of the ocean, 1940-ish. A plane crashed there and went boom. Irony is, they were trying to save themselves from nuclear war. Yes, this might seem like the setting for a reality TV show, but it's not. Moving on... Lots of little guys are running all over the island, including a group of choir boys in black cloaks. (Yummy!) But, for some reason, we're looking at a scrawny blonde kid and a pudgy four-eyed boy. Go figure. Anyway, the fat guy says some stuff and the blonde boy does a couple of headstands. After a few minutes of useless talk, we find out the chubby one's name is Piggy (not really, but it's so fun to say) and the fair-haired kid's Ralph. But truthfully, nobody cares about these guys. Bring on the choir boys!
Ralph pushes back hair from his eyes.
"Piggy--"
"Don't call me Piggy."
"--is it just me, or does the narrator seem a little biased?"
"I don't know," mutters Piggy, "it's too darn hot to think. Besides, no one listens to me anyway."
"Oh." Ralph shrugs, not really listening to him, and wanders over to the shore. Staring in the water, he suddenly points. "Hey, what's that?"
"I don't see anything."
"No, it's--wait, I don't see anything either. That's not right." Ralph scratches his head for a moment. Then he shields his eyes and looks up at the sky. "Hey, there's supposed to be a conch shell in here! You know, to blow and summon all the boys?" He jabs a finger at the water. "How can I summon the boys if I have no shell?!" A plunk in the water shortly follows. Now he has a shell, the little whiner. Ralph bends and picks it up. "This isn't a conch!"
It's good enough.
Ralph shakes the thing at the sky. "This isn't even a shell! How are they supposed to hear this?!"
Look, we had to cut back on props. We had a budget.
Piggy grumbles and wipes off his glasses. "Please, Ralph, don't argue with the narrator. Just--" Ralph shoves the thing at him.
"This is a bloody kazoo! I can't call everyone on a kazoo!"
Stop whining and blow the damn kazoo.
Ralph mutters and puts it to his lips.
Go on.
The blonde boy blows on the kazoo, filling the island with... well... kazoo music. After a little while (and several choruses of 'The Ants Go Marching One By One'), there's all these kids gathered on the beach. Ralph finally turns blue and nearly passes out. While he's getting back his breath, out of the forest come--the choir boys! Crowds cheer, fireworks explode, a marching band plays the Star Wars theme and--
What? I can't do that? Dang.
Fine, then. The choir boys come out of the forest wearing black cloaks and caps. The one in front has red hair, freckles, blue eyes, and a gold badge on his hat. He's special. He squints at Ralph, having been half-blinded by the white sand.
"Where's the man with the trumpet?" the boy in front asks. Ralph blinks a little.
"There's no man with a trumpet! It's a kazoo, you twit!" And then Ralph so graciously shuts up unless he wants the narrator to remove him from this story.
"Give me a break!" The gold-badge boy drags a sleeve across his forehead and scowls. "I've been walking around in this cloak all day and I'm HOT!"
Damn straight.
Um, I mean... Piggy wipes off his glasses again.
"Why don't you take it off, then?" The boy blinks, then sticks his tongue out.
"Because I don't want to."
"What, you enjoy sweating?" Piggy's heading along the same line as Ralph. The gold-badge boy glares at him and tells his choir, who seems to be swaying rather dangerously, to stand up. Then one of them faints. Well, the boy wises up and takes off his cloak. Basically, everyone gets introduced. In the end, we got Ralph, Piggy, Simon, Roger, Samneric (who are twins, not a child with a freaky name), Bill, Maurice, some other kids and... Jack Merridew! Indeed, he would be the gold-badge boy. Well, they have a discussion and they decide they have to have law and order. Personally, I don't think it's that good of a TV show, but... the boys vote for chief. All the dorks vote for Ralph, but the choir cuties vote for Jack. Valiant as they are, they weren't enough. So Ralph is granted chiefship and a flick in the head from the narrator.
