Author's note: "Horrible Rhino Story" is the penname for two girls, ages sixteen and fourteen respectively, who were very bored on a thirteen-hour car trip and decided to try and write the worst story ever written, alternating sentences. We believe that this is the second-worst story ever. The worst story ever can be found on our profile and is entitled, "The Epic Adventure of Colonel Rhinoceros Brandon."
Here are some of the characters you'll meet in this story, other than Mr. Darcy, who I HOPE you all know very well by now.
Prince Edward is from the Disney film "Enchanted,"(played by James Marsden, who also played Corny Collins in Hairspray) and Prince Eric is from "The Little Mermaid.". Chef Louis is the French chef from "The Little Mermaid." In the Broadway musical adaptation, he looks very similar to another musical theatre character, the comically evil Count Fosco from Andrew Lloyd Webber's "The Woman In White." This is important in the story. Count Fosco was played by Michael Ball on Broadway. Marius Pontmercy is from Les Miserables, and was also played by Michael Ball. This is important in the story, too. Well, enjoy!
It had been a perfectly fine day for Mr. Darcy, until the highway robbers pulled him over.
"Prince Edward? Prince Eric? Hercules? Why did you guys pull me over?" he asked, lowering his sunglasses.
"Because," panted Prince Eric, looking ragged and wild-eyed, "We invested all of our money in the yogurt market, and it crashed and went bankrupt after weasels took over the dairy corporation and replaced all the world's milk with their own."
"You're the richest man in Derbyshire, wherever that is!" chipped in Edward. "So, we're going to steal everything you own!"
"All I have now is this disgusting fish taco and a Mickey Mouse groom hat. Plus three used bandages," Hercules sighed.
"Ooh, trade you for my broken aquarium, stained bloomers with all of the elastic stretched out, and 'I LIKE IKE' campaign buttons from 1955!" squealed Eric, jumping up and down madly and licking Mr. Darcy's car door.
"Ignore him," said Edward. "Eric went insane after the yogurt market crashed and his wife left him for Raoul!"
"I'm not actually sure if Prince Eric was ever especially sane," Hercules sighed, laughing. "Besides, I never invested in the yogurt market. I hate yogurt. I'm lactose intolerant."
"Then why are you even here?" asked Darcy nervously.
"Because, like I said, all I have is a fish taco, a Mickey Mouse hat, and three used bandages. Being a hero may get you a lot of glory but, apparently, it doesn't pay much," sighed Hercules. "My wife left me for Terrence Mann."
"Yeah, my wife left me for Corny Collins," Edward said.
"I hate fish tacos," said the insane Eric out of the blue, dreamily shredding his shoes into confetti. "They remind me of my wife."
"Oh, you miss her?" Darcy said sympathetically.
"No, I just didn't like her."
"Well, then, what do you plan on doing with my money?" Darcy asked, starting to accept his fate.
"We plan on building a strip club," Edward said cheerfully. "With all-male strippers. It'll be a hit. Gaston's doing the opening act. We're going to build it in Camp Minnie-Mickey in Disney's Animal Kingdom. Wanna help?"
"Um, you guys, Camp Minnie-Mickey is sort of for little kids. Besides, who would want to go to an all-male strip club?" Darcy said.
"Well, we figured this would open it up to more adult clientele," Hercules explained.
"Start 'em young, that's what I say!" Eric giggled wheezily, casually peeling all of the skin off of his left leg and devouring it. "Besides, that's how I like 'em, heh-heh-heh!"
"Well, I suppose I could donate…"
"I don't think you understand, Darcy," Edward interrupted cheerfully. "It's not as if you have a choice. We'll take all of your money anyway." He laughed cheerily, then checked his teeth in the blade of his sword.
"Money? Pish-posh! We want you to perform!" cried Hercules. "You're the sexiest man in Derbyshire, wherever that is!"
"What about Wickham?" Darcy asked desperately, taking into special consideration Wickham's extensive collection of naughty undergarments.
"We're not sure he's a guy. Besides, practically all of the women in the world have seen him naked already," Hercules responded.
