THE HUNGER GAMES: A PARODY OF THE HUNGER GAMES

By: Myself

Dedicated to: Katniss Everdeen

And Peeta

And Gale

And all those who died

And to you, my readers

And especially to my dead bunny

I miss you Cuddles!

This will only contain random things that will be weird

And it will not make sense

ENJOY!

It has been a little while, and I have one thing to say: Never mind, I won't say it. I have a few chapters lined up, so remember to read much, review often! I would like to know that you think that I am a psychotic human being! Don't just keep me hanging! I enjoy it when people tell me that I've been knocked on my head as a baby, and so on and so forth. But, really, just try and enjoy the story. I try to make it as random as possible. And I write it during my business class!

Chapter 21: This is Actually Chapter 20

I wake up, confused. I just had a crazy dream in which I told a funny story and Peeta… goodness me, good thing that was simply a dream. Oh, wait a minute… that one kiss equals one pot of soup? I rush out of the sleeping bag to verify whether or not that whole thing occurred. Please let this be a clichéd Back to the Future type trope… but there it is, a fridge full of Capitol Food from the Capitol that Haymitch gave me. Oh well. At least Foxface is dead. Oh, wait, that was the dream. That is quite strange. Too bad it isn't a reality.

Suddenly, over the loudspeakers, one of the most annoying voices in the history of the entire world begins to converse with me again.

"Goooooooooooooood morning, Tributes!" Claudius says, overpronouncing the word 'good', which, if you'll believe it, is actually spelled with two o's. He starts speaking again, but is interrupted by the – apparently – new Panem anthem composed by John Williams. Very nice, but too many strings and too emotional. I prefer James Horner's; it had bagpipes and children's screams. In the background, I can hear Claudius screaming at someone again. These broadcasts are, probably, the most interesting part of the Games in general! Maybe I'll watch next year if I am not participating in them… OOOOHHH foreshadowing is so brilliant. I wonder who invented it? J.R.R. Tolkien? I hope so.

The anthem stops finally. The audience is probably too weepy now after that very moving piece by Williams. They should have taken something from Jaws or Indiana Jones, not Lincoln or War Horse. Claudius coughs, gaining composure.

"AHEM! Wow, that was a fairly spitty spittle spitball! I should cough them up more often. Does the stomach even digest hair?" It sounds like he's talking to someone else. I hear a bit of mumbling in the background. "Hmm, I didn't know that. Anyway, I have a very important announcement that will change the game, and so on and so forth. Would you like to hear it?"

I think to myself, 'of course, just spit it out Claudius.'

"I'm sorry Katniss Everdeen, I can't hear your thoughts. But if you'd like me to spit it out, just wait one minute… I know I'm not supposed to be a sponsor or anything, but…" There is a brief pause as… well, it sounds like there's some yelling in the background. Goody, good show chap! About 50 seconds later, I hear the very – well, more like slightly slash not at all – familiar whistle of a parachute. Oh, goody! Maybe Haymitch got me some more food! I can't help but pig out on Capitol Crunchies! I open the little package… EW! It's a spitty spittle spitball! Le yuck!

"There you go Katniss, now please close your mouth and listen to the announcement, you ungrateful son of a gun."

I don't think that Claudius Templesmith understands what the expression "son of a gun" Means. I read this little tidbit in some sailor's dictionary, encyclopedia something or other:

"Son of a gun, an epithet conveying contempt in a slight degree, and originally applied to boys born afloat, when women were permitted to accompany their husbands to sea; one admiral declared he literally was thus cradled, under the breast of a gun-carriage."

"HEY, CLAUDIUS!" I yell. Perhaps Cato or Clove or Foxface will hear me and kill me with an assortment of various sharp or elongated arms, but I am OK with that, because there is nothing worse than having to fall in love with Peeta. Oh, did you hear that? GASP! Inner turmoil alert.

"OK Katniss, I'm listening to you. You've got 27 and a half seconds, now reduced to 23, now I think it might be at 17 or something like that…"

"Oh, never mind. I was just going to tell you that you used the expression 'son of a gun' in a not-quite-very-good context, as it should be used as in 'you very lucky and well-endowed person with skills equal to or greater than—"

"OK, times up. I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!" As Claudius starts to speak in a grumbly, overly-melodramatic voice, Peeta steps out of the cave and starts making caveman sounds. He has a bad fever, and his wound is very bad. It says mean things to me and makes me feel hurt, but anyway, Peeta is under the influence of sickness. Which is the worst drug, if you know what I mean. You don't? Well that's too bad.

Claudius starts speaking, and Peeta actually stops making caveman sounds and listens intently. "TRIBUTES! Ladies, gentlemen, children who will likely die within a few days, and our very special friends, muttations, who will quite likely devour one or more of you… tomorrow, at sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset, etc… there will be a feast! And not just a regular feast, but a feast fest! It will be a festive feast fest – festering wounds will be made into dead children, and this feast fest will festivate festivalus fest feast."

