I Am Clever

alec_towser


A Fine Line - Between Chaos and Creation

Everybody seems to think I'm lazy; I don't mind, I think they're crazy...


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Tuesday, Week 8 - The Smitty Story, Chapter 14
Adam Smile
alec_towser
Today I come bearing the longest chapter to date. I'm not sure how I managed that...

Also, special credit and thanks goes to my friend Eddie for coming up with the sheer nonsense that is Breakfast's dialogue (excluding the first and last lines; as evidenced by the fact that they are not sheer nonsense XD). I couldn't have done it anywhere near as well as you did. :P

Title: Smitty And The Quest For The Class 5 Cook
Author: Myself, Smitty 'Jaws' McPatchington, Esq.
Rating: G (might go up later)
Word Count: 7687 (unfinished)
Disclaimer: I don't own the organizations I name in this story (names have been changed), and a good deal of the characters are based off of real people.
Warning(s): MAJOR CRACK/RANDOMNESS. Read at your own risk. :P
AN: My fourth piece of OF. Previous chapters:


Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13

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Smitty looked up at the sign on the front of the shack. "For such a small place, they've sure got a large sign," she observed, reading the words Breakfast's House of Shoes & Everything You Could Ever Need On Your Unexpectedly Long Journey emblazoned above, the ends of the sign hanging off the sides of the building. "Well, this may be our only chance to get supplies out here, so let's make the most of it." She opened the door, and the three of them walked in.

Immediately, the travellers were struck by how much larger the place seemed on the inside. "Okay, I'm not the only one who thought this place was a lot smaller before we came in, right?" Yvanovich whispered, looking around at the seemingly endless rows of shelves. "So where do we find the shoes?"

"I'm not too sure," Smitty said, standing on her toes and trying to see around a rack of Bungee Jumping Illustrated magazines and a shelf covered in nothing but bronzed plungers. "I think I see a service desk over to the right, though. Let's go and ask there."

When they approached the desk, they didn't see anyone, but there was a bell saying "Ring For Service". Tapping the bell once, the three of them stood back and waited - then visibly jumped as a voice suddenly came from behind them. "May I help you?"

"Gah! Don't do that!" Smitty cried, turning around to see the speaker. It turned out to be a large burly man with the head of a tiger, who was wearing a brightly-coloured apron with a name-tag reading Hello my name is Breakfast; how may I help you today?.

Breaking the stunned silence, Won Ton spoke up next: "We require some footwear and supplies for our unexpectedly long journey, and the name of your store suggests that you may be able to assist us in this regard."

The man-tiger pondered this for a moment, then nodded, saying “Tones and overdue pepperoni make perfect macaroni.”

If Smitty had been surprised before, that was nothing compared to what she felt now. "Wait....what?"

“Garbage man Sam ate my dog’s shoe laces. He found good starches," the tiger responded. “My couch was speaking to the King of England. He heard the call of the pennywort and jumped right into the pudding bath. What a horse!”

"You do have shoes here, right?" Yvanovich piped up. "Because as thrilling as this conversation is, my feet are killing me. Priorities, people!"

Breakfast fixed the jester with a stern Look at that statement, and wagged an admonishing finger at the jester. “Academic elites are slippery under winter weather conditions. Their socks lack credibility.” He then gestured for the group to follow him, as he began walking through the store.

Eventually, they found themselves by an incredibly large shoe section, into which Yvanovich bolted, trying to find a new pair as quickly as possible. "Wow." Smitty raised her eyebrows at the jester's frenzied search. "Now if only he would move that quickly when I want him to work for me..."

Beside her, the tiger grinned. “Well, Thai food is interesting enough without peanuts. The flavour of a good walrus is comparable to that of driving exams.”

Smitty and Won Ton looked over at the man-tiger, then back to each other. "Do you understand anything he's saying?" Smitty whispered to the small man standing on her shoulder.

"Not a word," Won Ton responded, shrugging. "My people have never heard of creatures such as him before. We do, however, have a legend that talks of creatures who speak in parables. Perhaps these are parables, or life lessons of sorts?"

Just then, they were interrupted by the jester's triumphant cry. "AHA! Found them!" He came out holding a new pair of shoes...that looked exactly identical to his old ones (minus the wear and tear, of course).

"Well, I suppose change would be too much to ask of him at this point," Smitty remarked dryly. "At least he hasn't picked up a new..." Her words were interrupted by Yvanovich turning the corner in a brand-new tasselled monstrosity. "...hat."

"Do you like it?" The jester beamed. "I can't believe we found a store that not only carries shoes I like, but hats, too! So many hats! There's literally thousands of them; all for dirt cheap! There's even specials - certain bundles of items let you make your own hats, and..."

Smitty cut him off. "Let me guess. Are they from that Faucet™ company you're constantly going on about?"

The jester suddenly found his new shoes extremely fascinating. "Um. Maybe?" He then looked up defensively. "But they're such good quality hats! They're worth the wait!"

Smitty rolled her eyes. "I thought so. Let's go about finding more supplies right now, though - that's the real priority, here." She turned to look at Breakfast, who was currently organizing a shelf of novelty snowglobes. "Excuse me, but where could we find some rope, torches, and Soldier Gruel bars?"

“Talking to the moon, I found my watch. The wallet broke,” the tiger declared and pointed in a direction across the store. He then went back to sorting the shelf, taking great care in dusting off each individual snowglobe, before calling out after the group: “The baby died from too much applesauce. We need more ketchup.”

"Sure," Smitty called out over her shoulder. "We'll, uh... keep that in mind." They then continued on with their shopping, hoping to find everything they needed.

Soon, they found themselves back at the front counter with all the supplies they'd found, ready to pay. Breakfast was nowhere to be seen. "So, should we ring the bell again?" Yvanovich asked, looking around.

"There is no need," Won Ton spoke, pointing at the counter. "He has arrived!"

The man-tiger was now standing behind the till with a large Cheshire-esque grin plastered on his face. “Dairy creamer makes good soup, depending on the essay thesis. What you eat says a lot about your hairdo.” He began ringing through all the items, only pausing to point out a mailing list sign-up sheet to Smitty.

"Ah, sure. Why not?" Smitty acquiesced, putting her name and contact information on the sheet. "Can't hurt, I guess."

Once all the items were rung up, Smitty went to give payment, but found Breakfast offering her a can of grape soda instead. "But I need to pay...?" she said, holding up a charge card. The man-tiger shook his head, still holding out the can.

"...are you sure?" Smitty asked, unsure. Breakfast nodded, grinning widely. He gestured towards the can. “Garage is good on Friday, but not in Portugal on the first of the month. My uncle has green slippers; his shoes are jealous.”

"If you say so..." Smitty frowned, taking the can. As soon as she had taken it and had stashed it away in her bag, the man-tiger punched a button on his till and a receipt printed. Handing it to the princess, he leaned in and whispered urgently in her ear, “Let’s couch the sofa. Recliners are fast in a school zone."

Smitty pulled back, an odd look on her face. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but thanks...I guess?"

As the three travellers left the store, the tiger waved after them. "Have a nice day!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Listography tomorrow!

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