"Ow!"
You deserved it.
Ralph mutters and starts establishing his little community-thingy. Jack and his choir become hunters and other people do... stuff. The narrator gets bored with the beginning and turns the hands on her magical clock, making time go by very quickly and people sound like chipmunks when they talk. It stops after a few months have passed. Jack is trying to hunt, but loses sight of the pig. Therefore, he retires, grumbling, to the beach. Ralph and Simon are building huts out of Tinkertoys.
Hey, I felt sorry for them! Fine, fine. They're using sticks and leaves.
Jack ambles over and jabs his spear into the ground.
"The pig got away."
"I know," mutters Ralph, fumbling with the sticks, "I'm listening to the narrator." Jack grins.
"You're mad because she likes me better."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Look," cries Ralph, standing up quickly and knocking a hut over on Simon, "I'm mad because the Tinkertoys were a lot easier to build with, I haven't brushed my teeth in months, and I'm tired of getting flicked in the head!" The narrator, always one to please, flicks Ralph in the head. "OW!"
"See?" Jack leans back up against a tree. "I told you she likes me better."
"Why don't you go off and form a mutinous tribe on the other side of the island?!" snaps Ralph, rubbing the back of his head. The choir boy-turned-hunter perks.
"That's not a bad idea!"
"What?" mutters Ralph, digging Simon out from under the pile of sticks. Jack blinks and twiddles his thumbs.
"Nothing."
That, children, is an example of foreshadowing.
Well, time goes by. Little guys start getting scared, saying there's a beast on the island. So Ralph holds an assembly. Good for him.
"Listen, everyone. Hey--Hey, I've got the conch!" Ralph waves the shell around in the air. "I've got the conch! Listen to me!" Everyone's vaguely distracted by a bunch of kids sitting on a log. They keep falling over, which amuses the group to no end. It also annoys Ralph. Wow, two for one! "It's not that funny! Look, they're just going to fall over again!" Ralph tries to get back the group's attention. The kids fall off the log. Everyone laughs. "Look at me!" Ralph stomps the ground in frustration. Simon, being ignored, raises his hand contritely.
"I'm listening, Ralph."
"Chief's pet," hisses Roger, then throws some stones at Simon's head. Simon doesn't even flinch.
"Patience is a virtue." Roger blinks.
"What the bloody 'ell does that have to do with anything?" Ralph is still yelling at the group. The kids fall off the log.
"No!" Me!"
The kids fall off the log.
"C'mon, guys, just--"
The kids fall off the log. Ralph throws down the shell. "That's it! I've had it!" Fine. The guy wants a change of pace.
The log falls on Ralph.
"OW!" Ralph clutches his head as the group breaks into hysterics. Piggy sighs.
"Too late, Ralph. You lost them."
"Oh, shut up!" Suddenly, in a horrible twist of fate, the narrator's friend Racheal flicks Jack in the head. Jack yelps.
"Ow! What was that for?!"
That was for all the evil things you've done. You made the narrator fall in love with people like you! Plus, you killed Piggy! Damn you! Damn you to hell!
The narrator screeches and swats Racheal away from the story.
Leave him alone, you twit! He's mine!
Happy to be in control once again, the narrator gives Jack a candy bar and a pat on the bum. Jack blinks, rather confused, then shrugs and munches happily on the candy bar. Piggy's mouth waters as he watches longingly.
"Can I have--"
"All gone!" Jack pops the treat into his mouth and licks the chocolate from his fingers. Piggy sighs sadly.
"All right, then." Ralph sits up, groaning and rubbing his head.
"That entire conversation was pointless and stupid," he growls.
I know. Great, wasn't it?
Ralph scowls. "What kind of idiot do we have for a narrator?"
The kind of idiot that will drop a whole lot more than a log on you if you don't watch your mouth.
Ralph blinks. "Well. All right. We need to start helping on the shelters--"
Smart kid.
