Monday, September 20, 2010

Sir Artonious - Short Story

It’s difficult being the wittiest, most handsome, and indubitably the most stalwart in all the world. There is nothing that I have no knowledge of. My knowledge is so well known that I am the explorer for the new uncharted terrain discovered across the sea. I am Sir Artonious of Loxlale. Known to my gracious and pure people as Artonious. Let me give you a brief description of my quaint little community; vibrant pulsing green everywhere, thick tree, gothic, alive. Loxlale is a busy area constantly advancing both socially and technologically. Why recently we discovered this marvelous invention we now call the “wheel”. There is some controversy over the riots and murder it has caused, but oh well. Anyways back to my description of Loxlale’s beautifulness. Loxlale looks as if the gods crafted it. As if it were a sculpture in a garden filled of art. It is an area filled with wondrous characters. Two of who happened to be my partners of expedition. Bartholomew and Betty are their names. Bartholomew is an incapable moron who happens to be extremely arrogant and Betty is from a foreign place so she doesn’t speak English very well. Now Betty is an interesting feller, she can hardly say a word you can understand, but she just so happens to be almost as smart as myself. Anyways they are my companions who journey with me to the four corners of the world. It just so happens to be that we have a new journey to embark on tomorrow.
            Traveling over immense, terrifying, gargantuan blue bodies of water is no small feat. It may be the most crucial and difficult obstacles that one faces as an explorer. On land you stare over the miles of gorgeous ocean in awe. You think that it is one of the most incredible anomalies the earth has to offer. It size makes you feel insignificant, but at peace at the same time. However that feeling is when you are on land. While at sea, on top of the body water your feeling is much different. No mystical, dream like view sits in front of your eyes. No peaceful, calm water for you to gaze at. Instead it looks like a demented monster waiting consume you as you foolishly wander over it boundaries. As you may be able to tell I absolutely despise the sea. In fact I would rather bathe under sizzling hot coals and lava than have to float a dinky raft over its waters. But sadly I can’t bathe in coals and lava, and I do have to traverse across the sea, such is life. Good thing for me that I have two loyal partners who can be manipulated to do everything I please. Today we walked down to the dock where our weak and rickety boat laid harbor. By we I mean Bartholomew and I. Betty was already there preparing for the trip. She always likes being one step ahead of the game. Allow me to describe fully my two companions so you get the right concept of them. Bartholomew is a dumb prick. His sole purpose for tagging along is that of a donkey or mule. He comes from a wealthy family of farmers and imbeciles. When Bartholomew was just a tyke he was dropped more than several times on his head. As he grew up he was thought to be retarded by the majority of the town. He speaks incredibly fast at a volume that is unnecessarily loud. Often times when he tries to make an argument he begins to unintentionally scream in your face, it’s innocent though. The problem with him arguing though is he is the most stubborn bastard known to man. Anyways he has a goofy smile and a sloppy walk that makes him seem drunk. The moron could sleep for months straight and has no ambition in life other than to annoy me and never leave my side. Then there is Betty. Betty is a tan, lanky blonde girl from a place unknown to me and everyone else. When she was a younger she was found washed up on the body of water I loathe so much. It is a very strange case because she is the only person from Loxlale that has not been born there. She has quite an unusual sense of style because of this. Betty will never part with her monocle eyeglass that she found on the beach on her arrival to Loxlale and she also is never seen without some sort of silly hat. Along with her silly hats and monocle she wears vibrant clothing much unlike anything anyone else wears. The typical attire of the typical person is plain robes and sandals. Betty’s typical attire is wild mis-sewn clothing that she dyes whacko colors. Both Bartholomew and Betty make up a ridiculous duo to adventure with, however I have come to enjoy their company.
            So we are off on our way to uncharted territories. Our goal is to reach a newly found piece of land that is several weeks off the coast of Loxlale. It has been two weeks on this tiny indecent raft that has been made by illiterates from plywood. It surprises me every time I live from being on this thing. I have to refer to it as thing because it is so ghastly it can’t even be called a boat. The “thing” is about fifteen feet long and looks like a large canoe. The fact that we take it over the ocean boggles me and the fact that it withstands the ocean boggles me even more, however it has been used many a time and has survived without fail. The boat ride is always the worst part of the trip, not just because I am thrown aback by the sea. It’s so awful because I always get so ancy. There is absolutely no space to move about and the water is too horrific to swim in. On top of the limited mobility I have to deal with dimwit Bartholomew always pouting. When it comes to boat rides Bartholomew’s inner child really becomes apparent. He constantly complains and asks when we are getting to land. The worst part of his pouting is that when you tell him to shut up he only worsens. And if you get physical with the oaf than he gets angry and stubborn. Once when we set out of a remote island far to the south of Loxlale. On the way I had the innate urge to smack Bartholomew upside the face. Smacking him resulted in arguing, which resulted in wrestling, which resulted in getting into a tango with a bear. Anyways the point is Bartholomew is a dip shit. Betty on the other hand is a saint when on our boat rides. She rests quietly the entire length of the ride and doesn’t make a sound. She always has a look about her like she is contemplating the life’s most hidden questions. Often I think what goes inside that kooky girls head, but quickly give up because it hurts my own head to much thinking about it. Besides her lanky arms she can look absolutely beautiful. My biggest problem with Betty however is that I can never truly have a conversation with her. She knows why we adventure, she understands all that I say and do, but she can’t really converse.
