Wow, we're moving fast! Like...a snail or something!!
Disclaimer: We do not own tuna fish.
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Ickyboo awoke to find Pastor Richards, Dr. Mario Von Schnickickick, Stinky the Mailman, and Faltus Van Castle looking at him.
"Hmmmm," sighed Dr. Mario. "This will be a very difficult case."
"What is it?! What's wrong?!" wailed Ickyboo.
[No, not whaled. We're not talking about going out on a boat, hunting down whales, and then boiling them down. We're talking about wailing, as in anguish. You twit.]
"See for yourself," advised Stinky, holding up a mirror.
Ickyboo gazed into his reflection.
"AAAHHH! There's an imprint of a fish on my face!" screeched Ickyboo.
"No, you evildoer!" exclaimed Pastor Richards. "You've had that for years! Didn't you read the first chapter?! Now, shut up and donate me some money!"
"It's the owl," moaned Faltus, indicating the very large and very dead bird, which had managed to tangle itself irreversibly into Ickyboo's hair.
Katrino burst in.
"Ickyboo, Ickyboo, I've heard about your problem!" she screamed, cramming twenty sugar cubes into her mouth.
Quickly, she grabbed the owl and yanked it off of Ickyboo's head, pulling out large clumps of his hair. Ickyboo screamed indifferently, and Katrino shoved her new prize into her bra.
"Drink this, drink this!" she suggested. "It will soothe your paaaaain!"
She crammed a chunky mixture of what appeared to be cough syrup and peanut butter down his throat.
"No, Katrino!" cried Faltus. "You have done a bad thing!"
Ickyboo swooned.
######################################################################
Ickyboo dreamt.
In his dream, he saw his mother break free from the grip of the FBI agents. She dashed to the fish bin.
[As any normal person knows, a fish bin is where normal families store large quantities of dead fish. You are normal enough to know that, and to have a fish bin of your own, aren't you?]
Fish sailed through the air as Ickyboo's mother began to use them as projectile weapons. The FBI agents staggered, screamed, and grunted at the sheer fishiness. One of them, however, busted out a flamethrower, which he promptly used on Ickyboo's mother.
The final fish she had managed to throw glided gracefully through the flames. With a resounding slap, it smashed into Ickyboo's left cheek, still red-hot and melting. With a cry of anguish, he staggered backwards.
[Mini time-lapse within a flashback: #######################################]
"Samantha Crow, you stand accused of kidnapping over forty babies over the past seven years, killing them, and cooking them in a stew, which you fed to your family," pronounced the judge to the charred skeleton that had been propped up against the wall. "How do you plead?"
The skeleton made no response, except for its left hand falling off and disintegrating into dust as it hit the floor.
"Very well. Samantha Crow, I pronounce you guilty, and sentence you to death by head smashing."
A mysterious sign had appeared on the skeleton, saying, "You're gunna need a bigger gun!"
The bailiff, ignoring the sign, walked up and punched the skeleton in the head. The skull, being a charred and therefore inferior skull, a skull deprived of moisture, a skull of compromised structure, and being of only semi-appealing skullness, exploded in a cloud of dust.
Ickyboo watched on from the audience portion of the courtroom. This was the last time he saw his mother. Afterward, he was put in a foster home, where he was locked in a closet by night, and molested by day. Thus, he became Ickyboo Crow: Extreme Wuss.
"And let this be a lesson to others of the Baby-Yum cult. Your day will come," proclaimed the judge.
#####################################################################
Ickyboo woke up crying.
Katrino was sitting on the end of the bed and twitching like a chipmunk. Being high on only sugar, she was much more coherent than usual.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Ickyboo sighed. "I was dreaming about my mother. She was an innocent child of nature, killed by a man behind a mask of righteousness."
"That sucks," offered Katrino insensitively.
"Hey...why are you even in my room?" asked Ickyboo.
"The flowerpot commanded, and the plow backed him up," she replied darkly.
"What kind of sugar is that?" inquired Ickyboo.
"OOO, CLOUDS!" Katrino commented, as she leapt through the open window and fell three floors to the ground.
Ickyboo sighed. Just then, Nazbutt walked in, carrying a letter.
"Your superiors in New York have written to you," muttered Nazbutt. "I think you had better read this."
Ickyboo quickly took the letter, and slapped Nazbutt for reading his mail. Upon reading it, he learned that it said this:
Ickyboo Crow,
What the hell is happening up there?! Why haven't you written to us?! You're supposed to give us reports, you nitwit!
