This is what happens when you put three sugared-up teenage girls who've had to read OMM for school in the same room together on Halloween night. ;) Please feel free to take absolutely NONE of this seriously. This was written mainly for two of my friends and because I thought it would be fun. Now, if you'd like, enjoy the random ramblings of an Authoress who's had a bit too much Halloween candy!
~0~
Slim strode through the cemetery, hands jammed in his pockets, having decided that since, being the smartest of the characters, he'd go visit the other characters' graves just to gloat about his being the only one with enough sense and brains to be alive to be the main character of a random fic written on the whim of a sugar-high teenage girl. God, how privileged he was!
First he went over to George and Lennie's graves. Of course they were buried as a pair. Although George had made him and the other ranch workers swear to him that he would be buried at sea because he wanted to be as far away from Lennie as possible, even after he died. Oh, he'd been fond of Lennie when he was alive, but after Lennie died that had quickly changed.
Everywhere he went, he (and all his companions, who quickly grew irritated beyond belief) heard Lennie's ghost following him around everywhere, going, "Hey, George, can I tend the rabbits? You didn't answer me, George; don't I get to tend the rabbits? George? George, can I tend the rabbits? I want to tend the rabbits! Can I tend the rabbits, George? George, can I tend the rabbits? George? George!"
This insistent, innocent haunting by his old friend quickly sent George flying off the deep end. For a couple years toward the end of his life, he'd gone completely nuts whenever he heard or thought he heard the faintest trace of Lennie's voice, whipping around with a crazed look and screaming his head off.
"Lennie, shut up! You don't get to tend the rabbits! No rabbits for JOO! I don't have any rabbits! And you know what? There's no such thing as different color rabbits! No red, blue, and green rabbits! No tending the rabbits! And maybe, maybe, you know something? Maybe the rabbits don't even wanna be tended! Did you ever think of that! The rabbits don't love you! I don't love you!"
To which Lennie, to the shock of all present, said, perfectly calmly: "I don't love you either, George! I know we're not married! I'm sorry for everything I did to you when we were sleeping. I just wanted to tend your rabbits."
George's face when Lennie recounted past experiences was priceless, and Slim wished that someone would have invented a digital camera right that second.
And that was only the first time. Lennie's ghost would appear in the most random and inconvenient places after, still wanting to know if he could tend the rabbits. Slim didn't think Lennie realized he was dead and could not tend the rabbits. He'd show up in George's closet, George's lunch box, out of George's video camera when George was on a Richard Simmons imitation kick. He even appeared out of George's toilet at the most inopportune time. George had had an extremely hard time going to the bathroom for the rest of his life after that incident.
He'd also bought a gun of his own when his mind began to snap from Lennie's ghost constantly after him, wildly firing of six dozen rounds at a time whenever the ghost appeared, most of the time not even coming close to hitting him. It had been really very funny at first, but after he accidentally shot Whit in the face, they'd had to replace it with a plastic toy. Whit was a minor character, so his death hadn't mattered much to either of them (Slim doubted whether the readers even knew who he was talking about, and if they did remember, they had to think for a second before remembering) but it had been agreed by the other characters that they were too important to have an accidental death, resulting in the replacement. George hadn't known the difference – he was too busy yelling "KERSHPLOOM! KERSHPLOOM! KERSHPLOOM!" whenever he pulled the trigger to notice there were no sounds or bullets coming from the gun.
George had been one of the last to die, but he'd died freaking crazy. Even when he was older and gray-haired with a small farm of his own, he'd keep shuffling over to the town children, waving his cane and shouting, "Hey, kids, wanna tend some rabbits?"
To which the kids, thinking he was off his rocker, would yell, "It's Old Man Rabbit!" "Run away!" "In Soviet Russia rabbits tend you!", and then run off screeching like Indian stereotypes.
Ironically, it had been a rabbit that was the end of George. He'd gone into the woods one day, and according to Carlson, who'd been there with him, they had met a giant pink bunny. Carlson had sworn the bunny was trying to eat them – he'd denied eating Carlson's dog, but indirectly admitted that it had been a delicious meal, much to Candy's delight – and though they'd not fully believed him, George had gone back into the forest alone to hear the bunny's stories, and had never been seen or heard from again, nor had the alleged bunny. The fact that construction had caused the forest's demolition hadn't weighed heavily in the puzzle of the bunny's existence. At any rate, George had been presumed dead; and Curley had seen a vindictive opportunity.
Claiming to be sorry for what had happened to George at his father's ranch, Curley had offered to compose his epitaph. Slim had had his misgivings, but everyone else thought it was a gracious offer, and let Curley do as he pleased. Besides, any offer sounded good after what happened when they let Candy write Lennie's epitaph. In hindsight, they had made an unfortunate mistake with both, Slim thought as he reached their graves.
