The long-awaited next chapter of the Fartemit Owl Series. I'mbecoming more and more hyper as I write this. Enjoy!
Chapter 4. Caught Asleep Again (The Chapter with The Deliberately Unusually Long Paragraph and A Lot of Private Comments by The Author)
Chief Inspector Augustus Smoot peered into the cubicle. Yes, there she was, asleep with her feet up on the desk. Her nametag read:
Inspector Brolly Tall (Number 43)
The Elementary Lavatory Federation (ELF)
Service with A Pong!
Inspector Brolly Tall was the five hundred and sixty-eighth female inspector of the ELF. Which wasn't really that impressive, really. I mean, Brolly wasn't really special in anyway at all, and I only put her in the story because there's supposed to be a counterpart for Holly Short. Even then… oh, forget it.
Smoot felt his rage rise up again. So he decided to look good this time when he went in. He loosened his tie, loosened his collar, rolled up his sleeves, and put on red face powder. He heard briefly as he burst in, "There he goes again. Pretending to burst his bubble."
"BROLLY TALL! WHAT ON EARTH'S NAME ARE YOU DOING?" screamed Smoot. Brolly barely stirred. Grudgingly, Smoot took out his AmpliMaster 5000TM, and switched it on. He flicked the volume to Maximum Scream Power®. With this baby, he could shout across the whole of the Grand Canyon, and anybody anywhere in the Canyon would hear it and burst their eardrums. It would also cause a dozen or so avalanches at the same time. Smoot had just started realizing that half of his staff were already deaf.
Smoot took a deep breath, shoved the machine right up to Brolly's ear, and screamed, "GET UP, YOU LOUSY GIT!!" Everybody in the office fell to the floor clutching his or her ears. Brolly jumped in her chair, and fell on her butt on the floor. And passed out.
A few hours later, Brolly came to, and instantly wished she hadn't. The blare of the amplifier was still in her ears.
"Oooooeeeeerrrraaaahhhh" she groaned very loudly. She opened her eyes, and saw Smoot staring at her with a contact lenses-aided red glare. Here we go again, thought Brolly. "INSPECTOR TALL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE CONFERENCE ROOM FOUR HOURS AGO!" screamed Smoot into her ears. Brolly clutched her ears in pain again. As Brolly looked around, she realized she had been carried into the Conference Room. Presently, she was being stared at angrily by around a two dozen eyes belonging to important, arrogant, retarded dim-bluts seated around a big table shaped in the ELF logo (it's just plain 'ELF' actually). This caused a very pressing issue when people absent-mindedly plunked their coffee mugs on mid-air, resulting in gravity doing its job and causing a stain on the carpet and the trousers or other garment that the previous owner wore. So the High Council had decided that the carpet would be brown from now on. That was how much they cared about the organization. Sad, isn't it. The important, arrogant, retarded dim-bluts were a collection of representatives, secretaries, high-ranking members, waitresses, ghosts, zombies, mystical creatures (such as centaurs, unicorns, and dragons), Jedi Master Yoda, the original Artemis Fowl, the original Captain Holly Short, the original Commander Julius Root, the original Mulch Diggums, the original Foaly the centaur, the original Butler, the original Juliet Butler, the original Opal Koboi, and a mannequin dressed in a tasteless suit (who has nothing to do with the original Artemis Fowl Series written by Eoin Colfer). There was also a three-headed genius called 'Triple-Cranium Whiz-Kid' or 'TCWK' or 'Tesedoboyokay' for short. Actually, this isn't very short at all (I mean, can you imagine eating dinner with the guy, and asking him, "Can you pass the salt, Tesedoboyokay?" That would be just plain weird, right?). Everybody preferred to keep their eyes away from him, because (a) all three of his heads were unbelievably and incredibly ugly, (b) he sort of smelt bad and (c) everybody knew there was something wrong with him, but they couldn't work it out, because they were important, arrogant, retarded dim-bluts. Oh my God, do you know how many times I mentioned "important, arrogant, retarded dim-bluts"? Thank the Lord for 'Copy' and 'Paste'. What, you thought I typed everything? Are you mad? Anyway, back to the story. Brolly sat up from the floor, and tried to remember why she was here. Then she remembered. Today was the day they decided whether to keep her, or kick her useless butt out of the building and onto the street. For the fifth time. You see, she had been kicked out four times, but she had changed her name and face, namely her identity, to get back in again over and over again. She had been Frolly Gall, Polly Hall, Rolly Jall, Wolly Ball, and now she was Brolly Tall. Her real name was (deep breath) Grolly-Frolly-Polly-Rolly-Wolly-Brolly (pause and another deep breath) Gall-Hall-Jall-Ball-Tall-Y'all (how long does it take her to sign her full name, I wonder. Snigger). All she had to do was cut a bit of her first name, stick it to a bit of her last name, and bingo! You've got a different identity. She had also been a gorgeous blonde, a butt-ugly brunette, a freckled redhead, a monk-like bald, and now she was a slightly pretty black-hair. She never changed her face, or her height, but nobody seemed to notice. If she was kicked out this time, she had decided to be Grolly Y'all, with spiky green hair. That would be decided if they kicked her out again. Which was 99.99 possible. Ah well, as long as I'm not unemployed, thought…er…let's call her Brolly. She got off the carpet and sat down. She didn't hear the scream of agony as she sat down on a miniscule humanoid elf. She wouldn't have minded anyway. Smoot, who had moved to the top of the table (on a motorcycle), stared at Brolly with his binoculars.
"Inspector Brolly Tall, Number 43, you have broken every rule we have been bothered to make, which is about three. We therefore sentence you to dangerous, exciting, life-threatening, and potentially world-saving missions from now on. Until you're fired, which isn't very close to today, don't worry. Do you have anything to say before we all go away and mind our own business?" asked Smoot.
"Uuum, yeah sure," said Brolly tentatively. "How many missions am I going to get every year?"
"Around four," answered Smoot briskly. "Anymore questions? No? Then get lost everybody. Free champagne in the Dining Hall!" said Smoot before Brolly could say anything else. He clicked a button, and everybody except Smoot and Brolly disintegrated into a purple cloud of smoke. He, like Brolly, hated meetings in the Conference Room, especially if he wasn't at the head of the table.
Nice, eh? 1,126 words all in one chapter. R&R!