GiantGreenBean
Science fiction fantasy
- Joined
- Jan 4, 2007
- Messages
- 26
Prophet Snudd, the prominent and legendary renowned prophet of the Sploot Kingdom, was famous for having the largest family in the entire land, almost twice as
large as the entire Trimbulene Treadmills Sludge-Ball Team, which was composed
of 987 trillion players. Every December 2nd, the entire Snudd family would get together, chat, eat, and discuss everything under the sun, from effigy architecture, kinetic energy, the middle ages, magnesium, or even the length of their beards. Although Snudd was clearly the most popular and highly esteemed scholar of the tribe, he was actually rather shy and reserved when he attended the annual December 2nd reunions, partly because of his humility. He was made fun of for this. So when the fateful day of thereunion fell upon him once again, Prophet Snudd could probably envisage what his relatives would suppose of him. A world famous individual, however a closed box of yet to be opened proportions. Snudd had also trimmed his beard as of late, and his cat Mooshy was suffering from mooshelashion ear mites, so he couldn’t bring her, which might even upset her. Snudd, as embarresed as he was, simply had to attend the reunion, out of contractual obligation to his hilarious heritage. The next day, Snudd prepared himself by bathing his 987 billion foot long beard in the Magical River of Consistent Inconsistency. He arrived at the meeting two minutes late, which took place inside a giant fully furnishable turnip. There was a plethora of pastries, cupboards stocked full of cookies, enchanted fruit punch, and barrel fulls of delicious root beer. It was hard to walk one inch without tripping over someone’s
beard, all of them were quite long, for they were a symbol of wisdom
in the Sploot Kingdom. Snudd was shocked to see that his relatives had ALL trimmed their beards, each one wore the same colored cloak, and there was no way to tell any of them apart, because they always looked quite similar, the only means of usually deducing their differences was their beard length, but even this was not
possible. This made Prophet Snudd feel much better, and less shy as a matter of fact. If he said something stupid, noeone would even know who said it. If he was a thief, he could even steal all the cookies, and there was sure to be a false arrest. So Snudd sat down on a toadstool chair, and began sipping his root beer as he watched the Amazing Ogre Bros. shake their
booties to some ethnic fiesta music. Then his great uncle Joseph Joobel Woobel seated himself on the other side of the table.
“So..which relative are you?” inquired Joseph, choking back tears of laughter. Prophet Snudd didn’t want to tell the truth. He had made a fool of himself at the last reunion
by accidentally popping a 899 thousand gallon water balloon filled with root beer.
“Err..I’m…Jacob JingleSmither. Yes, that be the one!” said Snudd, his nerves
filled to the brim with indescribably indescribable nervousness.
“AHH, Jabob JingleSmither. I’d know that name anywhere. The mustachioed
menace, yes yes yes. You just opened a safe in my memory bank. You’re the one that said scientific theories were
better than prophesized ones, weren’t ye? You’re the outcast, aren’t ye?” questioned
Joseph.
“Yeah, that’s me Joseph. We scientist type…folkies, err, like to test out our
theories beforehand, with experiments, before we get all carried away with
crazy prophecies and wild predictions! We validate our theories!” said Snudd, who was pretending to be someone else. Joseph Jooble Wooble
was then struck with a lightening bolt of anger that came to him like a chicken on
a sunny midnight.
“What’s so great about statistical probabilities and orbit inclinations? Most of
them science theories get proven false anyway, you looney spatooni! Those scientists never figure anything out! You’re
really startin to make me feel glooshy and smooshy!” said Joseph, folding his arms with resentment.
“Well, what about the basic three laws of motion? They’re all true. Scientists never
solve anything? Moofs were once proven to be mediated by photons, err..I do
believe. What about..err…the unified field theory?” said Prophet Snudd in a foolish manner, who in reality didn’t even know what any of those things were, but was
hoping to make a better impression on his relatives by being someone else.
“HA! Was it ever written on ANY Splootonian stone slab that all the alleged fundamental forces of the universe would be brought together in some kind of grand framework?? Was that ever written in any books? No no no no laddie buck. I kid you not. I’d bet my 498 billion year old BEARD ON IT! You just can’t get over the fact
that Prophet Snudd is more famous than you are! Why don’t yew just go over
to a Blob convention with all your blob friends! The Blobs are the scienteests, we’re
the propheeets! Are you even really related to me?” questioned Joseph who was now quite argumentative. Prophet Snudd was now starting to realize how much better it would
have been if he hadn’t tried to sound different than his normal self. And seconds later,
the real Jacob JingleSmither sat down at the table. This made Snudd so nervous his
beard rattled with fear.