Lennie's epitaph read simply, I Want to Tend George's Rabbits. Candy had meant it kindly, but after the comments of Lennie's ghost, it was taken completely the wrong way. Now their memories would be tainted forever, Slim thought ruefully. It was too bad; they'd seemed like nice guys before it all went downhill. Still, it was lovely compared to what Curley had in mind.
Curley, wanting to get back at George and Lennie for humiliating him, had decided to make use of the fact that George's grave was right next to Lennie's and turn their deaths into an insensitive joke for his own amusement. George's epitaph read I'm With Stupid, with an arrow below it pointing to Lennie's tombstone. Curley had denied any ill intent, but it was never believed for a second. When they called him out on the fact that Lennie wasn't stupid, but mentally handicapped, he simply said that I'm With Mentally Handicapped wouldn't fit. And despite their efforts to have it changed for obvious reasons, the gravestones stayed the way they were.
Sorry, guys, Slim thought as he stepped past their graves to the next unfortunate pair, Carlson and Candy. Candy's grave was unquestionably the spectacle of the cemetery. Slim, walking up and stopping in front of it, honestly could not fathom how it could exist.
Unless it was built by….A-CHUCK A-NORRIIIIIIIIIIII -!
Blam. Blamblamblamblamblamblam.
Slim, having successfully shot down an approaching Chuck Norris joke-Nostalgia Critic reference combo, blew the smoke rising off the barrel of his gun away and calmly holstered it. Then he resumed gazing at the sepulchral wonder before him.
Candy, like Curley, had decided to take some vindictive pleasure regarding death and the grave. His epitaph read Carlson You Killed My Dog/ He Was the Only Love of My Life / Now I Shall Haunt You Forever / You Fat Fatty Fat Fat Fatty Fat Fat Fat Fatty Fatty Fat Fatty Fat Fat, etc. The gravestone stretched so far it spanned the whole world with that one continuous sentence, written in different languages as it ran through different countries and even written in Atlantean as it crossed the oceans. By all laws of physics, science, mechanics, reality, life, and the universe, such a gravestone could not be created. And yet it was there.
It MUST have been created by…A-CHUCK A-NORR-!
BLAM. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAMMITY BLAM BLAM.
Slim decided to keep his gun at the ready in case any more jokes of that nature tried to repeat themselves in a decidedly unfunny way, and then he moved to Carlson's grave. Carlson, as shown by his insane bunny delusions regarding George's death, had a tendency to believe in the supernatural. And after Candy's death, he'd never been the same. Granted, there hadn't been a ghost or a strange voice to be seen like in George and Lennie's case, but he'd still insisted to the end that there was something horribly wrong and Candy's ghost was to blame for it. But everyone else had thought that it was his recent interest in horror movies that was to blame for his problems, because really, there could have been no other explanation. His epitaph read Oh My God / Candy Is Freddy Krueger / He's Freaking Freddy Krueger / He's Gonna Hunt You Down In Your Dreams / Warn the People / The People Must be Warned!
Slim raised an eyebrow as he studied the grave. Maybe Carlson hadn't been totally right when he started insisting that Candy had turned into a demonic force that haunted people's dreams from beyond the grave in revenge for wrongs committed against him in life. But Slim had to admit that strange things had been starting to happen at night around the time Carlson started saying those things. And not that way, Slim thought in irritation, get your minds out of the damn gutter. All the children around town had started telling about the wonderful dreams they'd been having all night every night. What every child wanted to dream of, that's what they would get; anything they wanted to do, these amazing dreams would let them. Sometimes they'd even be able to pull things out of their dreams, like a favorite treat or a toy they wanted. Slim had remembered Candy having a soft spot for kids, and it did seem like the sort of thing he'd like to do to make them happier. But Carlson's dreaming situation was the polar opposite. He'd wake up howling about bloody skeletons, giant spiders, vampires that according to his descriptions couldn't possibly be real vampires (he said they sparkled, for heaven's sake), never-ending geysers of blood, discombobulated bodies, the most menacing boiler room in existence, Tom and Jerry doing musical numbers again, and every other bit of nightmare fuel imaginable. Carlson always said that Candy – whose missing hand was replaced by a gardener's glove with knives for fingers - was responsible for this torment, because he wanted to get back at Carlson for killing his dog, and the only reason he escaped was because Candy's ghost now had freakishly long arms and ran like a drunken Teletubby. For obvious reasons, no one had believed him, but it was a strange thing. After Carlson died, having accidentally smashed his head into a TV that was eight feet up on the wall, the dreams stopped coming to everyone. Maybe it was because Candy's vengeful spirit was appeased, maybe it was because Carlson's craziness had infected everyone and with his death the madness had stopped. Slim didn't know, nor did he care to puzzle it out.