Claudius is one of those people who tries to make random puns and tongue twisters out of nowhere, often making up words to make them better, such as "festivate" which, according to spellcheck, is not a real word. Peeta looks up at me and then winks. I don't know why, he does random thinks all the time.

"Well, that's all Tributes. Except that this feast will contain one item that you need absolutely for your survival. Such as Katniss and Peeta? They need some medicine to heal Peeta's intense leg wound. I mean, he can't even walk right now, he's extremely vulnerable. Foxface, hey, I'm talking to you girl. Once you hide in the Cornucopia and rush to get your backpack before anyone can kill you – although they will have the time, but you know, they're lazy slobs – after you get the backpack, go to the cave! You could kill Peeta and Katniss!"

I don't know why Claudius is revealing our location. That's not very kind of him. I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS! Actually, I didn't, I just felt like saying that in an over dramatic tone.

"Ok, swick – get it, a mixture of sweet and sick? I thought of it myself."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

For reference, Claudius Templesmith did not think up the word 'swick'. Remember, he is a fictional character and, thereby, cannot create words. If there is anyone who made up the word 'swick', it is the author, who is currently writing this author's note.

END AUTHOR'S NOTE

I'm going to have to contact Editor Bob, because swick? I invented it. IT'S JUST NOT FAIR!

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Bob is currently out of town, and did not receive Katniss's fictional letter to Bob. I might enclose it later on in the narrative if absolutely necessary, but don't count on it hunny. May I call you hunny? No? Then good day sir.

END AUTHOR'S NOTE

Too bad that Bob is currently out of town otherwise I would deliver him the letter. Oh well.

"Trout, out!" Claudius Templesmith's name is not trout; his nickname is not trout. He just says trout out because it rhymes. He changes rhymes ever other Hunger Games, so next year, it should be something different. "Hiya Kaya" anyone? No? Maybe I'll send a letter to Bob to tell him suggest that and put a copyright on it, ya knoo, ya knoo, YA KNOOOOOOOO. Oh my, I am exhausted. Well, where was I? TROUT!

Claudius Templesmith has stopped talking, so I go into the cave, followed by Peeta, and go to sleep. Just kidding. I go into the cave and take out my cellphone to phone Haymitch. YAY!

"KATNISS!" Peeta yells at me. "NO MOBILE DEVICES WITHIN THE ARENA! IF YOU DO NOT THROW IT INTO MY HAND I WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO DO SOMETHING YOU WILL NOT LIKE!"

"Like what?" I retort, using a pretty cool word like "retort".

"Um…" Peeta says, being uncool and having to be talked about with a cliché and generally boring word like "says". "Well… I might murder you?" he says again. How uncool.

"Oh, yeah, like you could even walk far enough to have the capability of running away from muttations that look like they have other Tributes' eyes," I retort, using a cool word like "retort" and a cool literary technique like "foreshadowing" in the same sentence.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Pardon me for being verbose – a word which here means "annoying, ignorant, stupid interrupter of terrible dialogue and not-very-witty people" – but I must alert you to a very grave and dangerous thing called foreshadowing. If you would rather have a happy life filled with images of butterflies and hot dead turkey slathered with gravy, don't listen to a word said in English class. I once…

EDITOR'S NOTE

Pardon me for interrupting the author's extremely fascinating, although poorly critique of the school system, but I believe that it is my duty to tell you to stay in school and to now skip English class. If you would like to be a poor hobo who spends his time running from secret organizations and various villains with tattoos of an eye on their ankle, remain in English class. Besides, you know someone is noble if they are very well-read. I, for example, read three books yesterday. One was boring, one was a page long and very exciting, and the other was a secret a disguised secret document, containing a hidden code that I pretended to not understand when one of my enemies entered the room…

END EDITOR'S NOTE

…cheesy tacos.

END AUTHOR'S NOTE

"Haymitch, if you are here, know that I am alive and well," I yell at no one in particular. Ew, I suppose that yelling is a bit unflattering… "I have been stranded on a remoted island by that Effin' Trinket! Because she picked my name!"

"What an Effin' Trinket!" Peeta screams at me. I suppose that screaming is more unflattering than yelling…

"Anyhoo, Haymitch, it would be remarkable (insert fake French accent) if you could send me something delicious that would help me get to the feast, because I have a weird feeling that Peeta will not let me go because he doesn't want me to die, or some junk like that."

Suddenly, I hear a klunk outside. Oh my! It's an anvil! And it fell on Peeta's leg!

"AAAAAAHHHHHGhfjdkgheowi" Peeta screams in pain and agony, ignoring grammar and proper manners, which might include saying "Ow, that hurt a bit, would you please remove that anvil from my leg Haymitch, thank you." Peeta yells a variety of words – perhaps, more appropriately, a Cornucopia of words, anybody? No? OK. – that just seem to becoming worse and worse and worser and badder grammer aind spelyng. Finally he stops and then winks at me, a symbol that he's just giving those chaps in the Capitol a good show. GOOD SHOW!

