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Thread: D'oh! (A Completely Un-Simpsons-Related Hopefully Humourous Short Story)

  1. #1
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    Default D'oh! (A Completely Un-Simpsons-Related Hopefully Humourous Short Story)

    D’oh!

    I’d like to start of with a warning:
    This is a story born from a very strange idea that I had and may make little or no sense to any reasonable person.
    Luckily, you don’t see many of those round here so I think most of you will be fine.

    As I said, this was a spur-of-the-moment random inspiration thing and I’ll only continue with it if a sufficient number of people think it’s a good idea, or a bad idea that could be quite funny if I carried on.

    Either way, it probably won’t be very long because:
    A) I’m currently writing another fic (JAJ, see my sig),
    B) I have limited time to write as it is.

    So, fasten your seatbelts and… off we go!

    ***

    In a typical flock of Dodrio, there are seventy-five individual birds, that translates as twenty-five males, each with one life-long partner and one juvenile Doduo chick. That’s a total of two hundred beaks jabbing at anyone who get’s too close, two hundred hearts pumping vigorously as the birds run at up to forty miles per hour, four hundred eyes scanning the horizon for would-be predators, four hundred lungs producing their characteristic two- and three-fold squawks, and, even more astoundingly, not a single brain-cell between them.

    Old-fashioned pokemon encyclopaedias and even some of the new pokedexes will tell you that having two or even three heads automatically makes the Dodrio line very smart and capable of “executing complex plans,” unfortunately, for the vast majority of Dodrio and Doduo, this is not the case.

    The real reason a Dodrio’s heads stare in three different directions is not that it is being “wary” but that they have had a falling-out and are refusing to talk to each other.
    The real reason that Dodrio are capable of reaching such unbelievable velocities is that, as youngsters, they continually build up their leg muscles trying to out-run their other head.
    The squawking is not a complex signalling system warning others in the flock that danger is approaching, but the aforementioned arguments taking place (the theory of the warning system arose when Dodrio were seen running away from the signalling bird; this was, however, not because they’d been told of imminent danger, but because wildly flailing beaks are a force to be reckoned with, even by another Dodrio).

    The ‘dexes do, however, have something right - the reason for these arguments: Each Doduo or Dodrio head has a very different personality. In Doduo, the heads are simply Happiness and Sadness, whereas, when a Doduo evolves, the heads’ representative emotions become even more extreme, changing into Joy, Woe and Anger.

    This inherent split-personality causes a lot of problems, the least of which being the (for want of a better word) individual arguments. As the following tale shows, if you can‘t get along with yourself, then you sure as hell can’t lead a flock of squabbling, three-headed birds on a journey across uncharted wastelands.

    ***

    Far out on the Great Plains of Fiore there once lived a typical flock of Dodrio and Doduo. The Plains were the perfect habitat for such pokemon - the ground was firm under-foot (excellent for running) and there were plenty of berry-bushes to pluck food from whenever the need arose. The native pokemon were friendly and mostly herbivorous and the birds lived in harmony with their environment for many years. But then, one Summer, a particularly scorching heat wave swept across the plains. The grass yellowed and wilted, the bushes yielded no more fruit, and the waterholes dried up almost completely. The Dodrio had seen times like these before and assumed that, as before, the heat wave would pass and the Plains would be restored to their former glory.

    Sadly, this time, this was not the case. After two weeks of eating nothing but shrivelled, dried-up berries, the other native pokemon had had enough and flew, stampeded or teleported off, depending on their species.

    Now, Dodrio may not be “smart” but they know when they’re in trouble and the alpha-male of this particular group decided to call a meeting of the whole flock to discuss what to do. He spread the word and clambered atop an outcrop of rock, four of his six eyes surveying the slowly gathering masses below (his third head, Woe, was too wrapped up in lamenting their irreversible doom to care). Finally, it looked as though all the birds were assembled on the patch of bare earth. One of the three heads opened it’s beak to begin the meeting, but abruptly shut it again when a franticly sprinting bird appeared on the horizon.

    All six eyes squinted into the distance and as the bird drew closer a look of exasperated recognition appeared on all three of the lead bird’s faces.

    “Look who’s late again,” growled the leader’s Anger head, “I’ll give him a piece of my mind when he finally gets here.”

    “You better not,” said Woe mournfully, “you won’t have much left if you do.”

    “Oh goody,” chimed in Joy, “our good friend Trip’s here.”

