The Irony Gods: Chapter 1 (EDITED)
(The following is a true story I made up. Props to Daniel Tosh!)
Disclaimer: The characters depicted in the ensuing tale are purely fictional (at least to my immediate knowledge). Lydia is not a self-insert, so she and any other OCs I create are my own property and copyrighted under fair-use.
In addition, the "Saiyuki" characters are the sole property and copyright of Kazuya Minekura and anyone else she wants them to belong to. This is just a fanfic, not a copyrighted work, so I suppose you people may do with it what you will, so long as you don't post it as your own ramblings. That's called plagiarism, and that's wrong, according to my AP English teacher.
Side Note: To anyone who may care to know, there is no romance in this fic-just a few dirty jokes and a ton of violence and madness. All the mushy stuff is in "The Sequel", not here.
Side-Side Note (5/11/2013): If you are a returning reader, at the very bottom of this chapter you will find a special note. *hugs*
Sanity: A Total Lack Thereof
As most people of sane disposition are wont to point out, the common housecat cannot speak fluent Latin, fiction is not reality, and that thing growing on the back of Adam's neck is probably not an alien implant, but a malignant case of Melanoma (much to Adam's dismay, I might add). However, sometimes the fabric of reality can warp and bend, eventually becoming something akin to a hole in one's undergarments, but more cone-shaped, and glowing neon blue and silver.
I'd like to beat the guy who invented the digital projector.
Movie day in Economics. Deceptively enjoyable.
Mr. Wood decreed that the end of the year should go out with a bang, thus I had brought along my trusty Ren and Stimpy box set, intent on nearly an hour of twisted entertainment and psychological corruption. I put in the DVD and hit play. I sat back giddily, ecstatic to relive the best moments of my childhood. I screamed with everybody else in the classroom and ducked under my desk as the screen exploded and then imploded, becoming the aforementioned riff in the fabric of reality.
Oh, it was going splendid indeed.
I squinted into the light, briefly recalling a lesson in my survival training (i.e., monster movie marathon 2003). Lesson One: do not; I repeat: do not go into the light.
Yes, yes, valuable, nay, indispensable information! I covered my face and hoped against all odds that the riff would just close up and allow me to continue "Stimpy's Invention" in peace. If only I had a blanket to hide under, rather than this accursed desk! This wasn't an earthquake! It was an invasion of monstrous proportions!
And then I heard it. It was airy and ethereal, like the voice of an angel…except angry and impatient, and cursing a whole lot.
"If the two of you do not shut the hell up I'll shoot you both and leave your bodies to rot in the fields!"
I uncovered my face. No, it wasn't possible.
"Well tell the stupid monkey to quit eating all the meat buns, mighty leader! I don't feel like dying of starvation just because he's a bottomless pit!"
Surely the Irony Gods were looking down upon me at this moment and laughing their asses off.
"But I was so huuuuungry!"
"It has been a while since we last came upon a village, hasn't it? Our provisions are running low."
"I don't dive a damn. I'm just sick of the noise. Deal with food later. Now shut up or die."
I gaped at the "screen" in awe and almost smashed my skull in when I tried to stand up while still underneath the desk. "Aaarrrghh!" I cried in pain, falling back on the ground and rubbing the sore bump in the middle of my cranium. Why was it growing so big? No! Was I catching Adam's tumor?!
"Hey, what was that sound?" one of the voices said suddenly. Ah, the lovely voices in my head—wonderful to be a nutcase. I heard screeching tires.
"Yeah, it sounded like a girl screaming," another voice added, not a little eagerly.
"Get your brain out of the mud, kappa," the first voice growled testily.
"Oy, look. What have we here?"
There was a sound beside my collapsed fetal-positioned form, and a tap on my shoulder. Maybe if I didn't move, the pain would go away. And then I would be able to finish "Stimpy's Invention" in peace. Yes, pretend the pain is not real. Pretend that it's a bunny or something else equally fuzzy and adorable.
Pain is not pain. It's a bunny.
"Hey, d'ya think she might have a percussion?"
"That's concussion, moron, and I don't know. Maybe. Not that it's my problem."
"Now, now. We should tend to the young lady's needs. It would be a shame if she were to die like this."
Die? Was I going to die? And that voice…where had I heard it before? Think, brain, think! Why was I one the ground in the first place again? Okay, we were going to watch a cartoon. Mr. Wood threatened to send me to the dean for sitting on the desk. John complained that I never got in trouble with Mr. Wood. Mr. Wood made John stand outside in the hot sun. "Stimpy's Invention" came on and everybody was happy…and then….
Oh, yeah. A wormhole had appeared in the projector screen and I hit my head on the desk.
But wait, it was too hot. Was I outside? If so, where was the cloying humidity? Oh, so slowly, I unfolded my limbs and squinted up into a cerulean sky. A cloud shaped like—no joke—Cloud hovered on past my line of sight. What the crap? Where am I?
"Oh my, she seems to be conscious now," the kind voice said cheerfully. I was in pain, and this guy was cheerful?
I was about to express my individual views on this matter when I very suddenly stopped talking. A face had appeared above me. A smiling face, with a monocle and dark hair…and a pair of cuffs on his ear…and a tiny white dragon on his shoulder…and…
I shrieked, forgot that I was in pain, and sprang to my feet—ending up maybe twenty yards from the four of them in a matter of half a nanosecond. They stared at me, totally unsurprised.
Since when can I move this fast?