While Simon works on building the huts, Jack walks over to where he's standing. He starts talking about hunting. Racheal yells from the background.
Jack, don't you talk to him! Simon, don't listen! You sun-deprived evil child, don't talk to Simon! Simon, don't listen! You're strong! You can do it!
Then, for no apparent reason, Racheal smacks Jack in the face.
You don't talk to him or touch him. You understand?
"Yes, evil demon woman," mutters Jack.
Smack!
Off goes Jack crying to the narrator.
Girl, why are you babying that evil deprived--I mean, evil sun-deprived boy? Don't start getting on your soap box either because I don't want to hear it today.
The narrator pats Jack's back consolingly, snatching back the story from the evil Racheal.
Racheal, you are really asking for it--
Ralph watches, intrigued, while Simon tries to put the huts back together.
If you smack Jack one more time, I swear, I'll flick Piggy in the head!
Piggy gasps. "No! Listen to her, Racheal! You don't know what it's like to get flicked in the head!"
You touch Piggy and I'll kill the little choir boy. Stop babying Jack! Capish?
It's spelled 'kapesch', I believe.
Jack sniffles. "You'll keep her away, won't you? I'd kill her with my spear, of course," he adds hurriedly, "except it's hard to stab a mystical disembodied voice."
I know. Don't worry. I'll keep the evil demon woman away.
Ralph picks up a stick and starts poking Simon with it. "I'm bored." Simon just sits there being poked.
Look, you need to be quiet. We're having a serious discussion here.
Ralph sighs, jabbing Simon in the ribs boredly. Piggy is clutching his head in fright. "She's not really going to flick me in the head, is she?"
"No," mutters Ralph, "she only does that to me." The narrator, meanwhile, is arguing with Racheal.
He's not evil, you twit! He just needs a hug!
A hug my ass. If I suddenly turn evil, are you going to give me a hug? I think not!
The narrator huffs.
That's different! You're not an English choir boy with a black cape, are you?
Jack blinks a little. "Actually, I could use a hug."
In a minute, in a minute.
No, no hugging!
I'll hug him if I want!
The narrator hugs Jack.
See? Now I bet he won't go on a murderous rampage.
Jack grins. "I dunno. I still might. Let's have another hug and see."
Let's not get carried away.
"Aw! Please?"
...maybe later.
See? Now look what you've started! Bad narrator! Bad!
Hey! Would you rather he go and kill Piggy?
Jack waits impatiently. "Lookin' for a hug here."
Wait just a second. Racheal--
Jack sticks his lower lip out. "If I don't get a hug, I might do something bad--" The narrator hugs him.
Those freckles are so cute I can't resist.
I have freckles too! Where's my hug, huh?
...once again, you're not an evil English choir boy.
Jack pipes up. "With a black cloak! Don't forget that! That's very important!"
What do I have to do to get respect around here? Do I have to have a sex change or something?
...but Jack's just so cute!
"Yeah, damn straight!" Jack sticks his tongue out at Racheal. "You just wish you could measure up to my greatness." Suddenly, he gets another hug from the narrator. Jack blinks. "What was that for?"
Idunno. It just felt like it needed to be done.
Jack shrugs. "Fine with me."
You have no greatness! Besides, I've known the narrator longer than you have! You're only a figment of our imagination! Narrator, get off your damn soapbox! ...and boy, next time I see that tongue I'm tying it in a knot.
Jack claps his hands over his mouth.
I'm not getting off my soapbox until you acknowledge Jack for the cutie he is! BESIDES, HE'S NOT A FIG NEWTON OF OUR IMAGINATION! ...and Jack, you stick your tongue out at her whenever you want, honey.
Figment, not Fig Newton!
...are you calling my sweetie a cookie?
Piggy pipes up. "But they're not cookies! They're Newtons!"
...oh, shut up.
Jack, becoming bored, picks up a stick.
"Hey," calls Ralph. "Before you turn on me, wanna poke Simon?" Jack shrugs.