Then, all of a sudden, there's a thump that comes from outside of the cave. It's another parachute thinger! Maybe Haymitch sent me a pony! Only one person in all of the Hunger Games history has ever gotten a pony as a gift . Hey, you see that? It's a sad face. Read between the lines, budso. I open the little box. It's a note! Ooh! I wonder how much money Haymitch wasted sending me this stupid note. It reads:

Dear Katniss,

I know that your intelligence is even less than that of Peeta's, so I am sending you this note instead of him.

Anyway, the weather is fine here, in case you asked. Nice fireworks hunny. Now, what am I saying? I'm just kidding of course. Anyway, where was I? I somethhimes because I'm dru—oh, right, the feast. I had a very nice one with Cinna the other night. Well, it was nice until he started to touch me strangely… I don't really remember last night much… but, anyway, back to your very special feast tomorrow.

You can't let Peeta stop you from going because, even though his injury is very bad and so on and so forth, he'll try at all means to try and stop you. From experience: don't let him near a possum, a skunk, or a vat of fake vomit. He'll throw it at you like there's no tomorrow. Probably because the chances of there even being a tomorrow are very slim…

Anyway, you must go to the feast and get the backpack or whatever that will be waiting for you there because there's some medicine for Peeta's leg. He might've recovered within a decade, but then that anvil fell on him, sent from Foxface's district. Hey, I'm calling her that too! Strange… But, they didn't like the fact that you dreamed that Peeta caused her death. Now, don't ask me how they now what you dreamed, I'm just s human being wasting money on sending you a letter that you will read and probably die because PEETA'S GOT A KNIFE! Lol. Just kidding. I'm actually pretty funny. WOAH, I'm sounding like you now! Gotta go to the store and get some more alcoholic beverage! Now, say beverage with a French accent… bev ur auje! It's a fancy schmancy word that quite enjoy and I hope you aren't reading this right now because PEETA HAS A KNIFE!

In summary: Take this sleeping whatever, give it to the goat (formerly known as Peeta) don't ask me why I called him a goat!), go to the feast and be festive etc., and then beware of Foxface who will fdjklasdj

Sincerely,

Hey Mitch!

Sorry, I just saw my friend Mitch and thought I would write down what I said.

Sincerely,

Haymitch

Wow, that was a strange letter. I turn around to see if Peeta has a knife. I don't know why Haymitch would tell me that Peeta have a knife if he in fact doesn't. I trust Haymitch a lot since he is the person lining up the sponsors for me. I must trust him… but no, Peeta doesn't have a knife… he has a stick!

"PUT DOWN THE STICK PEETA! Remember what happened with the scissors?"

I don't think he can understand what I'm saying because he's still writhing in pain, agony, and despair under the anvil. Well, I have to wonder: is he giving the Capitol a GOOD SHOW CHAP! Or is he actually in pain, agony, and despair? It doesn't matter. I don't care either way. I walk over to Peeta. I need to feed him the sleeping potion… but first I'll get him out from under the anvil. As I'm pulling him out – a quite difficult task – he gives me another wink. Then he decides to have a few winks, and he goes limp in my arms. Well. This couldn't have gone any worse.

But, it could have gone worse. What if Cato and Thresh, in the heat of battle, suddenly came, saw me, teamed up on me, killed each other, leaving Clove to say mean things to me and ruin my self-confidence without Peeta there to reassure me? That would be absolutely unthinkable. So things could have gone worse. And they still could… I hurriedly rush Peeta out from under the anvil and drag him into the cave. I put him in the sleeping bag, and give him a few extra-hard slaps to try and get him to wake up. On the twenty-sixth slap, he yells out a loud howl and jerks approximately forty-nine centimeters into the air. Very fascinating manoeuver, I must say…

"Katniss! Where are the badgers?" Peeta asks me. He must be delirious or something like that. Good, maybe I can hypnotize him and get him to do something funny and/or strange that will make the audience laugh and throw money at their screens because they love me so much.

"You are very sleepy… you have no control over yourself… you are going to follow your hidden desires…" I say, bobbling pendulum in front of his eyes.

"I… I am very sleepy… I have no control over myself… oh, Katniss! I will follow my hidden desires!" Peeta then throws himself at me. "Take me Katnip!" he says. Woah, these are pretty strange inner desires. Well, at least I'm a good hypnotist. Maybe NBC will be desperate enough to make a show about me…

"OK Peeta, I know, I know, it's OK, but now it's time to go to sleep." I snap, and Peeta goes to sleep. The day has passed very rapidly; it is night now, so I decide to set my alarm clock/cool grenade for sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset! I mean, just sunrise.

WOAH! I USED A SEMI-COLON! THAT AUTOMATICALLY MAKES ME A COOL PERSON!

And then I fall asleep. But how do I narrate myself falling asleep in the present? Think about, think, think about it.

There was one Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series reference in there... some Peeta *whistle*ing, and a small poke at the fact that NBC had the worst programming on television except for Parks and Recreation and Community, and maybe some other shows I haven't seen. Next chapter will probably already be up by the time that you (and by you I mean NO ONE!) read this, so continue on!