Five (A Little Girl Named Chelsey)

Once upon a very terrible time, there lived a girl. A LITTLE girl named Chelsey. Yes, she was very little indeed. And she always stank of awesomeness. And she ate a lot of pretzel sticks. AND she took tap dance lessons twice a week. And, well, on to the story.

Chelsey had no life ambition, aside from being a star. She wanted to walk down the street and hear others call her name. She wanted to be in a picture show. She wanted a macaroni and cheese sandwich. She wanted a life.

Not only was Chelsey very little, but she was also very evil, and would stop at nothing to get her way. She had killed many a worthy opponent, and knew that now was most certainly not the time to stop. She took out a gun from beneath her Lycra underpants, and shots rang through the air. One, two, three men were down. Yet, the battle was not over.

She still had to find the turkey wizard. "I want men in underpants!" She shouted to the gods, and the turkey wizard appeared."I can help you with that." he answered."But, to do so will take all of the powers of the universe. Find me... Chuck Norris."

Chelsey searched long and hard for that sucker, but to no anvil. Where in the world could he be?Chelsey looked and looked. Her evil was growing, as was her anger. No! No no. She found many things, even Carmen Sandiego, but no Chucky-poo.

Was she losing her touch? Was her evil melting? Will dinner be ready in time for father to come home?

Chelsey did something she hated to do, and thought real hard. Oh no. Oh crap. Her intelligence was large, and she finally came up with an answer. All she had to do was think like Chuck Norris. She tried and tried her hardest, but could still only think of men in underpants. Her thinking is what finally led her to him though, as he was actually hiding under an enormous bulge.

She grabbed him by the ear and dragged his sorry ass to the wizard. The wizard then proceeded to take the magical principles of a round house kick, and developed a magical potion to discover the secret to success.

Chelsey eagerly grabbed the potion and swallowed it in one gulp.

Kah-pow, kick, crash, BOOM!!!!!!

Things started to change for CHelsey fast, and all of the men could see it, she was slowly but surely developing a new body, that of a warrior princess... Yes oh yessss she thought, I will now be famous for sure. THE fucking END.

Four

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Bigglby was a very sexual and unobtainable giant. All of the women wanted him, but none of them could ever live up to his mother. Hoping to find love somewhere, he decided to create a new other-self.
He gathered up all of the art supplies in the land, crayons, glue sticks, and magic markers. He finely milled his own paper. He even got a Brazilian wax.
And though he truly knew and understood that he was the object of women’s true desire; he wasn’t exactly sure that he was what women needed. Women needed a sense of self he knew, and so he started his sketch.
He sketched for hours, he sketched for days. He sketched until his grubby little hands could stand it no more. Finally done, and with a feeling of accomplishment, he stepped back and took a gander at his handiwork.
Nothing made had ever been so beautiful. His new and satisfactory alter ego was gorgeous, wonderful even. She dazzled and sparkled with such powerful awesomeness, that he could no longer take it. He had to become her at once.
Taking all of his pride and manliness with him, Bigglby made his way down to the grocery store. He bought all of the apples and bananas he could afford, and rubbed them all over his enormous body.
Next, he went to the fabric store and bought all of their sequined fabric. He made dresses and gowns, bras and pant suits. He even made a pair of cowboy boots.
After going to the salon and receiving a terrific perm, he set towards the bay. Docked there was the answer to all of his dreams, a beautiful ruby amongst the sunset. A very large and magnificent ship awaited his journey.
Bigglby was going to have to prepare. He needed to become ready for a long and still very sexual life as a pirate. Now as a woman, he had all of the skills he needed to love and be loved. He had all of the gusto and pizzazz necessary to lead a swashbuckling life of pillaging and murder. Whichever woman chose to be with him now would surely be the love of his life.
Too bad she looked like Hilary Clinton.

Three

After crash-landing in the desert,
a face-eating monkey
befriends a young runaway with a secret...

Times were hard, and the face-eating monkey, Rozbard, had no idea what he should do with himself. Should he call for help? No, he was hiding from the law... Should he look for food? No, there weren’t any faces around... What should a face-eating monkey do in a time of need? If only he had some assistance...
As if out of nowhere, an unruly young girl appeared. “Yes,” Rozbard thought, “finally something happens!” He had not a clue what to do next (as this was the trouble with monkeys, they were always very indecisive)... Well, he could always eat her face... “No, that’s not a good idea...” He was awfully hungry, but that could wait... right now he needed to find a way out of the desert.
“You young girl, come here.” He said with an odd grin on his face. “I could use your help with something...”
“Sorry, but you are a monkey,” the girl replied, “I am familiar with your kind, and would very much like to keep my face.” She turned away indignantly, and was about to leave when Rozbard let out a dramatic sob.
“I have nowhere to go, and nothing to eat. My life is in shambles, and I don’t even know why. I am just a poor clueless monkey!” The tears were rolling down his cheek, “If you won’t let me have a taste of your face, could you show me that way out?
“Showing you the way out would not only require compassion, which I lack, but it also means that we would have to leave.” She laughed at his pathetic demeanor. “We are not leaving.”
“Why not?” Rozbard brought himself to ask. “I would love to have a nice hot meal, and you are the only face in sight. And since you don’t associate with monkeys... I will starve!”
“Yes I suppose you will... Now if you will excuse me, I will be on my way...”
“Why do you hate monkeys so?” Rozbard felt he must ask her this...
“That, foul scum, is a secret.”

Two

DARTH VADER CHANCES UPON A VORTEX IN A RERIDGERATOR.

“No,” he thought, “if all of the lovely little unicorns are radioactive, that means that I only have hours to find a cure...”
His head was a tangle of lies and questions that he could not comprehend. With time slipping by, he knew without a doubt, that he would die. He had only just begun to live his life. After moving to the Dark Side (the world filled with unicorns) he felt refreshed. He could start anew. But now, with the impending doom closing in on him, he didn’t have a chance. Not a single godforsaken chance in the world.
How would he spend his last fleeting moments? He had no idea. Suddenly a thought came to him... He was famished. That’s what being an evil dictator would do to a person. He knew that he should eat before dying. Who wants to die hungry? Not Darth Vader, that’s for sure.
Slowly he made his way to the kitchen. “A Twinkie! That’s what I’ll have. Nothing better to get your mind off of a slow painful death than a delicious pastry treat, That’s what I always say. And a yellow one of all things!” This made Darth Vader quite happy. “I’ll never be sad again.” he proclaimed.

One

It was a sad and terrible day in the life of beloved actor and pop phenomenon David Hasselhoff. Dressed like Liberace, he had no other choice. He had to do the inevitable. He knew that he must find a Lady Bic, and shave the unholy. No other razor would do. He gathered his belongings (a tape deck and yellow bandana) and set out to jazzercise his way to victory.
Twenty hours, and 30,000 calories later, still no justice. What was the man to do? How could he complete his favorable task without the Sasquatch? He knew what it would come down to, and he wasn’t happy. David must make a Sasquatch, out of blood and sweat.
After the Sasquatch was finished, he started to rub it down with Gillette Shaving Gel (melon burst, to be exact). Yes, he thought, this is finally it. That feeling of satisfaction like nothing else.
I Will. Shave. SASQUATCH. !!!?!

Slowly he began what he was made to do... until the razor slipped from his hand, only to be lost forever in the depths of the forest.....

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
THE END.

Greetings, and salutations.

My name is Sierra and I am an eighteen-year-old whatsit living in Oregon. This blog is mostly reserved for short stories of mine, but may also feature ramblings of some sort if I am feeling up to it. I will try to update this thing at least once a week, so stay tuned or shove out.