"Sure, why not?" He plops down beside Ralph and starts poking Simon. Simon, being the pacifist he is, just stares straight ahead.
Jack! Stop poking Simon! No! Come here, Simon.
Racheal gives him a big hug.
There. Ha. You're not the only one who can baby an English choir boy.
The narrator pokes Simon with a stick.
The guy's a vegetable. He hardly moves. He doesn't defend himself. See?
The narrator pokes Simon again. Jack and Ralph help.
Damn it, stop poking my baby! That's why I'm here; to stick up for him. Here, Simon. You can have a cookie, sweetie.
As Simon stares at the cookie, trying to figure out what to do, Ralph sets down his stick and checks his watch. "You know, we really should be finding the beast right about now."
Just make fun of Racheal's accent. It's almost the same thing.
Damn you! Just because I'm from North Carolina, I'm weird? Well, you're from England, so... shut up!
The narrator snickers.
Dadgummit.
Oh, shut up.
Simon picks up the cookie and begins eating it quietly. Jack pokes him one last time, then sighs. "I'm bored."
Yeah, me too. There's supposed to be something going on, but I'm too lazy to narrate it.
Simon, having been a vegetable the entire story, suddenly jumps up and shouts, "Stop poking me! Jiminy Cricket, I'm bored too!" He grabs two sticks and starts poking Ralph and Jack. "How do you like it, huh?! 'I'm bored, I'm bored'!"
The narrator frowns upon this.
That makes you a lot less Jesus-like, for all the weirdos out there who strictly believe this is a religious allegory. Jesus wouldn't poke people with sticks, so stop being obnoxious and act meek, dammit!
Simon scowls and sits down again. Jack and Ralph rub their poking wounds.
"Aow." Piggy shakes his head reproachfully.
"I should take those sticks from you. You could poke an eye out." Ralph and Jack, both sore, snap,
"Oh, shut up!" Piggy wipes off his glasses quietly.
"Shutting up."
All right. Picture it: a little rock in the middle of the ocean, 1940-ish. A plane crashed there and went boom. Irony is, they were trying to save themselves from nuclear war. Yes, this might seem like the setting for a reality TV show, but it's not. Moving on... Lots of little guys are running all over the island, including a group of choir boys in black cloaks. (Yummy!) But, for some reason, we're looking at a scrawny blonde kid and a pudgy four-eyed boy. Go figure. Anyway, the fat guy says some stuff and the blonde boy does a couple of headstands. After a few minutes of useless talk, we find out the chubby one's name is Piggy (not really, but it's so fun to say) and the fair-haired kid's Ralph. But truthfully, nobody cares about these guys. Bring on the choir boys!
Ralph pushes back hair from his eyes.
"Piggy--"
"Don't call me Piggy."
"--is it just me, or does the narrator seem a little biased?"
"I don't know," mutters Piggy, "it's too darn hot to think. Besides, no one listens to me anyway."
"Oh." Ralph shrugs, not really listening to him, and wanders over to the shore. Staring in the water, he suddenly points. "Hey, what's that?"
"I don't see anything."
"No, it's--wait, I don't see anything either. That's not right." Ralph scratches his head for a moment. Then he shields his eyes and looks up at the sky. "Hey, there's supposed to be a conch shell in here! You know, to blow and summon all the boys?" He jabs a finger at the water. "How can I summon the boys if I have no shell?!" A plunk in the water shortly follows. Now he has a shell, the little whiner. Ralph bends and picks it up. "This isn't a conch!"
It's good enough.
Ralph shakes the thing at the sky. "This isn't even a shell! How are they supposed to hear this?!"
Look, we had to cut back on props. We had a budget.
Piggy grumbles and wipes off his glasses. "Please, Ralph, don't argue with the narrator. Just--" Ralph shoves the thing at him.
"This is a bloody kazoo! I can't call everyone on a kazoo!"
Stop whining and blow the damn kazoo.
