Chapter Six - Skip and Mike Are Jealous and Want Me to Make Fun of Them
"SO?" Axver YELLED annoyingly. He was slowly flicking sprinkles off the spaceship, complaining the entire time and muttering things like, "In AUSTRALIA..."
"No, okay? NO. I can't try and fix your bloody spaceship until you clean the doughnut crud off," Jim retorted, trying to ignore the wailing coming from the east. It was impossible to do so. "Can't you make her SHUT UP?" he exclaimed. "She seems to be pretty impressed with you."
"Well, of course," Axver said, taken aback. "Why wouldn't she be?"
"Of course she would be!" It was an unfamiliar voice, and Jim realized with shock that it came from the camoflauged girl - "Princess."
"She SPEAKS!" he gasped.
Princess turned to Jim and glared. " ," she said.
"Oh, I hate you."
"See," Axver proclaimed, "You're mean and hateful. You shouldn't be hateful. I hate you." Proud of his announcement and enjoying it, he decided to add, "I'm writing a book, you know."
"No. You don't say."
Princess bounced over to Axver and smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. "Reeeeally? Oh, Axver! I bet you're a WONDERFUL author!" She giggled and added, "*.*!"
Axver blushed, or he would have, had it not been far too humble. "Yes, I know I am," he said. "I'm better than Shakespeare, even. He wasn't very good, you know. I was bored with his writing when I was three."
"That old, eh?" Jim raised an eyebrow. "What, were you in the remedial reading class?"
"I'll admit I was a bit slow when it came to comprehending Shakespeare," Axver countered cooly. "I don't suppose you can do any better?"
Jim grinned. "Probably not. I just thought I might write a book. Have you ever thought about doing that?"
Axver glowered, as many people in this story were prone to do, and returned to cleaning the doughnut goo off of the ship.
Suddenly a RAY OF LIGHT shot down from the sky, originating from a Really Big Spaceship Thing. Cough, cough. No pun intended. After shouting a good number of insults at both Jim Hawkins and the general population of the galaxy, the Really Big Spaceship Thing lowered itself to the ground. A Really Big Door on the Really Big Spaceship Thing opened, and in the dramatic fog and smoke and mist that surrounded the door, a shadowy figure could be seen.
"Baaaa," it said.
The author is envisioning a commercial break here, for some reason.
"Trust your instincts," Obi-Wan said.
Okay then...
[dramatic music]
Having trouble sleeping?
Stricken about that test grade?
Guild-ridden over your latest water flea murder? [/dramatic music]
[peppy music]
We can help! *two people dressed in solid, neon colors sprint onstage*
This can, this can, this can HERE can help you. The contents are nicely irrelevant, but the CAN . whoa. You know the airplane?
Nothing.
A bug. A water flea, in fact.
Consider it crushed. THE CAN is the solution.
[music swells]
Just CALL NOW and order your own, personal, specially personalized, unique CAN. Available for the LOW price of $7.89 in 587 easy installments. The can will be specially shipped to the deserted island near you.
CALL NOW!!
[/End commercial]
We return to the characters two seconds before we left them, in a dramatic repetition of the sheep scene.
As Jim, Axver, and Princess stared, the sheep trotted down from the spaceship, followed by two people who, as was evidenced by their costumes, were obviously Evil Pirates. The blond one wore a penguin ducttaped to her shoulder at a precarious angle. The dark haired girl wore a patch over her eye and was saying, "ARRR!" emphatically to trees, blades of grass, and everything she saw.
The sheep trotted over to the confused threesome.
"BAAA!" it said.
"Sheep," Jim observed.
" !" Princess cried.
"Australian sheep are better," Axver muttered.
"Mike," the blond girl said after the "arr-ing" went on for a considerable amount of time. "You shipoop just say that to everything you see."
"Skip," the girl named Mike said, as if talking to a small child. "The word is CAN'T. And yes, I can. I am a PIRATE. It is what I DO."
"R FACTOR! R FACTOR! R FACTOR!" A horde of overzealous Elms fangirls raced into the scene, with murder blazing in their eyes and Sharpies in hand. They were always prepared. The first one jumped on Mike's shoulders and began hitting her in the head.
"OW! OW! OW! GRR! Get off me!"
"R FACTOR!" the cry began again, as the crowd reveled in the stolen concept. They could not, of course, create a joke for themselves.
"No," Skip argued. "That was NOT R factor. The word 'grr' ENDS in R! You shipoop call it --"
"It's CAN'T, Skip. CAN'T. FANGIRLS! GET OFF OF ME! I have VERY IMPORTANT RESEARCH TO DO!"
They didn't listen, and continued attacking poor Mike with Sharpies, cameras, and posters.
Jim Hawkins was watching this exchange in horror, and realizing that the fangirls bore an uncanny resemblance to Princess. No one should suffer in such a manner.
"LOOK! IT'S THOM!" he shouted suddenly, and pointed into the spaceship the Evil Pirates had vacated. A chorus of piercing screams arose, and the girls stampeded into the ship. Skip and Mike quickly slammed the door shut.
"That," Skip gasped, "was horrible. Don't ever make us go through that again." She glared at the author. "I don't think we should be in this story, Mike...Mike?"