    The Dodrio that was known to all as Trip finally reached the group, only to prove the aptness of his name. Trip’s feet were extremely over-sized, even for a Dodrio, and he was guaranteed to fall flat on his face if he tried to run over anything but the most hazard-free of terrains; today was obviously no exception as his lanky body collided heavily with the ground, throwing up a billowing cloud of red-brown dust.

    Trip clambered back up onto his spatula-like feet - which is no mean feat (a respectable amount of pun intended) when you have no fore-limbs- spitting dirt from two of his beaks. He then tried to take a step forwards and promptly fell over again as the reason that he had not been spitting dirt from his third beak was that it was still firmly embedded in the sun-baked earth.

    Eventually, Trip managed to get himself fully upright and staggered towards the crowd.

    “Right,” shouted the alpha’s Anger head, “can we finally begin the-”

    “Excuse me, pardon me, awfully sorry,”

    “Get out of the way fatso!”

    “Ugh, I’ve still got dirt in my eye,”

    “TRIP!”

    “Yes, Chief, awfully nice day, isn‘t it?” replied Trip’s Joy head, pausing in his attempt to jostle his way to the front of the crowd.

    “Will you PLEASE just stand where you are and shut up so we can start the meeting!”

    “Oh, don’t be so hard on him, Anger,” cooed the Chief’s Joy head.

    “Yeah, we’re all going to die anyway, what’s the use in having the meeting at all?” added Woe.

    “And you two can shut-up too!” snapped Chief’s Anger at his other thirds, the Chief would have massaged his temples in frustration if he’d had anything to do the massaging with (that is, excepting is feet, which were currently in use). The Chief prided himself on being more intelligent or at least having more common sense than his brethren, that was why they had elected him their leader after all, but sometimes he thought that Anger was the only part of him that got anything done.

    “Ahem,” he continued, “I have called this meeting to discuss the terrible problems that face our once wonderful community, namely this unbearable, life-sucking drought that has ravaged our once fruitful land, seemingly beyond repair.”

    He paused for breath and a few murmurs from the crowd reached his feathered ears, “What’s he on about?”

    “I dunno, something about football?”

    “I thought he said we had to look out for a wife-plucking trout.”

    “No slimy fish is stealing my wife’s feathers, that‘s for sure!”

    Chief would have headesked if he’d had a desk, or, for that matter, had any idea what a desk was.

    “What I mean to say is, it’s been getting very hot and we need to decide what we’re going to do about it.”

    “Well why didn’t you say that in the first place?” chorused the one hundred and ninety-nine bobbing heads of the crowd.

    Once again, the lack of hard objects to bash his heads against probably saved the Chief from permanent brain damage.

    “Does anyone have any suggestions then?” asked Chief's Joy head.

    Silence reigned rampant over the crowd as one hundred and ninety-nine faces screwed up in concentration.

    “Oh just what we need,” muttered Woe, “now the whole flock’s going to get haemorrhoids on top of everything else.”

    “Aren’t haemorrhoids normally below- ?” started Joy.

    “That’s enough of that,” interrupted Anger, “Don’t worry everyone, I have some ideas of my own, and as Woe said, I really don’t want any of you to… blow a gasket or something. I propose that the whole flock set out across the plains in search of water and food. We will journey far and wide, seeing new sights by day and sleeping rough at night. It will be a wondrous expedition and one I hope will yield the lush lands we seek.”

    “What? He’s talking nonsense again isn’t he.”

    “Must be, something about not shaking hands with a geek.”

    “I tell you, he’s off his rocker.”

    A vein pulsed violently in Chief’s forehead, luckily, Joy stepped in (metaphorically of course) before he could explode in some sort of gooey, feathery mess. “Pack you bags everyone, we leave in the morning! And don‘t forget your toothbrushes!”

    “What’s a toothbrush?”

    “What’s a bag?”

    “Beats me.”

    ***
    Last edited by Inconspicuosaurus; 15th September 2008 at 7:23 AM.
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  2. #2
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    Hehe Dodrio... I liked that, it did seem very very spur of the moment, but it was well written and I liked the humor =D

    One thing:
    Quote Originally Posted by JammyU
    “I tell you, he’s of his rocker.”
    'of' should be 'off'


    Hehe Dodrio...

  3. #3
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    That was quite humorous. It made me smile more than once, and I found myself laughing out loud a couple times. I think you should continue it, I wanna know what happens to Trip, the alpha, and... the rest of 'em.

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