Ralph mutters and puts it to his lips.
Go on.
The blonde boy blows on the kazoo, filling the island with... well... kazoo music. After a little while (and several choruses of 'The Ants Go Marching One By One'), there's all these kids gathered on the beach. Ralph finally turns blue and nearly passes out. While he's getting back his breath, out of the forest come--the choir boys! Crowds cheer, fireworks explode, a marching band plays the Star Wars theme and--
What? I can't do that? Dang.
Fine, then. The choir boys come out of the forest wearing black cloaks and caps. The one in front has red hair, freckles, blue eyes, and a gold badge on his hat. He's special. He squints at Ralph, having been half-blinded by the white sand.
"Where's the man with the trumpet?" the boy in front asks. Ralph blinks a little.
"There's no man with a trumpet! It's a kazoo, you twit!" And then Ralph so graciously shuts up unless he wants the narrator to remove him from this story.
"Give me a break!" The gold-badge boy drags a sleeve across his forehead and scowls. "I've been walking around in this cloak all day and I'm HOT!"
Damn straight.
Um, I mean... Piggy wipes off his glasses again.
"Why don't you take it off, then?" The boy blinks, then sticks his tongue out.
"Because I don't want to."
"What, you enjoy sweating?" Piggy's heading along the same line as Ralph. The gold-badge boy glares at him and tells his choir, who seems to be swaying rather dangerously, to stand up. Then one of them faints. Well, the boy wises up and takes off his cloak. Basically, everyone gets introduced. In the end, we got Ralph, Piggy, Simon, Roger, Samneric (who are twins, not a child with a freaky name), Bill, Maurice, some other kids and... Jack Merridew! Indeed, he would be the gold-badge boy. Well, they have a discussion and they decide they have to have law and order. Personally, I don't think it's that good of a TV show, but... the boys vote for chief. All the dorks vote for Ralph, but the choir cuties vote for Jack. Valiant as they are, they weren't enough. So Ralph is granted chiefship and a flick in the head from the narrator.
"Ow!"
You deserved it.
Ralph mutters and starts establishing his little community-thingy. Jack and his choir become hunters and other people do... stuff. The narrator gets bored with the beginning and turns the hands on her magical clock, making time go by very quickly and people sound like chipmunks when they talk. It stops after a few months have passed. Jack is trying to hunt, but loses sight of the pig. Therefore, he retires, grumbling, to the beach. Ralph and Simon are building huts out of Tinkertoys.
Hey, I felt sorry for them! Fine, fine. They're using sticks and leaves.
Jack ambles over and jabs his spear into the ground.
"The pig got away."
"I know," mutters Ralph, fumbling with the sticks, "I'm listening to the narrator." Jack grins.
"You're mad because she likes me better."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Look," cries Ralph, standing up quickly and knocking a hut over on Simon, "I'm mad because the Tinkertoys were a lot easier to build with, I haven't brushed my teeth in months, and I'm tired of getting flicked in the head!" The narrator, always one to please, flicks Ralph in the head. "OW!"
"See?" Jack leans back up against a tree. "I told you she likes me better."
"Why don't you go off and form a mutinous tribe on the other side of the island?!" snaps Ralph, rubbing the back of his head. The choir boy-turned-hunter perks.
"That's not a bad idea!"
"What?" mutters Ralph, digging Simon out from under the pile of sticks. Jack blinks and twiddles his thumbs.
"Nothing."
That, children, is an example of foreshadowing.
Well, time goes by. Little guys start getting scared, saying there's a beast on the island. So Ralph holds an assembly. Good for him.
"Listen, everyone. Hey--Hey, I've got the conch!" Ralph waves the shell around in the air. "I've got the conch! Listen to me!" Everyone's vaguely distracted by a bunch of kids sitting on a log. They keep falling over, which amuses the group to no end. It also annoys Ralph. Wow, two for one! "It's not that funny! Look, they're just going to fall over again!" Ralph tries to get back the group's attention. The kids fall off the log. Everyone laughs. "Look at me!" Ralph stomps the ground in frustration. Simon, being ignored, raises his hand contritely.