            Today’s the day! We have finally arrived at our destination. I guess I jinxed our raft “thing” by saying it has always survived our journeys because about a quarter of a mile of shore the middle collapsed, forcing us to swim the rest of the way. Some supplies were lost, but all is well. Bartholomew is livid with me because I blamed the whole incident on him. Of course it wasn’t really his fault, I just like to belittle the fool. He refused to walk within fifty feet of me, so he is lamely dragging behind with his moronic pouting look. The ingenious part of belittling good ol’ poor Bartholomew is that he gets to carry all of the supplies. Good thing that we have barely any of them left.
            After walking for a day or two we found something remarkable. A grove of wilderness zapped my eyes as we came to it. Don’t get me wrong, Loxlale is absolutely beautiful, but this particular area was mind fucking. I want to say trees surrounded the circular patch of field, but they were so much grander than that. These “trees” were over one hundred feet high; they swirled with different reds and purples. Around the “trees” were rock formations looking as if they were crafted by man, but still completely abstract. The aroma of the place was thick. It was sweet and mystical almost. I glanced over to foolish Bartholomew and Betty, noticing they were in the same awe as I. Bartholomew looked as if he had just made love to a lady (which he would never be able to do). It was not a thrilled look though, because he is as stupid as a rock. Betty looked like she was in peace. Like she had just found her place of Zen. Her expression spoke to me and said something like “finally”. There was a kind of glisten to her face. I saw how she truly looked for the first time as the warm, fantastic sun of the grove radiated around us.
            We stumbled around for a little bit, laughing like drunken children. Bartholomew looked like he always does because he always looks like an intoxicated child. Anyways, upon our stumbling around we found a peculiar set of plants. They were dirty and circular. However they were not so much of plants as they were soft, miniature trees. Fleshy fungi with stringy stems and large flat tops. They were so noticeable because there was a whole garden of them. Like a piece of earth was made for them to grow there and only there. I peaked over to see if the other two noticed them as well and saw Bartholomew munching them down. He turned his head in my direction with a mouth over flowing with the unknown fungus.  Words tried to come out of his filled mouth, but all I heard was “Mmmm!” After he had the time to swallow he said they were delicious. I thought… Moronic Bartholomew. As I ridiculed him for being a fool once agin, Betty bent down and ate them as well. She nodded in agreement with the idiot. We had not had anything to eat in a while now so I figured why not. The three of us sat down and snacked and snacked. They were weirdly scrumptious. Mid feast, Bartholomew got up and had a more retarded than usual look slapped onto his face. The oddest part about it is Betty had the same look to. Bartholomew began to crack up and point at me. I smacked him as he was cackling. Suddenly I was cackling too. Laughter and laughter. Tears rolled down my face and I still couldn’t stop. Starring at me was a pink-faced idiot who was in the same ridiculous position that I was in, hysteria. After that I don’t much recall what Bartholomew did. I do recall asking myself where Betty was though. She just disappeared. I wobbly got up from the ground that seemed to be breathing and tripped over myself. The second attempt for picking myself up was more successful. As I rose the whacked out grove was pounding into my face, fucking my thought. The “trees” were still swirling with colors. Now they were protruding in and out of the ground, almost shifting. For a bit I must have gone insane. There were hysterical gargoyles of stone dancing towards the entrance of the area. They started to point and speak. I couldn’t hear them though. They definitely were talking to me however. The stone interchanged from gargoyles to plain rocks, which was rather trippy. I decided to forget about it and continued to wander. The grove was turning quickly out of control. Gravity flipped and I couldn’t take control of what was happening. In a final stand I closed my eyes to get a grip. Instantly they were opening again and I was laughing. The laughing only lasted for so long. It soon turned into panic. Panic lead to obscene amounts of sweat, which turned into an extreme feeling of nausea. With immense amounts of energy I stood up to get my bearings. The grove had turned hazy and unfamiliar. Among all the whacked out feelings I saw Betty. I tried to sprint to her, but it turned out I was just dragging my feet repeatedly in one direction. Betty wasn’t as surprised to see me, as I was to see her. When I gave her a huge hug she didn’t return the favor. I stepped back to look her in the face, but the only thing starring back at me was a rock. Confused I searched for where I was. The area that I was standing in wasn’t the grove anymore. I thought hard about where I could be. Thinking lead to a blackout, which lead to me dead.

No comments:

Post a Comment