I'm making it up as I go, really, but yeah, I can be very creative, very quickly.
Well, I'm bored, so I might as well begin the next chapter.
Chapter 1: Late
The door blew open as he entered the building slowly and stepped on the beige tiling of the school, as he frequently does, and scanned the main hall. The halls showed no signs of life, and silence and solitude emanated from the corners of the hallways in powerful waves of casual indifference, and the door scraped along the rubber mat and sealed the exit, booming loudly and swiftly piercing the intestines of the school. He swiftly hid behind a nearby pillar to avoid being noticed, checking out the are to determine whether or not there were any witnesses in the are. Judging it to be safe, he walked out into the open and sighed softly, noticeably pleased that he had not been seen. Only mice could be seen scampering about, carrying with them random small fruit and nuts towards their den, where they would be safe from the psychotic janitor.
Ferrik took a few more steps towards the horizontal center of the hallway and expressed slight confusion at the lack of people present in the hallways. He knew that today was supposed to be a school day, at least it had been when he had last checked the calendar, which was immediately before he entered school grounds, so he couldn’t think of where everyone else could be. Looking at the massive digital clock positioned on the wall parallel to the entrance, he discovered the fact that he was late to class, seventeen days late, in fact, which would probably cause some difficulties later, but he decided that he would have to deal with that later, once he made it to his classroom and gave his teacher a reasonable excuse as to why he was late to class. He began to make his walk towards his first class, but since it was four miles away, it was going to take a while, and was largely a futile effort.
He was wearing a plain, loose-fitting gray shirt, with random splotches of white, with the words, ‘The sky is the limit, and we can’t reach it” painted black in chiller font on the front. On his khaki pants were oddly positioned words of encouragement, which due to both placement and extraordinarily horrendous handwriting, were completely illegible. He was holding a comfortable black fedora with white stripes he had seen in films that he had only recently seen during the summer. His shoes were black and laceless, with dried paint, which, though it was peeling, seemed to grip the shoes with forceful, meaningless ambition. In his right pocket sat his black leather wallet, damaged, lens-less glasses, and an unsharpened number two pencil with the lead missing. He had evidently forgotten his backpack, though he did not seem to notice this fact yet. He had a watch on his left hand, but it was totaled, which Ferrik still glanced at every few seconds, only to realize the miserable excuse for a wristwatch he had been wearing was not only not working properly, but was moving counterclockwise, which he found to be bizarre. A black and white piano necktie hung around his neck, just loose enough to enable him to breathe, but still tight enough to cause him visible discomfort.
He displayed a blank stare at his surroundings, as he cautiously walked forward, attempting to make as little noise as possible with mild success. The grey walls surrounding him seemed to stretch on forever into the distance, with a minuscule speck of light barely visible at his distance and corridors branching off in a perfectly symmetrical manner into other hallways, which he was going to avoid at all costs, lest he be placed in an unwanted situation which he was not willing to go through alone. Straying from the main hallway was essentially the same as committing suicide, as only one result would come from such a venture.
On the ground a short distance away, placed on a lovely piece of modern kitchenware, was a small blueberry muffin, with actual, shining blueberries poking their heads out of the soft, cushiony exterior of the muffin. Ferrik stopped immediately before it and leaned over, lifting it up, plate and all, and then grabbed the muffin. Cautiously and sluggishly he placed the plate in its original position on the floor and began to contemplate eating the muffin.
Ferrik had been walking for well over an hour now, and he had yet to find his classroom. He slowly began to realize the fact that he did not have, presently, his schedule in his possession, as he apparently left it at home in the morning in all of the confusion, though that was of little importance when one considered the fact that he had no idea what schedule he was supposed to go by for the day. Regardless, he continued onward, hoping that the class he intended to arrive at was the one he was supposed to be in anyways. He could still taste the blueberry muffin as he continued to walk forward, rapidly losing interest in arriving to class on time, and instead, he stopped before a large mahogany door that stood to his left, inviting him to enter with a sinister air about it.
Ferrik, ignoring the sinister demeanor of the door, opened it without the slightest regard and walked in, somehow winding up next to a green dumpster, which, even though it was a dumpster, was in terrible condition, mostly. The dumpster’s exterior was completely covered in garbage, what Ferrik assumed to be vomit, and an assortment of various other forms of refuse. However, the interior was unusually clean, if you exclude the random assortment of turnips, to the point where one could assume it would be safe to eat in there without much fear of the food becoming contaminated, excluding, of course, the various airborne insects that seemed to gather in areas such as those. Ferrik looked around and noticed that he had walked outside the school and turned around to return indoors, but he found that the door was both closed and locked, which proved to be of greater annoyance to Ferrik than standing next to a progressively worse-smelling dumpster could ever hope to be.
He started thumping on the door, only to receive no response, and decided to surrender himself to the dreaded pink slip that went along with truancy, but his hope was renewed when he noticed smoke rising from behind the dumpster. He walked to the side and recognized his friend lighting some smoke on fire, which appeared to be easier than one would think.
“Thomas, what are you doing out here?” asked Ferrik, with an obvious hint of curiosity in his voice.