Mike was on her hands and knees on the ground, staring into the grass. ("We have BETTER grass in Australia!" Axver said). Princess sighed with teenybopper disgust. Skip and Jim peered at the ground, trying to understand.
"It's...a new species," Mike breathed. She pointed in awe at a small snail.
"You've never seen a snal before?" Skip said flatly.
"What's a snal?" Jim whispered.
"SMAIL! Er, SNAIL! Don't mock my typing!" Skip glowered, because it was The Thing To Do.
Mike gazed at the snail in wonder. "This is a rare species of snail that I have never seen before. EVER. Why, it's a new species of snail! I have devoted my life to studying the genetics of snails, which are, I might add, extremely fascinating. Why, did you know -"
They stared, waiting.
"I have to pee!" Mike announced cheerfully.
Silence.
"What...about the snails?" Jim asked slowly, confused.
"Oh, they're fascinating." She nodded.
"Are you going to tell us why?" he prompted.
"No," she said simply, content with this. "I have to pee. Do you?"
"Uh, no."
"Skip, do you?"
"Mike, this isn't Lori Wick. We don't have to use the restroom every five minutes, you know." Skip looked proudly at her last sentence, pleased every word had come out exactly right and without typo.
"I know we don't. Except I need to. And want to. Because it's FUN! Like the Hallmark card. Don't you think?"
"Australian cards are better," Axver sniffed haughtily. "So are Australian bathrooms."
" !" Princess said.
"ALL bathrooms are fun," Mike insisted, as if she had discovered the meaning of life and was now able to explain it to everyone. "How could you think otherwise?"
"Because I'm BETTER than you, you stupid American!" he shouted. The penguin on Skip's shoulder toppled over.
"HEY!" she cried indignantly. "You made my pinguin fall down!"
Mike giggled. "Your what?"
"My pinguin! My pet pinguin!"
"Your WHAT?" Jim asked, enthralled.
"THE PINGUIN THAT WAS SITTING ON MY SHOULDER!" she yelled in frustration. "The black and white Arctic bird that was --"
"The PENGUIN?!" Mike and Jim exclaimed at the same time, still staring at her, amazed.
Skip blinked. "That's what I said. The pinguin."
Mike giggled. "That's SO CUTE! The 'ping'uin!" She grinned at Skip endearingly for a moment, and suddenly exclaimed, "Okay, I have to pee!" and ran off.
"Does she always vanish so...suddenly?" Jim wondered, as Mike had been standing beside him partaking in the conversation a split second before.
"Be lucky you've seen her at all," Skip said wisely.
"SO?" Axver YELLED annoyingly. He was slowly flicking sprinkles off the spaceship, complaining the entire time and muttering things like, "In AUSTRALIA..."
"No, okay? NO. I can't try and fix your bloody spaceship until you clean the doughnut crud off," Jim retorted, trying to ignore the wailing coming from the east. It was impossible to do so. "Can't you make her SHUT UP?" he exclaimed. "She seems to be pretty impressed with you."
"Well, of course," Axver said, taken aback. "Why wouldn't she be?"
"Of course she would be!" It was an unfamiliar voice, and Jim realized with shock that it came from the camoflauged girl - "Princess."
"She SPEAKS!" he gasped.
Princess turned to Jim and glared. " ," she said.
"Oh, I hate you."
"See," Axver proclaimed, "You're mean and hateful. You shouldn't be hateful. I hate you." Proud of his announcement and enjoying it, he decided to add, "I'm writing a book, you know."
"No. You don't say."
Princess bounced over to Axver and smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. "Reeeeally? Oh, Axver! I bet you're a WONDERFUL author!" She giggled and added, "*.*!"
Axver blushed, or he would have, had it not been far too humble. "Yes, I know I am," he said. "I'm better than Shakespeare, even. He wasn't very good, you know. I was bored with his writing when I was three."
"That old, eh?" Jim raised an eyebrow. "What, were you in the remedial reading class?"
"I'll admit I was a bit slow when it came to comprehending Shakespeare," Axver countered cooly. "I don't suppose you can do any better?"
Jim grinned. "Probably not. I just thought I might write a book. Have you ever thought about doing that?"
Axver glowered, as many people in this story were prone to do, and returned to cleaning the doughnut goo off of the ship.
Suddenly a RAY OF LIGHT shot down from the sky, originating from a Really Big Spaceship Thing. Cough, cough. No pun intended. After shouting a good number of insults at both Jim Hawkins and the general population of the galaxy, the Really Big Spaceship Thing lowered itself to the ground. A Really Big Door on the Really Big Spaceship Thing opened, and in the dramatic fog and smoke and mist that surrounded the door, a shadowy figure could be seen.
"Baaaa," it said.
The author is envisioning a commercial break here, for some reason.
"Trust your instincts," Obi-Wan said.
Okay then...
[dramatic music]
Having trouble sleeping?
Stricken about that test grade?
Guild-ridden over your latest water flea murder? [/dramatic music]
[peppy music]
We can help! *two people dressed in solid, neon colors sprint onstage*
This can, this can, this can HERE can help you. The contents are nicely irrelevant, but the CAN . whoa. You know the airplane?
