Great Balls of Fire

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Acerbus09, Oct 23, 2009.

  1. Acerbus09

    Acerbus09 New Member

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    I've been away from posting for a while. This is just a short intro to a story I'm developing. It doesn't really give you much, but I'm just trying to see if it's worth continuing. Let me know what you think.



    OPEN THE CASKET,” SHE SAID, IN AN ABNORMALLY DEEP tone for a woman, “I’m what you would call ‘in a hurry’ and I can’t touch something that has been covered in feces for five hundred years.”
    “Really? Because you sound pretty tough, and ya’ know after seeing what you did to Andre’s twin back at the mall I just can’t imagine you’d be scar-“
    She spun around and looked me in the eyes; those eyes of hers just bore right through a person’s mind. I really think that I lost brain cells or something because I suddenly felt incredibly more inferior than I already had. I mean, I’m a pretty strong guy. I work out at the gym and all that. Ladies love me so it’s not like I have a confidence issue. I’m pretty certain I know who I am and what I’m good at. I don’t remember the last time my wallet wasn’t packed full with dead presidents. I’m what you’d call a pretty chill kinda guy. But any man, I don’t care how self-assertive, muscular, or rich; any man would go weak at the knees with just one glance from this woman (and not because she’s drop dead gorgeous or anything…although the giant at the mall did drop dead, but that was because she shot fire balls out of her eyes that disintegrated the abnormally large man’s thoracic cavity…).
    My mouth clamped shut. I love my mouth. It’s 50% of what helps me get girls, the other half being divided up into various categories such as, my looks (I’m European from my mother’s side), my charm (which I guess would be no good if my mouth were replaced by burnt skin tissue), and my bottomless supplies of cash (what is it about women and money?). Needless to say, I knew what was best at this point and that was to shut up and open the box…the scary, black obsidian-serpent covered box covered in horse crap.
    “Right, okay then,” I sort of said (it was more of a wheezing noise that may or may not have translated into discernable syllables, much less words), “I will have this bad boy open in a jiffy. Right after I clean off all the shi-“
    I was cut off by my body going horizontal and slamming into the ground. Now that I think about it, it was more diagonal, but my adrenaline was racing to fast to have me worrying about it. My face was also firmly implanted in the street. After I was sure that Axel Boulevard was one of the more pristine streets in the city, I managed to tear my head away from the unexpected and painful inspection to see what looked like Andre’s (that’s Andre the Giant, in case you didn’t catch the allusion earlier) bigger…sister clamping my ancient lady friend’s head between her massive cauldron-sized hands. Wait…I just said cauldron. Up until two seconds ago I didn’t even know what a cauldron was. It just came to me. Dang. It’s happening.
    Suddenly, my brain told me I was having a concussion and that I was passing out. The ancient woman started to yell something at me in slow motion. I don’t know if she meant it to be in slo-mo but I didn’t get a chance to ask. All the sounds turned widdershins and everything turned really, really, really dark purple.