|
The Greenish Halloween of Crank and Crack Ver II: Writing Ex |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Note: C/P from typing program. No bolding or italics on here. Oh well.
Oh the irony. The painful, pathetic, and priceless irony.
How does someone, someone as hot, sexy, and undeniably fabulous as Crank, get into a situation like this one? Especially if it’s with someone by the name of Crack?
What type of name is Crack anyway? Sounds like a certain someone’s parents hated him and were probably smoking something a little like the name when that certain someone was born.
Then again, the name Crank is not much better, but that’s beside the point.
The point is, considering the current situation the hot, sexy, and undeniably fabulous Crank is in, is that one should never watch a certain someone named Crack EVER try to make a Little Endearing Pot-hiding Red-head that’s too dang freaking Evasive but will be a Confectionery Hound And Uncover Nuts… or LEPRECHAUN. EVER.
Especially when that person named Crack has had therapy for a Leprechaun obsession.
“HOLY EINSTEIN’S GHOST! CRANK! SPEAK TO ME, MY DEAD FRIEND.” Shake, shake.
A pair of brown eyes opened slightly to see who was stupid enough to wake him. There were only five people in the world who were even crazy enough to enter his room without his permission, four of whom were suicidal enough to even touch him, and only two of them were gutsy enough to shake him awake. Not even his strict father, his Martian of a little sister, or his snobby older brother were allowed to wake him. He made sure they knew not to as well. (Crank may not seem like it, but he knows how to set up a bomb under a bed without you knowing. Just ask anyone who dared to wake him, even if it was an accident.)
The other two - his mother and his best friend - were a pair of people Crank just couldn’t get his hands on no matter how hard he tried. Aside from the fact that his mother gave birth to him, the-one-who-shall-not-be-awoken-any -time-before-2PM, she was more diabolical than him when she wanted to be. If it were her being awoken, it wouldn’t just be a bomb. Oh no. There would be knives and booby traps and, if she could get her hands on it, super glue. It sent shivers up and down his back just thinking about it. But she wasn’t the one Crank was most afraid of when push comes to shove.
As a matter of fact, it was his neighbor, the vain of his life, and worst of all, his best friend. Not only was the guy evil, he was the worst kind: the annoying kind. And unlike his mother and him, this person had access to anything he wanted imaginable… exclude anything leprechaun related. (Don’t ask.)
This person, no - this thing! - was named -
BOOM.
“Wakey, wakey Sunshine!”
“CRACK!”
Sitting up, Crank saw an orange object fall off his charcoal-colored hair and land in-between his legs, which were painfully tense and awake now. Beside him, was a grinning blonde with shining blue eyes.
“Good morning Crank! I’m glad to see you’re not dead like I thought you were! Luckily I brought my bazooka today to show you! I thought you were dead for about twenty minutes there! I mean, you always look dead, but what I mean is that when you were sleeping just now, I seriously thought you were dead because you didn’t move the first few time I shook you, slapped you, and hit you! You just made a bunch of noises, and by then I seriously thought you were dying, and so I took aim with my Pumpkinizer2000 bazooka, and fired, and now you’re awake, and yeah! Isn’t the Pumpkinzer awesome, Crank? Of course it is! I, Crack, am the scientist who made it! And a mad one at that too! I’m still trying to work orange powder with black confetti into the projectile -” Crack paused when his face brightened considerably, “AND OH MY DA VINCI, CRANK, GUESS WHAT TODAY IS!”
Crank gave him a blank stare before holding up the object that had fallen onto his blanket-clad legs. The soft, squishy object was shaped exactly like a pumpkin. Turning the projectile towards himself, Crank said lowly, “The day I finally get more than eight hours of sleep?”
Adjusting his swirly glasses, Crack cackled. “No, Silly! It’s HALLOWEEN. See? Look, I carved that face on the pumpkin myself! Get it? Get it? I shot a Jack-o‘-latern at you! A JACK-O‘-LATERN, CRANK.” He continued to cackle uncontrollably.
And Crank had no idea what was so freaking funny. Crank threw the pumpkin right back at him, in which was caught with a smile, before collapsing onto his bed again with the black covers over his head.
“CRANK. Today is not the day to sleep! It’s Halloween! The day of candy-giving! Free candy, Crank! C‘mon, think of the CANDY. You‘re hurting their feelings by not getting up on this great day!” The blond shook his best friend.
The dark-haired boy stayed still. Maybe if I just stop moving, he will go away.
A few seconds pass. A minute goes by and soon, Crank’s mind is drifting in and out of consciousness. The boy groans blissfully into his pillow.
Suddenly, once again, Crank felt his body jerked out of the warmth of sleep. But instead of him sitting up, Crank felt his head being whacked against the furniture of his home’s hallway. His bony ankle was in the clutches of none other than Crack.
“Crack! Put me down!”
“NEVER.”
“Crack, before I freaking stab your neck in your sleep with my fingers, run them down your throat, and tear out your spleen with a toothpick, put. Me. Down.”
Crack just laughed, and turned around to say, “Aww, spleen-picking! How did you know that was my weak spot?” but he ended up slamming Crank’s cranium into the nearest wall.
“Ow.”
“Huh? You say something, Crank?” Crank heard the sound of his backyard door being opened. After a few more bumps, Crank was being dragged across the patch of grass that separated his house from Crack’s.
“I give up on life.” Crank looked up at the freakishly bright blue sky. Honestly, it burned his eyes, but he said flatly anyway, “You can kill me now.”
“Nah, can’t do that yet, my friend! I still need you alive until I can make a clone of you! But until that day comes, I will make sure you live, and won‘t die! Especially in your sleep since I have a camera and I an alarm in your stomach that will continently alert me of your impending death enough so I can give a breath of life if necessary.”