Darcy thought about that for a minute. "Well, that's true," he admitted. "But there's a reason why I'm never seen na—"
Suddenly, a sinister figure dropped from the sky. It was Chef Louis! "I heard you're opening a strip club. Can I come?" he boomed.
Eric looked really disturbed. "If I'd known you swung that way, I would not have shared that dressing room with you."
"No, you silly!" Chef Louis cackled malevolently. "I want to perform!"
"What?" everyone cried, including Mr. Darcy, looking at the 725 pound man who was trying to take off his clothes.
"You've just scarred me for life," Hercules moaned, shielding his eyes. "I've slain dragons and bulls and fought Amazons and irate gods, and this is the first time I've been afraid."
"Oh, I think you'll agree to let me participate when you hear what I'll do if you don't."
"Whatever it is, it can't be much worse than what we just saw," Edward said.
"Ah, but it is!" hissed Chef Louis. "You see, I am secretly Count Fosco, and I control the yogurt market! You are all my puppets, and it is I who manipulates your strings! I made you go bankrupt! I drove your wives away! I inspired Mr. Darcy to drive down this road! It was all part of my grand scheme!"
"Are you the reason those twelve cake dancers showed up at Pemberley last week?" Darcy asked.
"No. No, they got the wrong address. They were for Bingley."
"GASP!" gasped Darcy.
"But I AM the reason why Elizabeth Bennet, the girl of your dreams, refuses to speak to you."
"GASP!" gasped Darcy.
"And now, I'm the reason why you're all going to die today!" shouted Chef Louis, brandishing a death ray thinly disguised as a lobster.
"I know you looked shady when I let Grimsby hire you. Not really a cook. Not really French. I bet you're not even 725 pounds."
"Well, you've got me there," admitted Chef Louis. "I'm actually 724 pounds."
"BAMBOOZLED!" screamed Prince Edward, throwing his sword to the ground.
Suddenly, Marius Pontmercy came yodeling to the rescue, swinging in on a vine. "Stop right there!" he demanded.
"Wait a minute, Marius. Isn't this a bit out of character? I mean, you always just do nothing. Heck, a girl and an old man had to save your sorry behind at the barricade. How pathetic can you get?"
"THIS PATHETIC!" screamed Marius, socking him one in the jaw and then kicking him in the nose. Chef Louis' corpulent figure sprawled unconscious on the ground, bleeding tomato sauce.
"I'm sorry you had to witness that," Marius said meekly, chastely dropping his eyes before the four agog leading men. "This man who calls himself 'Chef Louis' is actually Count Fosco, my evil future self, who travelled to the past in a stolen time machine created by my roommate, Courfeyrac, to seek revenge on you four."
"But why?" said Hercules.
"Because you gentlemen are rather attractive and got the women in the end. Count Fosco doesn't, and his 725 pound body doesn't help with the 'attractive' portion."
Count Fosco sat up straight and yelled "724!" and then fell back onto the ground.
Suddenly, a horde of middle-aged women came thundering over the horizon, blocking out the sun with their thousands of numbers. "AMAZONS!" cried Hercules, trying unsuccessfully to hide himself behind Eric.
"OMG, Michael Ball!" yelled one of the women.
"OMG, two Michael Balls!" yelled another one.
"OMG, how does that even make sense?" yelled the first one.
"OMG, who cares?" yelled the second one.
Chef Louis/Count Fosco sat up, blinking at the sight of his fangirls. Then, he suddenly ripped off a fat suit and ran toward them, beaming like a child in a candy store.
"I knew it," muttered Eric.
Marius grinned, his hands on his hips. "My work here is done," he said, ascending into the heavens in a shower of glitter.
The four heroes exchanged glances.
"You know," said Prince Edward at last, "Maybe a strip club is a bad idea."
"You're right, mate," said Hercules. "Let's go to the Kennedy Space Center instead." And he, Edward, and Eric skipped into the sunset, arm-in-arm.
Darcy stood there, blinking for a moment and reflecting on the incredibly strange day he'd just had. At last, unable to comprehend what had happened, he collapsed back into the drivers' seat of his barouche. "I am SO late for work," he said.
THE END
Note: We are madly in love with Michael Ball and mean no disrespect.