"I'm listening, Ralph."
"Chief's pet," hisses Roger, then throws some stones at Simon's head. Simon doesn't even flinch.
"Patience is a virtue." Roger blinks.
"What the bloody 'ell does that have to do with anything?" Ralph is still yelling at the group. The kids fall off the log.
"No!" Me!"
The kids fall off the log.
"C'mon, guys, just--"
The kids fall off the log. Ralph throws down the shell. "That's it! I've had it!" Fine. The guy wants a change of pace.
The log falls on Ralph.
"OW!" Ralph clutches his head as the group breaks into hysterics. Piggy sighs.
"Too late, Ralph. You lost them."
"Oh, shut up!" Suddenly, in a horrible twist of fate, the narrator's friend Racheal flicks Jack in the head. Jack yelps.
"Ow! What was that for?!"
That was for all the evil things you've done. You made the narrator fall in love with people like you! Plus, you killed Piggy! Damn you! Damn you to hell!
The narrator screeches and swats Racheal away from the story.
Leave him alone, you twit! He's mine!
Happy to be in control once again, the narrator gives Jack a candy bar and a pat on the bum. Jack blinks, rather confused, then shrugs and munches happily on the candy bar. Piggy's mouth waters as he watches longingly.
"Can I have--"
"All gone!" Jack pops the treat into his mouth and licks the chocolate from his fingers. Piggy sighs sadly.
"All right, then." Ralph sits up, groaning and rubbing his head.
"That entire conversation was pointless and stupid," he growls.
I know. Great, wasn't it?
Ralph scowls. "What kind of idiot do we have for a narrator?"
The kind of idiot that will drop a whole lot more than a log on you if you don't watch your mouth.
Ralph blinks. "Well. All right. We need to start helping on the shelters--"
Smart kid.
While Simon works on building the huts, Jack walks over to where he's standing. He starts talking about hunting. Racheal yells from the background.
Jack, don't you talk to him! Simon, don't listen! You sun-deprived evil child, don't talk to Simon! Simon, don't listen! You're strong! You can do it!
Then, for no apparent reason, Racheal smacks Jack in the face.
You don't talk to him or touch him. You understand?
"Yes, evil demon woman," mutters Jack.
Smack!
Off goes Jack crying to the narrator.
Girl, why are you babying that evil deprived--I mean, evil sun-deprived boy? Don't start getting on your soap box either because I don't want to hear it today.
The narrator pats Jack's back consolingly, snatching back the story from the evil Racheal.
Racheal, you are really asking for it--
Ralph watches, intrigued, while Simon tries to put the huts back together.
If you smack Jack one more time, I swear, I'll flick Piggy in the head!
Piggy gasps. "No! Listen to her, Racheal! You don't know what it's like to get flicked in the head!"
You touch Piggy and I'll kill the little choir boy. Stop babying Jack! Capish?
It's spelled 'kapesch', I believe.
Jack sniffles. "You'll keep her away, won't you? I'd kill her with my spear, of course," he adds hurriedly, "except it's hard to stab a mystical disembodied voice."
I know. Don't worry. I'll keep the evil demon woman away.
Ralph picks up a stick and starts poking Simon with it. "I'm bored." Simon just sits there being poked.
Look, you need to be quiet. We're having a serious discussion here.
Ralph sighs, jabbing Simon in the ribs boredly. Piggy is clutching his head in fright. "She's not really going to flick me in the head, is she?"
"No," mutters Ralph, "she only does that to me." The narrator, meanwhile, is arguing with Racheal.
He's not evil, you twit! He just needs a hug!
A hug my ass. If I suddenly turn evil, are you going to give me a hug? I think not!
The narrator huffs.
That's different! You're not an English choir boy with a black cape, are you?
Jack blinks a little. "Actually, I could use a hug."
