note and story written September 9, 2005
Oh. My. GOD.
…
I'M NOT DEAD YET!
Dudes and dudettes, I swear I didn't forget about you. I had a really hectic summer. I was really busy in June, my grandfather passed away in July, and I really, quite frankly, was too upset to write. But I'm back! I hope you haven't forgotten me, and I hope you can forgive me for my tardiness of storiness. Shyea.
So. This is the sequel to "The Non-Perfect Elf and the Hole-Hating Hobbit." I might just have to turn this into a mini-series or something, because I absolutely love writing about myself and criticizing my own stupidity. And yes, in this story, the point of view (or person of voice, I never was quite sure what "POV" stood for) has changed to third person. I find it easier to write that way, because you can get the thoughts of more than one character. Y'know how it is. :P
And don't worry: I'll be updating "Return of the Return of the Celery Sticks" (ROTROT) soonish… i.e. as soon as I get an idea for a story line. But until then, please bear with me, and the fact that I'm now a junior in high school and that means that life is poo. And by poo I mean really, really stressful and busy and stuff. Anyway, enough of my bitching. On with el storio!
Laura lifted herself up off the ground with a heave and a generous cloud of dust. "Damn you, Matt," she muttered to herself. Matt, the self-proclaimed "expert" on stories and their alternate realities, was responsible for getting her here, and for that she was grateful. But that was about the only thing she had Matt to thank for. When she said she wanted to appear in the Caribbean in an "interesting manner", poofing to the middle of a crowded, busy street, coming within inches of being run over by a large draft horse, and then lunging out of harm's way just in the nick of time was NOT what she had had in mind.
So there she was: Laura, previously known as Lothuviel, renowned (kind of) and much-traveled (ish) Mary Sue. After her adventures in Middle Earth concerning a certain elf whose pants she had very badly wanted to get in but never did, she had gone home to her own reality and published, on a website, an account of what had happened to her. Of course, everyone who read it thought that it was fiction and applauded her broad imagination (or criticized it and accused her of smoking too much weed), but she knew better than to think it was just a story. Oh yes she did.
Laura put her hands on her hips and looked around her. Everywhere that she looked were noisy groups of people either laughing, fighting, or killing each other. Or, in some cases, having sex, which she decided she could have gone all her life without seeing. Lovely, she thought sarcastically, trying to ignore the slight nauseated feeling she had.
Then, without warning, she let out a tremendous squeal as she realized where she surely must be. YEEK! Tortuga
All the people within earshot stopped to look at her questioningly.
"Sorry!" she called to no one in particular and everyone in general, "I've only just figured out where I am." Then she gave them all a ludicrous, beaming smile. A few of the more inebriated people in the vicinity nodded understandingly, silently letting her know that they've been there and done that. Everyone else just went back to their drinking, muttering about the rude interruption.
Yes, she was in Tortuga. For Laura had (really, really stupidly) decided to try and get that oh-so lovely blacksmith, Will Turner, into her grasp within about a week, while simultaneously driving his skank, Elizabeth, away and trying to get her killed. Yes, it would be quite a task, but it was worth a shot. Not to mention the new threat of what Matt called "plot holes."
"What the heck is a plot hole?" Laura hissed into the phone. She was still grounded, and her ass was grass if her mom caught her up at 11 at night talking with a stranger on her cell.
"We're really not sure. But all of a sudden, people have been complaining of weird and random events taking place in their respective realities while they're there."
"Like what?" she whispered nervously. "Like, they grow tentacles and start having a strange craving for human flesh?"
"Uh, no, not exactly. They say that the characters get a zombie-like glaze over their eyes, and they get all wacky, like they're on crack. Every male character makes an advance at the girl."
"Doesn't sound too bad."
"It is. Sometimes it happens without notice. The plot holes come in all forms. Sometimes they're foreshadowed by weather, like big storms and such. Other times-"
"LAURA, ARE YOU ON THE PHONE?" Laura squealed and slammed her phone shut, threw it across the room, and dove under the covers.
insert foreboding music right here
So Laura set off merrily down the main street of Tortuga, desperately searching for a friendly face. Apparently, though, such things were nonexistent in this town. Each time she asked about the location of a pub, she was laughed at, ignored, or pointed to every building on the block.
Finally, after searching energetically for a grand total of five minutes, Laura gave up all hope of ever finding her beloved blacksmith in a dangerous, rum-filled town such as Tortuga. Although, it had given her a chance to admire herself in all the windows she walked by. No longer was she an average American teenage girl. Her blonde hair was now a deep brown and went past her shoulders, down to the middle of her back. Her skin was very tan, and she had an attractive Hispanic face. She fancied herself a bit like Catherine Zeta-Jones, only younger, less girly, and not covered in makeup.
But what was the use of one being a total hottie if one couldn't have another hottie to gawk at and compliment one on one's prettiness? She sulked into a nearby pub and plopped into the first empty seat she saw. When a barmaid approached, she ordered a glass of milk. The barmaid, after she had stopped laughing, informed our heroine that they didn't serve milk at the Slimy Pig, or whatever the place was called. Laura dismissed her with a steely glare and a wave of her hand. Then she plunked her head onto the table and began to wallow in self-pity, a thing she was quite skilled at.
"Oy, 'scuse me miss," said a gravelly voice. She picked her head off the table and looked up at what appeared to be a giant beard but, on further inspection, turned out to be a very hairy man.
"What?"
"'ow many drinks ye had?" he asked with a smile. She gave him a level stare.
"Not nearly enough to make me even consider sleeping with you, that's for sure," she said smoothly. There was scattered laughter from the Manbeard's friends.
"Well, how 'bout I buy you a round then?' he said, giving her a wide, half-toothed grin. Cheers rose up from his friends. Apparently the whole pub was watching and waiting for the inevitable fistfight to unfold.
"I do my best to avoid rodents." And with that she stood up and walked away. She didn't get too far, though, since the man grabbed her hand.
"Hey now, no need to be rude," he said as he caressed the back of her hand with his greasy thumb.
"I beg to differ," Laura said simply, snatching her wrist away from him and out of his reach. "Leave me alone, you scoundrel. I'm not a common wench, and therefore I'm not interested. I already have a man, anyway."
"Aye, do ye? Well, where is he then, lassie?"
Laura glanced nervously all around her. Then, the good Lawd in Heaven smiled down upon our innocent protagonist, and she saw HIM…
Yes, but WHO did she see? Gasp. Betcha can't guess…
note written November 8, 2005
Okay so… yea, I was a little slow on the uploading front. Sorry about that. Today I was sitting in class being a diligent student- no, wait, I wasn't. I was sitting in class half-asleep while my teacher rambled on about how to find the quotient of a square root with multiple variables. Anyway, I suddenly remembered my dear old FFs, and I was like, "Oh shit!" So here it is… terribly sorry. But as you read in the first little note, I've been busy/sad/stressed, etc., and I have no idea when the next update will be. Hopefully kind of soon. Not to mention that I have a boyfriend now. So that keeps me extra busy. (smirks) Love ya guys!
!Laura!