“Why is your beard shaking?” asked the real Jacob JingleSmither. Prophet Snudd
shrugged, but then he quietly tip-toed up to Jacob.
“Can I err..umm..speaketh with you in private?” he asked politely.
“Of course old geezerly friend!!! I’d be oblidged to! Jacob JingleSmither,
at your service!”. So then the two mumbling bumbling hilarious highly predictable
bearded folk glooshed on over to a deserted barren corner of the room.
“What exactly is this err…errr…..er……mumble…err…all about
any by the ways?” asked Jacob. Snudd was quick to respond and showed
no hesitance, except for his beard, which kept rattling with fear.
“Well sir, see..err…Mumble Mumble Mumble!” said Prophet Snudd, speaking in
Splootonian Mumble Grumble code.
“GOODNESS! You truly mean to mumble and jumble that you were pretending
to be me because you didn’t want to be made fun of for being shy??? Now what
are we going to do?” asked Jacob JingleSmither.
“I’d wage dollars to donuts that the best ways of assesing this
dire situation would be to remain calm, serious and focused. Let’s stop and think
old pinto bean. What if YOU pretended to be ME?” suggested Snudd.
“What good would that do?” asked Jacob.
“That way..err..well, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Let’s scratch our
beards and contimplate for a little bit. You know, sort of like, meditation!” said
Snudd. So the two foolish old geezers scratched their ridiculously elongated chin hairs
and contimplated a solution for seven hours straight. The meeting was over by the time
they were done.
“Well, I think I’ve got it!” said Jacob.
“You do?” asked Snudd.
“No! Let me contimplate some more!” said Jacob scratching his beard. After seven more hours of redundant contimplating and beard scratching, Jacob finally did come up with a solution.
“You are a high authority figure in the Sploot Kingdom. You’re practically
one of them celibrettie folk. You can host another reunion and prove that you’re
actually Prophet Snudd, and tell them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth!” said Jacob. So Snudd did exactly that. He explained everything, that he
had pretended to be his outgoing scientific cousin in order to not be made fun of
for being shy. Another meeting was held, all was good and the bearded
ones lived happily ever after, having learned that often, it’s best to be ignored
rather than disliked!
---- Zoobly the Blue Dragon, from Plemurian Forest.
large as the entire Trimbulene Treadmills Sludge-Ball Team, which was composed
of 987 trillion players. Every December 2nd, the entire Snudd family would get together, chat, eat, and discuss everything under the sun, from effigy architecture, kinetic energy, the middle ages, magnesium, or even the length of their beards. Although Snudd was clearly the most popular and highly esteemed scholar of the tribe, he was actually rather shy and reserved when he attended the annual December 2nd reunions, partly because of his humility. He was made fun of for this. So when the fateful day of thereunion fell upon him once again, Prophet Snudd could probably envisage what his relatives would suppose of him. A world famous individual, however a closed box of yet to be opened proportions. Snudd had also trimmed his beard as of late, and his cat Mooshy was suffering from mooshelashion ear mites, so he couldn’t bring her, which might even upset her. Snudd, as embarresed as he was, simply had to attend the reunion, out of contractual obligation to his hilarious heritage. The next day, Snudd prepared himself by bathing his 987 billion foot long beard in the Magical River of Consistent Inconsistency. He arrived at the meeting two minutes late, which took place inside a giant fully furnishable turnip. There was a plethora of pastries, cupboards stocked full of cookies, enchanted fruit punch, and barrel fulls of delicious root beer. It was hard to walk one inch without tripping over someone’s
beard, all of them were quite long, for they were a symbol of wisdom
in the Sploot Kingdom. Snudd was shocked to see that his relatives had ALL trimmed their beards, each one wore the same colored cloak, and there was no way to tell any of them apart, because they always looked quite similar, the only means of usually deducing their differences was their beard length, but even this was not
possible. This made Prophet Snudd feel much better, and less shy as a matter of fact. If he said something stupid, noeone would even know who said it. If he was a thief, he could even steal all the cookies, and there was sure to be a false arrest. So Snudd sat down on a toadstool chair, and began sipping his root beer as he watched the Amazing Ogre Bros. shake their
booties to some ethnic fiesta music. Then his great uncle Joseph Joobel Woobel seated himself on the other side of the table.