Crank’s line of vision didn’t move.
-
An hour later.
"..."
"..."
"Crack...?"
"Silence! We must be quiet, Crank!" Crack glares at his, "assistant" (more like man-slave) and gives the universal sign to be quiet: putting the side of the index finger to the lips.
"But-"
"SILENCE, I SAY!" He leans in. Crank leaned back by reflex, as Crack continues. "I am about to make one of the most horrifying - yet slightly adorable - creatures to EVER BE FOUND ON THIS PLANET."
Crank leans back in, and lowers his eyelids in suspicion. He stares down at the test tube in between them. The green, jelly-like liquid sat still as Crack conjured up some boxes. Crank crossed his arms. He was awake on a weekend for this? He was still in his PJs! The man then proceeded to glare at the tube of green. Stupid experiment. Why the hell would Crack drag me from my house to here?
Which, by the way, was only twenty feet from his room, to Crack's garage. Hey, it was far to Crank's standards!
"Aha!"
Snapping out of it, Crank watched Crack pull out something he hadn't seen in months from a very discreet-looking box. His eyes widened, and he took an instinctive step back.
"Crack," he stared slowly. "What did the doctor say about keeping the hat...?"
Crack looked at him, then the hat. "He said to get rid of it." Crack's hold on the hat tightened. "But I love my Leprechaun hat!" He then cackled. "NO ONE SHALL TAKE MY HAT FROM ME. NO ONE!"
"Crack, you spent a year in therapy for this. Give Crank the hat..."
"NEVER!" Crack hissed. "Besides, this is the key to all our worries, Crank!"
That's what you said last time when you tried to create cheese with a bull and two pieces of gum. He mentally shivered. He was NEVER reliving that AGAIN.
"Don't tell me you're gonna try to create an Irish clown!" Crank slowly approached the man with the green hat. "Those exist, Crack..."
Crack laughed. "Of course not, silly!" Crack held up the test tube, and pulled out the stopper. He grinned his usual half-crazy, three-fourths-nut job, and a fourth happy smile. Crank relaxed, and closed his eyes.
"I'm gonna make a Leprechaun!"
Crank immediately broke two blood vessels in his eyes.
"WHAT?!" Crack looked slightly afraid of the red-eyed Crank, but managed to pour the fluid into the hate, and he immediately tossed it onto the floor.
Crank screamed like a little girl.
One second.
Two seconds.
Ten seconds.
Crank looks up, and spies nothing had happened. But now there was a new lawn ornament in the garage.
"Top of the mornin' to ya!" The trinket tilted its hat. Crank blankly stared at it.
"IT LIVES!" Crack screamed, and runs to hug it. The creature takes a side step, and Crack goes running into the wall.
"Oh, ho ho! Trying to catch me now, eh?" The small little man clicked his heels, and began hopping all over the room.
Crank watches in horror, as Crack chases with over-flowing enthusiasm.
"Catch me if you can!" And the living, breathing LEPRECHAUN runs out of the garage, and into the streets.
Crank continues to stare blankly at where the thing first greeted them. HOLY BANANAS. CRACK ACTUALLY MADE SOMETHING LIVE! BETTER YET, HE MADE SOMETHING AT ALL!
As he contemplated the end of the world, Crack cries, "NOOOOOO! MY LEPRECHAUN!"
He snaps out of it, and then bites out, "What did I tell you about you and that stupid leprechaun fetish you have!"
Crack grins again. "That I shouldn't be anywhere in a fifteen mile radius!"
"Yet you made one."
"I know!" Stars in his eyes, his cheek on his palm, an elbow on his work station, and a little drool coming out of his mouth, he adds "Ain't it great?"
"Your freaking little man of Irish heritage just ran onto the streets!"
"Wha’?"
"The thing ran away!"
"Huh?" His eyes were barely focused on him.
After a second of thinking, Crank shouts, "THE LEPRECHAUN WANTS TO LEAD YOU TO HIS POT OF GOLD!"
"LET'S GO ON AN ADVENTURE TODAY, CRANK!" Suddenly, Crack is clad in an explorer's outfit.
Crank slaps his forehead. What have I done?
So the two begin searching for the little man, and every time Crack sees a rainbow, he screams, "LEPPY, COME TO DADDY!"
And he cries when he only gets a lollipop from a nice old lady who finds him.
Soon, night falls on this Halloween, and Crank is so tired he can barely move. They searched all day, but found absolutely nothing.
As Crack licked his lollipops with tears running down his face, Crank put up a sign for the lost creature. It was simply a piece of computer paper with both Crack and Crank’s scrawl. It was mostly Crank’s tired, yet neat script, while someone had used a paint brush to write in his commentary.
LOST: LEEPPPYYY! HE’S MY EXPERIMENT, AND I MADE HIM WITH A WAFFLE IRON AND MY BELOVED LEPRECHAUN HAT! Mechanical Lawn Ornament
Description: HE'S A LEPRECHAUN, DUH! HE’S SHORT AND CUTE AND SHORT AND GREEN AND RED AND SHORT AND CUTE AND HE TALKS FUNNY. About two feet tall, with a red beard, and a green outfit. It can talk, and has the ability to walk/run around. Do not listen to his rambles of pots of gold. He only wants to eat your soul.
If found, please call: (xxx) xxx-xxxx
LEEPPPYYY, COME HOME! I HAVE SOME GOLD FOR YOUR POT OF GOLD SOMEWHERE!
 Ukeire · Tue Dec 22, 2009 @ 01:59am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
