Chapter 8
| The Story | The Authors |
|---|---|
|
He cleared his throat, sent a gentle cascade of notes rolling down the neck of the sitar and began:
Oh, the waterlilies, [he sang]
Folderol-dee with a bumblebee | |
| "Holy crap! Will you listen to this drivel?" Mr. Tickles screamed as he shoved onlookers left and right. He wasn't trying to get anywhere, he just enjoyed shoving. It gave him a sense of satisfaction, it made him feel like a big, tough guy-person(that and the fact that where he was from being a "dwarf" meant being only 6'3" tall instead of the +9 feet that was the norm). | |
|
The only thing that stopped him, that made the insipidly uninspired World Wide Wrestling Federation Semifinals setting of the dwarf's sexual fantasies dissolve into the lusty jungle foliage around him, a riot of lianas and frangipani, was Li'l Debbie. Whereas only moments previously she had been playing a vigorous game of footsie with Mr. Tickles, at the sound of Donovan's plaintive ballad, the snake-cake siren's attentions had become riveted on the gentle Scottish folksinger as he plucked upon his sitar. Why, it was as if Mr. Tickles suddenly didn't even exist anymore! The two of them! The nerve of it! His erection wilted sadly inside the loose confines of nis brightly colored pantaloons. So much effort for nothing! Curses! And we still haven't reached Cupcake Island, either...Now if the others would only show up in the S.S.Ignavia, everything would go back to normal. Sigh... But as usual, he was wrong. | |
|
PAH! spat Mr Tickles as the smitten pair launched into a power ballad version of "Memories" from CATS eyes locked in passion. "Enough!" he cried and began crashing his way into the jungle, a disitnct ache in his unrelieved testicles. | |
|
Poor Mr. Tickles was loosing touch with reality. He was having a very difficult time separating his fantasy world from the real world. He was beginning to doubt Li'l Debbie and Donovan's existence. After all they weren't paying any attention to him. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and pressed his palms to his temples. When he opened his eyes again he saw only swirling colors and light. An occasional disembodied face floated by and laughed at him. Mr. Tickles feared he was finally losing his mind. Then he heard a familiar voice that broke through his hallucinations and brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes and standing on the beach before him was none other than his old mistress Meredith who now very much resembled Dorothy Lamore in 'The Road to Bali'. He clutched at her ankles and sobbed. "I thought you were dead." he cried. "No, I was brought to this desert island by a couple of dolphins a few months ago." Meredith explained. "And look who else they brought." Meredith pointed to the top of a palm tree where a man wearing nothing but a loincloth and a golden brown suntan was picking coconuts. He slid down the trunk of the great palm and walked toward Meredith and Mr. Tickles. It was his old partner in crime, Jake. Mr. Tickles' heart grew lighter and he smiled at his dear old friends. | |
| Jake wasn't so happy, however. He'd just acquired a pecker full of splinters from sliding down the trunk of his beloved palm. As Jake very carefully extracted the hundreds of splinters from his best man, Meredith led Mr Tickles to her Castle, which was surrounded by pavers and fake terracota pots full of exotic plants. An army of giant purple ants played David Bowie's "Little China Girl" as Meredith and Mr Tickles entered the main foyer which was tastefully decorated a la Brudy Bunch style. As Mr Tickle sipped on his eye of newt tea, he asked his old mistress why she had brought him here to her extravagant residence. "You disappoint me, Tickle" she purred as she moved towards an excited Mr Tickles, "I thought that a man of your obvious intelligence would figure out straight away why I wanted you here!". "Is it because you missed me, sugar?" Replied a baffled Mr Tickles. "No, Tickle things have changed. I now work for a man whose power in this world is second to none. Do you know who I'm talking about, Tickle?" Meredith questioned. "You're not talking about Jake are you?" replied Mr Tickle. "NOOOOOO" roared Meredith "Enough with this playing around you silly little man!". Mr Tickle was taken aback by Meredith out burst, but quickly regained his composure in true Tickle style. "I am talking about the messiah, Tickle, the King of television. Aaron Spelling!!" bellowed Meredith. "What the hell does Aaron spelling want with me?" asked Mr Tickle weakly. An exasperated Meredith rose from her chair and summoned the guards. "Mr Spelling wants you to direct the new series of 'The Love Boat'" Meredith replied. As Mr Tickle jumped from his chair to escape Meredith ordered her guards to shackle poor Mr Tickle. "There is no escape, Tickle you are trapped. You don't want to see what happened to the last directors, your friends Li'l Deb and Donovan do you?" To petrified to answer, Mr Tickle did nothing. This infuriated Meredith who then unmercifully showed Mr Tickle what had happened to his friends. "Nooooooo" cried Mr Tickles as he fell to his knees. Meredith let out an evil laugh and said "See what happens when you don't obey the Messiah, Tickle? You are forced to watch old Tom Hanks movies! DO WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER??". Mr Tickle let out a barely audiable "Yes" before he was led to the set of the Love Boat, never to be seen by the outside world again, except as a name on the closing credits. And that's the story of Poor old Mr Tickle. |
3