Sentinel Fan Fiction Page || Fanfic -- Humor
Just a little piece of craziness to throw out into the quietness that is CascadeTimes....several members of whom informed me that I had to "post this sucker" on my page. ~grin~
You can find the page I mention in this story at http://stuff.mit.edu/storyfun -- I found it just while randomly surfing around. And, yes, I honestly did choose the words that I put in before I hit the submit button. ~grin~
"Mm-hmm." Jim flipped the pancake adroitly, then checked the one next to it.
Blair rolled to one side on the couch to face the breakfast cook. He shifted a little, then got comfortable and settled his laptop on the couch cushions. "Since you won't let me help--"
"--like either of us need you sneezing your cold germs on the food--"
"--and nothing on the tube is entertaining me," Blair continued, ignoring Jim's interjected comment, "well, aside of the Croc Hunter guy, but I've seen that one--"
"--I thought maybe you could keep me from getting more bored." He gestured towards his laptop and the white phone cord which trailed off to connect to the phone jack in the wall.
Jim flipped the second pancake and glanced suspiciously at the laptop and at his sick roommate. "What've you found now on the net? And why would I want to keep you from getting bored?" He bit down on a grin.
Blair just looked at him, then shook his head. "I guess I could take my laptop and shuffle off to my room and ponder what tests I need to create next for you instead..."
Clearing his throat hastily, Jim waved the spatula in the air. "No, no, no, no need for that. What is it you want me to do?"
"Something sorta like a madlib."
Choking a bit, Jim asked, "A what? Madlib?"
Blair laughed and explained. "It's a story, only a bit crazier. We think of words, then input them into a pre-written story that we haven't looked at. It's fun. Trust me."
"All right, all right. Words. I can do words."
Shifting again, Blair started tapping on the keyboard. "Okay. We'll take turns on the words. I'll go first. Noun -- spatula. Name a verb, Jim."
Blair raised an eyebrow, but typed in the word dutifully.
"Hey, I'm hungry! My stomach's growling. What do you expect?"
"I didn't say anything."
Jim grunted and returned his attention to the pancakes.
"Another ~achoo!~ verb ~sniff-sniff~ -- sneeze. You get an adjective, Jim."
Continuing, the two men filled in the words necessary, then Blair pushed something on the screen with his mouse. A few seconds later, Blair began to read the newly written story.
"The title of this little piece of fun is 'Writing a Thesis'. Appropriate, don't you think?" He grinned, then cleared his throat. "Okay...
"Writing a thesis is a very furry task. You stay up for 307 hours and then you sleep for 4 hours. You hallucinate, you sneeze and then you growl. If your obstreperous thesis advisor is a spatula, then you will have to pounce your thesis, or at least pray to the pink robbers of Thesis. With any luck, after 42 years, you will have a contagious thesis. Either that, or you will be kicked out to live in the crocodile hunter zoo where you will be forced to work as a meter maid."
Several minutes later, Jim managed to stop gasping and laughing long enough to turn off the stove before the last batch of pancakes got any blacker. He wiped his eyes and looked over at the couch to see Blair still draped over the cushions, one hand beating on a pillow as he cracked up between intermittent coughing.
"You okay, Chief?"
Blair nodded and finally calmed down. However, then he met Jim's eyes and burst out in laughter again.
Residual chuckles shaking his chest, Jim shook his head and stared mournfully at the burnt remnants of the pancakes. "Well, now you know you'll always have that meter maid job to fall back on. Just stay away from the crocs."
- The End -