He moved on to the next grave, one that seemed – to Slim – to have been put in the wrong cemetery. Perhaps a pet cemetery would have been more appropriate for Lennie's unfortunate puppy. A little grave was a sweet thing to do for the puppy – after all, Lennie had loved it, and hadn't meant to kill it. They had thought he might have liked to see it put to rest properly, so they'd buried it and given it a headstone. But unfortunately, even this had been messed around with. Candy had once again failed at composing a meaningful epitaph, and so the puppy's epitaph was No One Squeezes Puppies like Lennie. And that wasn't even the oddest part. Some strange, currently unknown person had altered the writing a bit. Lennie's name was spray-painted over and the name Gaston was painted in its place. Now this confused Slim. Why would someone do that? No One Squeezes Puppies like Gaston? What did that mean? Even now, years later, none of them had an explanation. Though there was the case of that brunette girl with a ponytail who called herself the Authoress and told them that the borders between fictional dimensions had been breached and that a certain Disney character had written his own name over Lennie's because he was trying to spread his ego through as many universes as possible, but that had just been too weird to believe. Then again, the fact that after they'd dismissed the girl's claim as ridiculous, she'd shrugged, saying it was their loss, and then hopped onto the back of a dark-haired boy with black wings that she called Fang and flown off with him had also been pretty weird. Slim sighed and moved on.
Slim had to smirk when he reached the graves of Curley and his wife. Curley's grave was the last that Candy had been involved with. After his death by rampaging psychotic sheep (Slim still couldn't make sense of that one), Candy had once again volunteered to deal with the matter of his grave. But he continued in messing up the epitaph, and this time the coffin as well. Candy, mistakenly thinking that Curley would like it, had filled the entire coffin with Vaseline. Candy claimed that he thought Curley might have liked to be preserved that way, since he'd always talked about the glove he kept filled with the stuff. As if that weren't enough, Candy kept up his tradition of unwittingly giving a double meaning to the epitaphs he wrote. Curley's grave read I Give a Good Job with My Hands. Sometimes Slim had to wonder if Candy had intended for all these double meanings. He sighed again before turning his eyes to Curley's wife's grave.
Candy had offered to compose her epitaph too, but the boss, knowing what a mess he'd unwittingly made of the others' graves, including that of his son, declared that he would do it himself. Unfortunately, he'd been just as bad at his task. When Curley's wife was alive, the boss had never been able to understand her speech. So, misunderstanding her desire to be put into the pictures, he hadn't had her buried in a coffin, but had instead had her body cremated and buried her in a giant sealed pitcher. Her gravestone read I'm Finally in the Big Pitcher. Slim rolled his eyes at how ridiculous this was, before moving on to Crooks' grave.
Crooks had been another alleged victim of Disney, according to the strange brunette girl and her winged friend. His death had come completely out of the blue, when a hostile-looking brown stallion had come galloping out of the shadows one winter. Crooks only had time to yell that this was the same horse that had kicked him and messed up his back as a kid, before the horse grabbed him and pulled him through what the girl said was a portal between fictional dimensions. Technically, it wasn't a death, since they didn't know what exactly happened to him. They still didn't really know, but they weren't about to believe the girl's claims that Judge Frollo's horse from Hunchback of Notre Dame (which, according to the girl, had galloped straight out of hell and into the Disney movies) had come and taken Crooks, the only black character in the book, had taken him into one of the only Disney movie that has black characters – Princess and the Frog. She said she didn't exactly know what had happened to him after that, but that she'd heard that he was doing relatively well. Right after that, an older boy with long white-blond hair and a brown leather jacket drove up and said that he had a message for them from Crooks. It was short and to the point – "See you, suckahs!" Before they'd even had time to make any sense of this, the greaser boy had gone, with the brunette girl and winged boy in tow. As for his gravestone, well…Curley had volunteered to compose his epitaph as well. After the job he'd done on George's grave, nobody wanted to let him do it, but nobody wanted to upset the boss' son and risk getting beat up by him or fired by his father, so Curley had the job again. He'd put a little more effort into it, he'd claimed, but not the least bit of sensitivity. Crooks' gravestone had the Forever Alone face carved into it. Slim suspected that the psychotic sheep had been sent to humiliate and kill Curley as punishment for being so insensitive towards race and mental disabilities.
Slim heaved one last great sigh as he turned from the graves and left the cemetery. Whatever had gone on with the deaths of the others, he was just glad it hadn't happened to him. And just as he thought that, he was suddenly attacked by –
A-CHUCK A-NORRIIIIIIS…RIDING A SHARK THAT'S AS BIG AS JAAAAAWS!
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAMMA BLAMMITY BLAMMO BOOM BANG BLAM.
Why, thought Slim as he holstered his gun, is the fact that recurring jokes coming back for revenge not the strangest thing I've seen today?