"Well, it looks like she's well enough to run around, at least," the blond one muttered, briefly taking a drag on a cigarette while swatting at the red-head with a large paper fan. "Put that down. That's not yours."
"Dammit that hurts, asshole!"
"Who do you think you're calling 'asshole', dimwit?!" More swatting ensued. Somehow this was perfectly normal.
"I apologize in advance for any offense you might take from their behavior," monocle said amiably. He had approached while the two were fighting and began to examine the enormous lump on my head. "How did you get this? I'm surprised that you're conscious."
I dragged my gaze away from the fighters—the paper fan guy had antennae-man in a headlock and was threatening to end his life unceremoniously early—and murmured, a bit winded, "I hit my head on the bottom of my desk. Where did my classroom go, and why is the Sanzo party in the projector screen?"
He blinked. "Projector? I don't know what you're talking about, but apparently you know who we are." He smiled cheerily. "You might have a concussion. We'll take you to a hospital and get you taken care of, okay?"
My turn to blink. "Uh, right. Thanks." I felt my head again and winced. Holy crap, I might have a concussion after all. No nausea, though. That was a plus.
The lump was still growing. I looked at my watch-less wrist to see how much of my DVD I had missed, then gave another, even louder yelp. Sanzo and Gojyo both gave a start and somehow slammed to the ground in surprise, throwing a cloud of dust into the air. Hakkai just smiled pleasantly, and Goku was too busy raiding the provisions to notice.
"I'm a cartoon?!" I cried, staring in utter disbelief at hands and arms and legs and clothes. No way in the real world was my hair capable of the great feats it had managed here. I had too much frizz!
"A cartoon?" Gojyo groaned from his prostrate position on the ground. He sat up and massaged his neck in irritation. "What the hell are you talking about?"
I stared at him. Antennae, my brain whispered to me in suspicion. "Er, so you're not all made-up characters adapted from ancient legends and mass-produced in manga and anime form?"
"What's that?" Goku asked in curiosity, ambling away from the bag and sitting on a nearby rock. We were in the desert, as far from Mr. Wood's class as imaginable. Crap, I was missing my show!
I frowned, totally baffled but willing to humor the Irony Gods. "Nothing, apparently."
Hakkai took charge. "Well, then let's get you in the jeep and take you with us to a doctor." He promptly took hold of my arm and led me to the others, then said to the little dragon on his shoulder, "Hakuryu, if you would be so kind?"
The dragon cheeped accommodatingly, flew over to an empty patch of sand, and transformed into a jeep with a flash of light.
I stared. Surely this was some sort of hallucination?
"Get in," Sanzo ordered impatiently. "The monkey ate all the food, and I'm not about to starve to death with you idiots." He climbed in first, shotgun.
"Um, Sanzo?" Hakkai asked in a friendly, offhand sort of way. "I believe the young lady should get the passenger seat, seeing as how we don't want Gojyo making bad impressions." The way he said it sounded pleasant…but…it was still kind of creepy.
"What?!" demanded the worldly priest. "Do you actually expect me to sit in the back with the two ingrates?!"
"Miss, what's your name, by the way?" Hakkai asked me, totally ignoring him. He was smiling, but a chill wind still blew through the hot desert.
"Lydia," I said—inoffensively, I hoped. Sanzo was swearing up a storm and complying as per Hakkai's request in the background, and I silently hoped that he wouldn't shoot me for taking his seat. The other two weren't very happy, either, but they were too busy avoiding the gun to voice their opinions.
"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Lydia." He led me around to the passenger's side and I sat down, still feeling like a neurotic but coping reasonably well considering the situation. Hakkai got in on the other side and started the jeep. "Okay, hang on tight!" We took off at a nearly breakneck pace, narrowly avoiding the pitfalls carved out of the sand dunes.
"One word out of either of you and I'll scatter your brains across the sand!" growled the priest. He sat right behind me.
I didn't look back, nor did I make any sudden movements, for approximately three hours.
(Back in Mr. Wood's Class)
"Hey, where did Lydia go?" Katt asked in confusion. "And what are we going to do about the projector?"
Adam scratched the bizarre growth on his neck and looked out the window. "Um, hey, Wood, John just passed out. I think he's got heat stroke."
"Oops!" murmured the teacher, running to the door and getting the kids to help him drag the unconscious child in. "Somebody get a wet cloth! We'll worry about Lydia later..."-he stared at John for a moment-"...if John lives, of course."
(Author's Note)
Okay, people. This is my first Fanfic ever, so please bear with me. This first bit is kind of short, but it'll pick up and get longer...and if nobody reads I'll take the hint and quit writing...yeah...THANK YOU TO PIXIE AND FAETH!
—Cyh Scaevola
(New Author's Note, as of 5/11/2013)
Hey, guys. I'm almost twenty-five now! It's been so long since I wrote this story, and the feedback still makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I know that some of you come back every once in a while, so on the off-chance that some of my old friends might see this, I just want to express my gratitude. You talk about having almost forgotten the humor in this story, but I'm guilty, too. I almost forgot how much I love writing for you. All you newcomers, too, have my sincere thanks. The one thing every writer needs is to feel like someone appreciates her style, even if it's unusual. After all these years, I can still come back and feel loved. Thank you. Even though I'm testing the waters with my book over on FictionPress, I think I have to come back and pick up where I left off...I miss Kon and Lyds and Comedy...I miss Sanzo and Hakkai and Goku and Gojyo...I miss writing in this world...I miss my readers.
Hopefully, I'll see you soon. Wish me luck!
-Cyh (of the current present)