Sincerely,
Sergeant Krinkydink
P.S.: If you are done with your case, please return to New York immediately, as we are experiencing an outbreak of drownings, and need all the help we can get in herding citizens away from the river, and in dragging them out when we fail.
"Oh, and this came too," said Nazbutt, handing Ickyboo another letter. The return address read "Master Crazy Nutcase, 3820 Edmund Street, New York, NY".
Ickyboo opened the letter, and read it, and it said:
So, Constable Crow, our great clash of wits continues. So far, I have killed three hundred more of those you are sworn to protect, just like I did the one you dredged up two weeks ago. Can you stop me? Your time is winding down. Tick tock, tick tock!
-Master Crazy Nutcase
"What's that about?" inquired Nazbutt.
"I believe it was from a man attempting to sell me a clock," said Ickyboo.
"Oh," said Nazbutt, and Ickyboo threw this second letter into the fire.
"But, all the same," murmured Ickyboo. "I had better respond to both my letters."
Ickyboo's letter to his superiors read like so:
Dear Sirs;
The murders up here are being committed by the zombie head of a long- deceased serial murder-type lumberjack. All I need to do is to find the person who is using the rest of his remains to control him, and then I can stop the killings and return to New York.
Sincerely,
Constable Ickyboo Crow
His second letter read:
Dear salesman of 3820 Edmund Street;
I am not interested in purchasing any of your timepieces. I hope that in the future, you will please refrain from pestering me with your junk mail.
Sincerely,
Constable Ickyboo Crow
"We must mail these letters immediately!" shouted Ickyboo.
"Oh, yes," jeered Nazbutt. "If we don't, they might spoil!"
He was promptly slapped.
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Hey, sorry about the long time between updates, which was, as always, a simple matter of laziness on our part. We're hoping to finish this soon, and move on to our next story, which will be completely written before it goes up in order to avoid this.
Oh, and by the way, we are looking for a beta reader or two to read this garbage before it goes up. If you are interested, just say so in your review, and leave your email address. However, if any beta reader of ours is ever caught putting our work up as theirs, they will be promptly slapped, and then haunted by bad reviews.
Disclaimer: We do not own tuna fish.
##################################################################### #####################################################################
Ickyboo awoke to find Pastor Richards, Dr. Mario Von Schnickickick, Stinky the Mailman, and Faltus Van Castle looking at him.
"Hmmmm," sighed Dr. Mario. "This will be a very difficult case."
"What is it?! What's wrong?!" wailed Ickyboo.
[No, not whaled. We're not talking about going out on a boat, hunting down whales, and then boiling them down. We're talking about wailing, as in anguish. You twit.]
"See for yourself," advised Stinky, holding up a mirror.
Ickyboo gazed into his reflection.
"AAAHHH! There's an imprint of a fish on my face!" screeched Ickyboo.
"No, you evildoer!" exclaimed Pastor Richards. "You've had that for years! Didn't you read the first chapter?! Now, shut up and donate me some money!"
"It's the owl," moaned Faltus, indicating the very large and very dead bird, which had managed to tangle itself irreversibly into Ickyboo's hair.
Katrino burst in.
"Ickyboo, Ickyboo, I've heard about your problem!" she screamed, cramming twenty sugar cubes into her mouth.
Quickly, she grabbed the owl and yanked it off of Ickyboo's head, pulling out large clumps of his hair. Ickyboo screamed indifferently, and Katrino shoved her new prize into her bra.
"Drink this, drink this!" she suggested. "It will soothe your paaaaain!"
She crammed a chunky mixture of what appeared to be cough syrup and peanut butter down his throat.
"No, Katrino!" cried Faltus. "You have done a bad thing!"
Ickyboo swooned.
######################################################################
Ickyboo dreamt.
In his dream, he saw his mother break free from the grip of the FBI agents. She dashed to the fish bin.
[As any normal person knows, a fish bin is where normal families store large quantities of dead fish. You are normal enough to know that, and to have a fish bin of your own, aren't you?]
Fish sailed through the air as Ickyboo's mother began to use them as projectile weapons. The FBI agents staggered, screamed, and grunted at the sheer fishiness. One of them, however, busted out a flamethrower, which he promptly used on Ickyboo's mother.
The final fish she had managed to throw glided gracefully through the flames. With a resounding slap, it smashed into Ickyboo's left cheek, still red-hot and melting. With a cry of anguish, he staggered backwards.