Thomas dropped his matchbox, which resulted in the matches burning to crisps, as there was another flame where the smoke had been rising. Thomas raised his fist with harmful intent, but lowered it when he realized who had startled him. “Ferrik, I should ask you the same question. You’re not one to skip out on class, unless you’ve finally decided to have a smoke with me.”
“I’d rather not,” Ferrik said, shaking his head with disappointment, before realizing that the fire had still not been extinguished. He stomped in the center of the flame, leaving the fire unable to consume any more oxygen that was required for survival. The fire shriveled and withered away, leaving behind its remains in a small dark pattern scorched into the already sunbathed cement.
“Good. I don’t smoke,” said Thomas, tossing an unlit cigarette on the floor as he crushed it with his foot.
“Still, you haven’t answered my question,” said Ferrik.
“Yes I did. I just responded with an observation relating to you instead of myself,” said Thomas factually.
“You know what, screw it. Can you at least help me find a way back inside?”
“I suppose,” began Thomas, unenthusiastically, “but why should I?”
“Just help me. It’s not as if you’re accomplishing anything significant right now, anyways.”
“Ferrik, Ferrik, Ferrik. Always trying to display your literary intelligence through the use of complicated words, when a picture says more than you could ever say in thirty seconds.”
“Whatever! Just help me find a way in, and that wasn't even sophisticated diction.”
“That was, but alright, I suppose. Show me where you first left the building.”
Ferrik led Thomas to the door that yielded no human response to knocking and knocked again to show that it would have no effect. Thomas walked up to the door and felt the edges with his hand. Then he removed his shoe and smashed it through the window.
“What the hell’s your problem?” Ferrik asked hysterically. “Do you want me to get in even more trouble?”
“You never said how you wanted to get back indoors.”
“True,” Ferrik said contemptuously, “but I didn’t think you would take it so fucking literally.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, I got it open,” he said, extending his palm in the direction of the empty space in the glass door, with his other hand still holding the brown shoe, “but now that I think about it, I don’t think making my own entrances to any sort of governmental or private-owned institution is very smart. Did you see how easily I broke in? There’s not even an alarm going off.”
Ferrik kneeled in front of the hole, but decided against climbing through because he noticed that the hole was not large enough for him to crawl through, as well as the fact that the sides were lined with rigid, sharp edges. “The opening's not big enough,” he said.
And with that, Thomas proceeded to completely demolish the door with his show, breaking every last piece of glass from the doorframe. He then sat down to put his shoe back on. Ferrik hid behind the dumpster, expecting an administrator or a policeman or policewoman to arrive and deliver them to the principal, but after realizing he would be taken to the principal for punishment, he stopped fearing for his record, as he knew that Chuckles would either not give a damn, or be completely wasted, and therefore unable to pass judgment upon Thomas and Ferrik. Ferrik then gagged and bent over and proceeded to throw up all over the dumpster due to the appalling smell of the vomit and assorted garbage on the dumpster.
“Not the muff!” yelled Ferrik, as he noticed a stray blueberry floating among the liquid mess he made.
Thomas turned to Ferrik and looked at the pile of vomit now lying on the floor. He turned away, trying not to get the urge to repeat his friend’s actions and said, “Geez, Ferrik. That’s why you’re supposed to filter the air through your teeth. Why do you think no one else ever comes out here?”
“Screw that! My shirt would be a better filter than my teeth!” Ferrik shouted, still bent over, swallowing small amounts of vomit.
“Are you saying that your teeth are misshapen and irregular? I’m not arguing but I think that might be a bit of an overstatement.”
“You bastard,” Ferrik said irritably, coughing up the remains, then he heaved another batch of food, bile, and mixed foods and drinks, into the already colorful pile of repulsive liquid on the floor. Thomas shook his head in disappointment and turned back to the door while Ferrik was still removing whatever was left over dangling from his mouth. Thomas grinned and walked towards the broken door. Having finished for the second time, Ferrik ran back to the door to rid his mind of all thoughts related to the incident that had just occurred.
Thomas kicked shards of glass away from the new barren entrance he had created and stepped through, removing small shards of glass from his shoes once he got to safe ground. Ferrik stepped through, not having to worry about getting stabbed by glass and met Thomas on the other side. Thomas looked up, still in the process of removing glass and said, “I still don’t hear an alarm. They must be replacing the security or something like that.”
“Just be glad you didn’t set off any alarms.”
“My parents wouldn’t care if I got in trouble. Hell, the only reason they sent me here in the first place is because it was the cheapest school they could find.”
“Shhh!” hissed Ferrik in an urgent manner. “Do you hear that?”
Thomas placed his hand next to his ear in an attempt to receive more sound, and then he realized what he heard. His heart rate immediately shot up, and his blood pressure followed suit as the color drained from his face. “H-Hotel California!”
---Well, it's the beginning of Chapter two. Props for anyone who knows where I got the name for the character. I constantly wear a piano necktie, by the way.
Last edited by Fievel
on Tue Feb 02, 2010 1:42 am, edited 3 times in total.