“So..which relative are you?” inquired Joseph, choking back tears of laughter. Prophet Snudd didn’t want to tell the truth. He had made a fool of himself at the last reunion
by accidentally popping a 899 thousand gallon water balloon filled with root beer.
“Err..I’m…Jacob JingleSmither. Yes, that be the one!” said Snudd, his nerves
filled to the brim with indescribably indescribable nervousness.
“AHH, Jabob JingleSmither. I’d know that name anywhere. The mustachioed
menace, yes yes yes. You just opened a safe in my memory bank. You’re the one that said scientific theories were
better than prophesized ones, weren’t ye? You’re the outcast, aren’t ye?” questioned
Joseph.
“Yeah, that’s me Joseph. We scientist type…folkies, err, like to test out our
theories beforehand, with experiments, before we get all carried away with
crazy prophecies and wild predictions! We validate our theories!” said Snudd, who was pretending to be someone else. Joseph Jooble Wooble
was then struck with a lightening bolt of anger that came to him like a chicken on
a sunny midnight.
“What’s so great about statistical probabilities and orbit inclinations? Most of
them science theories get proven false anyway, you looney spatooni! Those scientists never figure anything out! You’re
really startin to make me feel glooshy and smooshy!” said Joseph, folding his arms with resentment.
“Well, what about the basic three laws of motion? They’re all true. Scientists never
solve anything? Moofs were once proven to be mediated by photons, err..I do
believe. What about..err…the unified field theory?” said Prophet Snudd in a foolish manner, who in reality didn’t even know what any of those things were, but was
hoping to make a better impression on his relatives by being someone else.
“HA! Was it ever written on ANY Splootonian stone slab that all the alleged fundamental forces of the universe would be brought together in some kind of grand framework?? Was that ever written in any books? No no no no laddie buck. I kid you not. I’d bet my 498 billion year old BEARD ON IT! You just can’t get over the fact
that Prophet Snudd is more famous than you are! Why don’t yew just go over
to a Blob convention with all your blob friends! The Blobs are the scienteests, we’re
the propheeets! Are you even really related to me?” questioned Joseph who was now quite argumentative. Prophet Snudd was now starting to realize how much better it would
have been if he hadn’t tried to sound different than his normal self. And seconds later,
the real Jacob JingleSmither sat down at the table. This made Snudd so nervous his
beard rattled with fear.
“Why is your beard shaking?” asked the real Jacob JingleSmither. Prophet Snudd
shrugged, but then he quietly tip-toed up to Jacob.
“Can I err..umm..speaketh with you in private?” he asked politely.
“Of course old geezerly friend!!! I’d be oblidged to! Jacob JingleSmither,
at your service!”. So then the two mumbling bumbling hilarious highly predictable
bearded folk glooshed on over to a deserted barren corner of the room.
“What exactly is this err…errr…..er……mumble…err…all about
any by the ways?” asked Jacob. Snudd was quick to respond and showed
no hesitance, except for his beard, which kept rattling with fear.
“Well sir, see..err…Mumble Mumble Mumble!” said Prophet Snudd, speaking in
Splootonian Mumble Grumble code.
“GOODNESS! You truly mean to mumble and jumble that you were pretending
to be me because you didn’t want to be made fun of for being shy??? Now what
are we going to do?” asked Jacob JingleSmither.
“I’d wage dollars to donuts that the best ways of assesing this
dire situation would be to remain calm, serious and focused. Let’s stop and think
old pinto bean. What if YOU pretended to be ME?” suggested Snudd.
“What good would that do?” asked Jacob.
“That way..err..well, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Let’s scratch our
beards and contimplate for a little bit. You know, sort of like, meditation!” said
Snudd. So the two foolish old geezers scratched their ridiculously elongated chin hairs
and contimplated a solution for seven hours straight. The meeting was over by the time
they were done.
“Well, I think I’ve got it!” said Jacob.
“You do?” asked Snudd.
“No! Let me contimplate some more!” said Jacob scratching his beard. After seven more hours of redundant contimplating and beard scratching, Jacob finally did come up with a solution.
“You are a high authority figure in the Sploot Kingdom. You’re practically
one of them celibrettie folk. You can host another reunion and prove that you’re
actually Prophet Snudd, and tell them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth!” said Jacob. So Snudd did exactly that. He explained everything, that he
had pretended to be his outgoing scientific cousin in order to not be made fun of
for being shy. Another meeting was held, all was good and the bearded
ones lived happily ever after, having learned that often, it’s best to be ignored
rather than disliked!
---- Zoobly the Blue Dragon, from Plemurian Forest.
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