[Mini time-lapse within a flashback: #######################################]
"Samantha Crow, you stand accused of kidnapping over forty babies over the past seven years, killing them, and cooking them in a stew, which you fed to your family," pronounced the judge to the charred skeleton that had been propped up against the wall. "How do you plead?"
The skeleton made no response, except for its left hand falling off and disintegrating into dust as it hit the floor.
"Very well. Samantha Crow, I pronounce you guilty, and sentence you to death by head smashing."
A mysterious sign had appeared on the skeleton, saying, "You're gunna need a bigger gun!"
The bailiff, ignoring the sign, walked up and punched the skeleton in the head. The skull, being a charred and therefore inferior skull, a skull deprived of moisture, a skull of compromised structure, and being of only semi-appealing skullness, exploded in a cloud of dust.
Ickyboo watched on from the audience portion of the courtroom. This was the last time he saw his mother. Afterward, he was put in a foster home, where he was locked in a closet by night, and molested by day. Thus, he became Ickyboo Crow: Extreme Wuss.
"And let this be a lesson to others of the Baby-Yum cult. Your day will come," proclaimed the judge.
#####################################################################
Ickyboo woke up crying.
Katrino was sitting on the end of the bed and twitching like a chipmunk. Being high on only sugar, she was much more coherent than usual.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Ickyboo sighed. "I was dreaming about my mother. She was an innocent child of nature, killed by a man behind a mask of righteousness."
"That sucks," offered Katrino insensitively.
"Hey...why are you even in my room?" asked Ickyboo.
"The flowerpot commanded, and the plow backed him up," she replied darkly.
"What kind of sugar is that?" inquired Ickyboo.
"OOO, CLOUDS!" Katrino commented, as she leapt through the open window and fell three floors to the ground.
Ickyboo sighed. Just then, Nazbutt walked in, carrying a letter.
"Your superiors in New York have written to you," muttered Nazbutt. "I think you had better read this."
Ickyboo quickly took the letter, and slapped Nazbutt for reading his mail. Upon reading it, he learned that it said this:
Ickyboo Crow,
What the hell is happening up there?! Why haven't you written to us?! You're supposed to give us reports, you nitwit!
Sincerely,
Sergeant Krinkydink
P.S.: If you are done with your case, please return to New York immediately, as we are experiencing an outbreak of drownings, and need all the help we can get in herding citizens away from the river, and in dragging them out when we fail.
"Oh, and this came too," said Nazbutt, handing Ickyboo another letter. The return address read "Master Crazy Nutcase, 3820 Edmund Street, New York, NY".
Ickyboo opened the letter, and read it, and it said:
So, Constable Crow, our great clash of wits continues. So far, I have killed three hundred more of those you are sworn to protect, just like I did the one you dredged up two weeks ago. Can you stop me? Your time is winding down. Tick tock, tick tock!
-Master Crazy Nutcase
"What's that about?" inquired Nazbutt.
"I believe it was from a man attempting to sell me a clock," said Ickyboo.
"Oh," said Nazbutt, and Ickyboo threw this second letter into the fire.
"But, all the same," murmured Ickyboo. "I had better respond to both my letters."
Ickyboo's letter to his superiors read like so:
Dear Sirs;
The murders up here are being committed by the zombie head of a long- deceased serial murder-type lumberjack. All I need to do is to find the person who is using the rest of his remains to control him, and then I can stop the killings and return to New York.
Sincerely,
Constable Ickyboo Crow
His second letter read:
Dear salesman of 3820 Edmund Street;
I am not interested in purchasing any of your timepieces. I hope that in the future, you will please refrain from pestering me with your junk mail.
Sincerely,
Constable Ickyboo Crow
"We must mail these letters immediately!" shouted Ickyboo.
"Oh, yes," jeered Nazbutt. "If we don't, they might spoil!"
He was promptly slapped.
##################################################################### #####################################################################
Hey, sorry about the long time between updates, which was, as always, a simple matter of laziness on our part. We're hoping to finish this soon, and move on to our next story, which will be completely written before it goes up in order to avoid this.
Oh, and by the way, we are looking for a beta reader or two to read this garbage before it goes up. If you are interested, just say so in your review, and leave your email address. However, if any beta reader of ours is ever caught putting our work up as theirs, they will be promptly slapped, and then haunted by bad reviews.