SonicWolf9
Ketuwong
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« on: May 18, 2010, 02:37:27 pm » |
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Disclaimer: We do not claim to own James Cameron's Avatar or the LN user Duma's characters or plot. _________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ ________________________
DREAMWALKER’S DILLEMMA SPORKED BY TI AND SW9 BECAUSE IT WAS THAT CRAP. NO NOT THAT CRAP. WORSE (TI: the random bits of humour in the pop up bits is me... what you think SW9 has a sense of humour??) CHAPTER 1 Life and reality officially sux
THUMP…THUMP…THUMP went the multi-colored bouncy ball that my Dad gave me when I was 10 as I threw it against the wall in front of me. A small area was indented into the wall after years of my ball going against it. I only throw it when something was bugging or frustrating me. Ant this was no exception. (SW9: Wait. What is that wall made out of? Better yet: What is that ball made out of? Adimantium? TI: meh... in soviet Russia ball is wall... no not funny..... maybe he’s got a multicoloured ball made out of some as of yet unknown invicible rubber compound that can never exsist..)
I glared at this indent as I throw the ball again. THUMP. I frowned and sighed explosively. (SW9: Okay, if he sighed explosively then why is he still alive?) “I can’t write to save my life”, I growled softly. THUMP. Finally done with punishing the wall for my anger, I put the ball on the desk next to my bed and laid down. Great, I thought as I put my hands behind my head, Shakespeare could writeRomeo and Juliet, Paolini could write Eragon, but i can't write a f***ing book report[Grammar Owned: 3]??[/desc] Only silence answered my call. (SW9: A kid, of an unknown age, is comparing writing a book/play to writing a report?! What the hell?! Also, putting Christopher Paolini and William Shakespeare on the same level doesn’t work. Paolini, though I like his work, isn’t an excellent author. TI: Shakespeare like sanity is overrated in my honest opinion but.....)
I sighed again. Ms. Carter decided to give every class she had a book report to do over Winter Break that was coming up. But you’d think that being a strait A kid and being the teacher’s favorite would grant you immunity from a torture every High Schooler hated. Nope. Darik was right, I thought as I glanced at the alarm block on the nightstand on the other side of my bed, no matter how nice or friendly he or she is, teachers are evil and rotten to the core. (SW9: ANGSTY EMO TEEN ALERT! WOOP WOOP! Also, “alarm block”? Exactly what is that? Do they taste good? TI: alarm block: when you can’t write an alarm... like writers block but less nasty)
“ASH NICKOLAS BLACKSTONE!”, I heard my mother screech, “You get your @$$ down hear this INSTANT!” (SW9: First, apostrophe fail. Second, what kind of name is Ash Nickolas Blackstone? Are we in the land of Elves now? Third, pathetic censoring is pathetic. TI: Now now it could be worse he could have used something l ike bottom and been nice... or he could of used ass, although random bit of info an ass is a donkey)
I flinched, then slowly got up off my bed with a groan, opened the door, and walked towards the stairs. You could never determine if it was a your-in-trouble-mister call or an I-need-your-help call, but you know you’ve pissed off the bull when your parent uses your full name.
(SW9: From what I am getting his parents use the full name ultimatum when they need his help as well as when he is in trouble. Also, apparently he can’t detect emotions through tone of voice.)
“What is this?”, my mom said in a disturbing calm tone. She was holding up a dirty bowl in front of her. My face stayed neutral, but I broke into a sweat. Me and Darik used the same bowl earlier to do the old Mentos and Coke experiment….Lets just say we won’t be trying anything like that again anytime soon.
“I—”, I started to say weakly. (TI: weakly... what he’s bleeding to death from the wounds inflicted by his mother’s words? Man that’s pathetic)
“Don’t”, she said, shaking her head, “just don’t. I do not want to hear what you have to say, Ash.” She set the bowl down on the counter, leaned against the sink, and folded her arms, glaring at me.Oh, crap, hear it comes. “How many times do I have to say this, Ash? You are [Grammar Owned: 11]suppose[/desc] to put all the dirty dishes in the washer.” She tapped the brand new washing machine she had installed last week. I froze for a second, then inside I sighed with relief. Mom was the Manager of the Blue Cross, Blue Shield downtown. It was a great thing. My mom gets a huge [Grammar Owned: 13]paycheck[/desc], which is what let her install the washer. But ever since she saw a guy come in through the front doors of the building covered head to toe in blood 3 years ago, she’s been squeamish around anything filthy. She has a maid come in every week to clean the house, and when she wasn’t there, mom expected me to clean every dish in existence just so she didn’t have to see filth every time she passes the sink. (SW9: Okay, the mom’s phobia of filth [Rhypophobia for those interested] makes no sense. She should have a fear of blood [Hemaphobia] if anything.)