In a minute, in a minute.
No, no hugging!
I'll hug him if I want!
The narrator hugs Jack.
See? Now I bet he won't go on a murderous rampage.
Jack grins. "I dunno. I still might. Let's have another hug and see."
Let's not get carried away.
"Aw! Please?"
...maybe later.
See? Now look what you've started! Bad narrator! Bad!
Hey! Would you rather he go and kill Piggy?
Jack waits impatiently. "Lookin' for a hug here."
Wait just a second. Racheal--
Jack sticks his lower lip out. "If I don't get a hug, I might do something bad--" The narrator hugs him.
Those freckles are so cute I can't resist.
I have freckles too! Where's my hug, huh?
...once again, you're not an evil English choir boy.
Jack pipes up. "With a black cloak! Don't forget that! That's very important!"
What do I have to do to get respect around here? Do I have to have a sex change or something?
...but Jack's just so cute!
"Yeah, damn straight!" Jack sticks his tongue out at Racheal. "You just wish you could measure up to my greatness." Suddenly, he gets another hug from the narrator. Jack blinks. "What was that for?"
Idunno. It just felt like it needed to be done.
Jack shrugs. "Fine with me."
You have no greatness! Besides, I've known the narrator longer than you have! You're only a figment of our imagination! Narrator, get off your damn soapbox! ...and boy, next time I see that tongue I'm tying it in a knot.
Jack claps his hands over his mouth.
I'm not getting off my soapbox until you acknowledge Jack for the cutie he is! BESIDES, HE'S NOT A FIG NEWTON OF OUR IMAGINATION! ...and Jack, you stick your tongue out at her whenever you want, honey.
Figment, not Fig Newton!
...are you calling my sweetie a cookie?
Piggy pipes up. "But they're not cookies! They're Newtons!"
...oh, shut up.
Jack, becoming bored, picks up a stick.
"Hey," calls Ralph. "Before you turn on me, wanna poke Simon?" Jack shrugs.
"Sure, why not?" He plops down beside Ralph and starts poking Simon. Simon, being the pacifist he is, just stares straight ahead.
Jack! Stop poking Simon! No! Come here, Simon.
Racheal gives him a big hug.
There. Ha. You're not the only one who can baby an English choir boy.
The narrator pokes Simon with a stick.
The guy's a vegetable. He hardly moves. He doesn't defend himself. See?
The narrator pokes Simon again. Jack and Ralph help.
Damn it, stop poking my baby! That's why I'm here; to stick up for him. Here, Simon. You can have a cookie, sweetie.
As Simon stares at the cookie, trying to figure out what to do, Ralph sets down his stick and checks his watch. "You know, we really should be finding the beast right about now."
Just make fun of Racheal's accent. It's almost the same thing.
Damn you! Just because I'm from North Carolina, I'm weird? Well, you're from England, so... shut up!
The narrator snickers.
Dadgummit.
Oh, shut up.
Simon picks up the cookie and begins eating it quietly. Jack pokes him one last time, then sighs. "I'm bored."
Yeah, me too. There's supposed to be something going on, but I'm too lazy to narrate it.
Simon, having been a vegetable the entire story, suddenly jumps up and shouts, "Stop poking me! Jiminy Cricket, I'm bored too!" He grabs two sticks and starts poking Ralph and Jack. "How do you like it, huh?! 'I'm bored, I'm bored'!"
The narrator frowns upon this.
That makes you a lot less Jesus-like, for all the weirdos out there who strictly believe this is a religious allegory. Jesus wouldn't poke people with sticks, so stop being obnoxious and act meek, dammit!
Simon scowls and sits down again. Jack and Ralph rub their poking wounds.
"Aow." Piggy shakes his head reproachfully.
"I should take those sticks from you. You could poke an eye out." Ralph and Jack, both sore, snap,
"Oh, shut up!" Piggy wipes off his glasses quietly.
"Shutting up."