Nothing.
A bug. A water flea, in fact.
Consider it crushed. THE CAN is the solution.
[music swells]
Just CALL NOW and order your own, personal, specially personalized, unique CAN. Available for the LOW price of $7.89 in 587 easy installments. The can will be specially shipped to the deserted island near you.
CALL NOW!!
[/End commercial]
We return to the characters two seconds before we left them, in a dramatic repetition of the sheep scene.
As Jim, Axver, and Princess stared, the sheep trotted down from the spaceship, followed by two people who, as was evidenced by their costumes, were obviously Evil Pirates. The blond one wore a penguin ducttaped to her shoulder at a precarious angle. The dark haired girl wore a patch over her eye and was saying, "ARRR!" emphatically to trees, blades of grass, and everything she saw.
The sheep trotted over to the confused threesome.
"BAAA!" it said.
"Sheep," Jim observed.
" !" Princess cried.
"Australian sheep are better," Axver muttered.
"Mike," the blond girl said after the "arr-ing" went on for a considerable amount of time. "You shipoop just say that to everything you see."
"Skip," the girl named Mike said, as if talking to a small child. "The word is CAN'T. And yes, I can. I am a PIRATE. It is what I DO."
"R FACTOR! R FACTOR! R FACTOR!" A horde of overzealous Elms fangirls raced into the scene, with murder blazing in their eyes and Sharpies in hand. They were always prepared. The first one jumped on Mike's shoulders and began hitting her in the head.
"OW! OW! OW! GRR! Get off me!"
"R FACTOR!" the cry began again, as the crowd reveled in the stolen concept. They could not, of course, create a joke for themselves.
"No," Skip argued. "That was NOT R factor. The word 'grr' ENDS in R! You shipoop call it --"
"It's CAN'T, Skip. CAN'T. FANGIRLS! GET OFF OF ME! I have VERY IMPORTANT RESEARCH TO DO!"
They didn't listen, and continued attacking poor Mike with Sharpies, cameras, and posters.
Jim Hawkins was watching this exchange in horror, and realizing that the fangirls bore an uncanny resemblance to Princess. No one should suffer in such a manner.
"LOOK! IT'S THOM!" he shouted suddenly, and pointed into the spaceship the Evil Pirates had vacated. A chorus of piercing screams arose, and the girls stampeded into the ship. Skip and Mike quickly slammed the door shut.
"That," Skip gasped, "was horrible. Don't ever make us go through that again." She glared at the author. "I don't think we should be in this story, Mike...Mike?"
Mike was on her hands and knees on the ground, staring into the grass. ("We have BETTER grass in Australia!" Axver said). Princess sighed with teenybopper disgust. Skip and Jim peered at the ground, trying to understand.
"It's...a new species," Mike breathed. She pointed in awe at a small snail.
"You've never seen a snal before?" Skip said flatly.
"What's a snal?" Jim whispered.
"SMAIL! Er, SNAIL! Don't mock my typing!" Skip glowered, because it was The Thing To Do.
Mike gazed at the snail in wonder. "This is a rare species of snail that I have never seen before. EVER. Why, it's a new species of snail! I have devoted my life to studying the genetics of snails, which are, I might add, extremely fascinating. Why, did you know -"
They stared, waiting.
"I have to pee!" Mike announced cheerfully.
Silence.
"What...about the snails?" Jim asked slowly, confused.
"Oh, they're fascinating." She nodded.
"Are you going to tell us why?" he prompted.
"No," she said simply, content with this. "I have to pee. Do you?"
"Uh, no."
"Skip, do you?"
"Mike, this isn't Lori Wick. We don't have to use the restroom every five minutes, you know." Skip looked proudly at her last sentence, pleased every word had come out exactly right and without typo.
"I know we don't. Except I need to. And want to. Because it's FUN! Like the Hallmark card. Don't you think?"
"Australian cards are better," Axver sniffed haughtily. "So are Australian bathrooms."
" !" Princess said.
"ALL bathrooms are fun," Mike insisted, as if she had discovered the meaning of life and was now able to explain it to everyone. "How could you think otherwise?"
"Because I'm BETTER than you, you stupid American!" he shouted. The penguin on Skip's shoulder toppled over.
"HEY!" she cried indignantly. "You made my pinguin fall down!"
Mike giggled. "Your what?"
"My pinguin! My pet pinguin!"
"Your WHAT?" Jim asked, enthralled.
"THE PINGUIN THAT WAS SITTING ON MY SHOULDER!" she yelled in frustration. "The black and white Arctic bird that was --"
"The PENGUIN?!" Mike and Jim exclaimed at the same time, still staring at her, amazed.
Skip blinked. "That's what I said. The pinguin."
Mike giggled. "That's SO CUTE! The 'ping'uin!" She grinned at Skip endearingly for a moment, and suddenly exclaimed, "Okay, I have to pee!" and ran off.
"Does she always vanish so...suddenly?" Jim wondered, as Mike had been standing beside him partaking in the conversation a split second before.
"Be lucky you've seen her at all," Skip said wisely.