I stood on one foot, then the other, just to make it seem that I was still nervous, although I already knew I was in the clear. “Does this mean I’m still in trouble?”, I asked. She glared at me for another second, then sighed and unfolded her arms, her eyes taking a more sympathetic look. “No, but I’m warning you only one more time. I see another dish”, she pointed at the bowl next to her, “like that not in the washer, I’ll be grounding you for Gods knows how long. Alright?” Of course I wasn’t alright with being grounded for months on end, but I said “ok” just so she wouldn’t get on my back. “ I will be grounding you, though, for the entire time your at you're dad’s.” (SW9: Oh my gods.... The last grammar two grammar fails... *curls up into a ball*)
My head was down, so of course it snapped up. My eyes grew wide in panic. “ But mom! It’s Christmas Madness on Live all weekend! I cant miss that. It’s just a stupid bowl.” “And they are my stupid rules. You will follow them when you are in this house and you will pay for the consequences of your actions.” (SW9: Okay, this mom is awful. Being grounded for who knows how long over a dirty bowl? Also, she insulted her own rules... TI: man.... what’s next? Locked in the cellar for not eating your greens?)
“But—.” “But nothing.” , she said, cutting me off for the second time that night. She wagged her finger at me like she use to when I was little. “You are grounded, and that is final. Now go get washed up. We are having Chinese tonight.” (SW9: Okay, what parent wags her finger at a teen ager? It’s really becoming harder to make fun of this... TI: one after a little action....)
I looked at her one more time with pleading eyes, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to change her mind. My shoulders sagged in defeat as I shuffled towards our downstairs bathroom. Now how are I and Darik going to enjoy our vacation? ‘Oh, and honey, to top off your grounding, we are having your favorite take-out for dinner. Hope that takes away the pain of not getting to do anything during Winter Break’. That’s it. Life officially sux. (SW9: “sux”? Seriously, “sux”? What. The. Hell. TI: hey just because he finds 4 letter words hard to spell doesn’t mean that we should... oh wait *quotes the guy who wrote this crap* “EPIC FAIL”)
After an agonizing dinner with the devil’s wife, I ran upstairs to brush my teeth. Before I left the bathroom, I looked myself over in the mirror. Same old brown hair, blue eyes, and tall stature. I was really tall for a 15-year-old, (half an inch from 6’1), and I was glad. Most of the bullies at school were shorter then me, and for some reason that gave me a command over them. I smirked at the memory of T.J. getting an atomic wedgy from Connor that popped into my head. But the smirk left just as fast as it came. The book report. Damn. (TI: damn... it’s like... Damn i just found out i’m gay!)
Oh well, I thought as I got into my room and did a flying tackle to my bed, I’ll just do it over vacation. Not like I’ll be doing anything else. I rolled my eyes and looked up at the Avatar poster on my ceiling. I smiled wolfishly. The movie has been out for only a year, but I still think that it was f***ing awesome. But I always forget something, like how Neytiri sounds or what exactly happened during the destruction of Hometree, and for that odd reason, what I forget only makes the movie better the next time I see it. I glanced at the scattered papers on my desk, one reading Na’vi Language. Maybe Darik was right when he said I was too obsessed with the movie. Nah, I thought,you’re a real skxawng for not trying the language, Darik. That was my last thought befor I fell asleep.
….White, blinding light dominated my entire vision. I couldn’t feel or do anything, like someone had strapped me to the wall. I heard multiple voices overlapping each other, and I couldn’t understand a thing they were saying. The light and the growing loudness of the voices was really starting to hurt my head, But then a female voice of timeless age spoke, quieting the others. Come, my child, come…come….
(TI: woah man get off the drugs it’s bad for you... try some chocolate instead... come on! Come come come come come come come come..... i want to lick you)
I woke in a cold sweat, breathing hard, my heart racing. I grabbed at my chest as if my heart was about to break out of my ribs. I tried to slow my breathing. What the hell was that?, I asked myself. Only silence answered. I’ve never had a dream like that before. I let go of my chest and looked at the clock on my desk. 2:30. I groaned and flopped back onto my bed, entirely forgetting the dream. Scratch what I said before. Now life and reality officially sux. (TI: hey wait... de ja vu? What? No new line? Wanted some extra words or something? *mental image of author while writing this section*”must write extra words... must write but i like failing... hmm i know.. *Copies and pastes* no one will ever notice...)
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