AIM: Pancaek Beast | E-mail: shdwdde@gmail.com | Denny's House of Pancaeks
The Boss vs. Celes, Jill vs. Sheena, Peach vs. Daisy, Zelda vs. Carmen Sandiego (Points: 7/8 Matches: 7/8)
You enter the mansion again with a major sense of purpose. The ghost town outside slowly comes to life; the Razor cell phone balances delicately between your sausage fingers.
You hit a swift random combination of keys.
"Hello?" A voice trickles through the speaker in the phone and swirls delicately into your aural canals. "Who is this?" Her silver tongue seems to reach and delve deep into your mouth - er, ear - even though the phone. The sweet juxtaposition of her words caresses even your anaconda-sized tongue to formulate something to say.
"It's the first member of the D. K. Crew!" you say, with great rhythm and rigorous vigor.
You can hear her swoon. Your heart melts. "I'll be right there..."
Click.
Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep... ring, ring, ring
"Yeah?" It is the voice of a sexy woman who has had more than her share of men. You do not respond. "Hello?" There is an expectancy to the voice, an exasperation, a genuine "I'm gonna kick your ass if this is a prank call" quality to it. "Look, I don't know how you got my cell - I don't even know why I have a cell phone, but if you don't tell me who you are -"
"ARGGGGGGH."
"Alright, that's it. No one wakes me at this hour in the morning and gets away with it..."
Click.
Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep... ring, ring, ring
"Princess Daisy!" The soprano's voice is an arrow from the phone, piercing you to your core. Unpleasantly reminded of the brat nemesis who earlier escaped you, you seal your eyes and try to block her out.
"May I ask who is calling?" she squeals. Even holding the phone at arm's distance, you flinch at the abrasive vibrance.
"Helloooooo!" Daisy trills, and finally you give in.
"KONG. KONG. DON. KEY. KONG."
"I'll seeya soon, sweetie!" she giggles.
Click.
Deciding that you have had more than enough fun with your calls now, you carefully replace the cell phone back where it belongs and begin to exit the mansion. You pay no heed as it begins to ring, playing a tune that sounds oddly like that of a TV show.
"Where. In. The World!"
You shut the door behind you.
"You!" It is a tough, angry female voice. You turn around and see... the color purple. The actual tints and shades of the color dance wildly about one another, twisting and turning themselves into a rather feminine figure. You are unable quite to follow the progession of purple scarves, hair, cleavage, especially when they begin to move sporadically.
"What exactly do you want at this hour?" she yells, looking offended, slightly deranged, perhaps even sexy, now that you are beginning to figure out where parts of her anatomy belong in her hideous dress scheme. You do not respond; you remain scratching your head in slight bewilderment, unable to decipher the meaning of this sense of... "fashion."
"Respond!" she yells. No longer is it a command; it is now a declaration of battle as she draws out what appears to be a trading card from her pocket in high style. The deluge of purple twists and turns ridiculously, overwhelming you once again.
"Hold it right there!" The voice cuts across the city streets and slices your chest open. Your hands rise to grip the wound, even as the force of the words knock you sideways. The purple conglomerate turns viciously around to face the criminally cute-looking princess. "Don't you mess around with mother****ing Donkey Kong!" she scolds. Even as you writhe in pain, you cannot help but grunt a little in assent.
Daisy and Sheena begin to have a generic sort of fight. Due to your wound, you are temporarily unable to join in with the fray. Their actions are causing some light in the streets to mingle with that of the rising sun. Most notable, you find, are the sparks that fly from Daisy's frying pan.
"I am here." The spectacular calm of the voice stops the catfighters like a Walther PPK. All motions stop as you gaze upon the angelic form of yet another female. She swirls gracefully between the yellow and purple. "Stop fighting. There are much more important things to do."
Silence. Neither questions her words. Both rather choose to revel in their symphonic beauty. "Come," she says, "I think I may have found Carmen Sandiego."
And with those hypnotic words, all three females drift off vaguely down the city streets. You amble along behind them, slowly recovering from the trauma of Daisy's voice. The white witch continues to lead the paths, twisting and turning down the streets. Normally you would laugh at such adherence to streets; you have no qualms about walking through houses to get to your destination. But aside from unparlleled vocal skill, this woman possesses also a most commanding stride. There is no apparent break in any of her movements, but they are somehow infused with the righteous dignity of a military commander. You cannot help but acknowledge the cliche as it applies to your situation: Time flies.
For it is clearly midday by the time that you arrive at your destination: a runway. One lone airplane resides at one of the edges, perched almost arrogantly, and your party drifts mindlessly toward it. As they are just about to board, the leader stops abruptly.
"Carmen," she barks authoritatively, "You've been discovered! You left a whole trail of boring clues that I don't feel like stating right now, but there's no escape!" Even in her assertion of arrest, she reaches out soothingly with her voice. The hatch opens. "That's right. Don't resist it..."
The three ladies file in as you watch dumbly. You catch a glimpse of something in reddish clothing, but it vanishes quickly along with the rest into the cockpit.
Then you seize your opportunity. You grip the tail of the plane with two hands and, exerting some genuine effort, begin to swing it in circles. Several seconds pass before you manage to overcome the inertia, but you are mother****ing Donkey Kong, and there ain't nothing you can't do. Round and round, the plane goes as you spin it... it lifts into the air, an engine revving, but you continue to swing it. Louder and louder, the propellers whirl, but you pay no heed. Pressure builds in your arms, but it feels so damn good... and then you release.
The plane soars upward, spinning, attempting to stay afloat. It quickly exits your range of vision, but you can tell that it will remain out of control. If you stretch your imagination, you can actually envision the plane crashing several hundred yards into the Pacific Ocean, the inevitable explosion, the puffs of white, red, yellow, purple... and four red ribbons, floating to the surface of the wreck.
You're ****ing hungry.
(A) Take a nap. Hunger usually vanishes pretty quickly... right?
(B) Head for the forest. You do not know how to get to the forest, but you are mother****ing Donkey Kong, and if you think that you can find mushrooms, then by God, you can find mushrooms.
(C) Look around for those ****ing bananas. You're on a goddamn island; there've got to some somewhere.
(D) Check out the airport and see if they have any food. Airport food pisses anyone off. But you like getting pissed off.
SD
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Archives
August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008