Tag: silly

Concave of Concerned Catizens

Today’s post is taken from a prompt from the wonderful folks here: The One-Minute Writer. We all love a good conspiracy theory, so here’s the purrfect one!

“You are the president of your local Conspiracy Theorist group. Unfortunately with the internet and all, most of your regular conspiracies have been debunked. You need something new, something that the group can really get behind. Create a new conspiracy theory.”

Concave of Concerned Catizens

There is something out there. I know it. The sheepish minions of conformity are always after people like me. They can’t wrap their minds around the fact that there is more than meets the eye, and it may not always be a crappiota latte or a pair of fuzzy moon boots in 60 degree weather.

I’m getting sidetracked. I need to think of something for our next meeting. The Concave of Concerned Catizens is counting on me. That last debunk was a slap in the face. The sheepish minions of conformity won’t stop until the world is made of lemmings!

We are not alone. They are out there, and they are among us. I will not succumb to society’s stubborn refusal to look beyond science. Okay. I can do this. Let me just put on my traditional foil cat ears.

There we go. It was never secret lizard people! I should have realized that. That myth was invented by the government to throw intellectuals like me off guard!  Not lizard people. It has to be some sort of mammal—no, a humanoid! How else can they pose as warm blooded humans?

It’s the Martians! Why is Mars suddenly popular? Why are we crazy about sending people to Mars now? It’s a trick. It’s an ugly trick. They want us to go there. I don’t know why, but The Concave of Concerned Catizens will find out! They conceal themselves from NASA’s spying robots.

They’ve altered the DNA on a select few super Martians who are walking around among us. Oh my, God. I should have known all along! The Martains are posing as restaurateurs! What better way to spy on us than to listen in on our lunch conversations! The next Concave of Concerned Catizens meeting will be held at McBurgerz Place! As we munch on our delicious burgers and fries, we’ll be watching. We’ll be the masters because we are on to them!

*We will also be voting on the font for our book; it’s a collection of our sightings and theories. I’m all for Comic Sans.

Mr. Burple Berry’s Untimely Adventure

I was looking through some of my old stories and notes the other day. A very burple berry tale surfaced during my hunt. It was then that I remembered I never finished posting the rest of the story I was tweeting in bursts on my old Burple Berry account. While I’m busy NaNoWriMoing, here is the finished tale. It is a silly, fun sort of read. I hope you enjoy it!

Mr. Burple Berry’s Untimely Adventure:
The Case of the Alien Caper
By
M.L. Crabb
Burple Berry was minding his own business, tumbling, bumbling, and mumbling in grassy knoll. A flutter of green and purple striped butterflies jetted out from a funny looking rose bush with drooping limbs. 
“Gold! Gold! Gold!” came a high pitched shrill. Burple rolled to a savvy stop and turned to examine the commotion.  The leaves hissed when the bush gave a sudden shake. Some fell away, cascading down into the grass below. Twigs parted, and a scrawny figure emerged from it. It wore a threadbare top hat which sat on its silver head with a lopsided plop. Pointy ears peeked out from beneath the wide brim. 
“Ah!” it said with a clumsy bow. “Another of the Fairy Folk?” Its slanted, large black eyes glimmered. ‘I’ve seen his kind before,’ thought Burple with a quizzical frown. 
“Z.Z. Talltree, The Elfin, at your service!” Z.Z. bowed again. This time he was tapping his long skinny feet to an unsung tune. He wore a faded, double-breasted waistcoat and a pair of mismatched trousers. 
“Elfin!?” Burple Berry cried, disbelief pouring over his face. “You’re a Lumpkin from the Con’Ma’N galaxy!” 
“Eep!” Z.Z. shrieked. “Oh dear me! You’re from Zoron, aren’t you? I should have known!” Z.Z. knelt down and clasped his skinny hands. “Please don’t tell the Earthlings! They think I’m a magical elf!” His wide eyes fluttered to and fro as he licked his thin lips. “I’m going on an adventure, you see…One that will end in riches for we.” He nodded his strange head. “Z.Z. is good to Zoron. Z.Z. will split the treasure if you’d be so kind to aid me…”
Burple Berry rizzled into a roll. ‘Treasure?’ he wondered. ‘Adventure?’ He considered Z.Z.’s offer and promise. He was on Earth to explore, after all. What would it hurt to get some glittering, glimmering, and glistening riches in the process?
“I’m in!” he announced. Z.Z. returned Burple’s reply with a smile. 
“Come!” he turned, his tattered coattails flapping behind him. Burple followed him into the rose bush. Beneath the bush’s gnarly limbs was a narrow staircase made of compacted mud. Z.Z. skipped down it with a bounce, whistling a zippy melody. Burple rolled down after him. Flakes of loose mud stuck to his round form, but onward he went! 
Slip! Slap! Burple missed a step! The staircase suddenly dropped with a tremble. The little wingless ding toppled into a deep, damp hole.  Mud and water plastered themselves against his burpleberry fur. A metal clang slammed above him, forcing him into a rickety cage made of whispering twigs, petrified with age. “Heee’sssss ourssss,” they seemed to say. 
Burple Berry lurched forward in an attempt to snap one of the twigs, but a metal clamp held him in place. It rattled against his movements, creating an eerie jingle which slithered through his ears. A high pitched cackle echoed in that deep, dark hole. 
“The bankers of Con’Ma’N will pay a pretty price indeed!” Z.Z.’s voice boomed into the little place. “Earth trinkets are a plenty, but a citizen of Zoron? Oh ho! Z.Z. will have his own mansion to boast with all the tresses and glamour he could possibly want!”  
“But you said Zoron was a friend of Con-” Burple Berry started. His large black eyes roamed the hole, but it was no use. Z.Z. had covered it up with a heavy board. He might as well be wearing a blindfold. 
“Oh ho! Indeed!” Laughed the grey alien. “The Con’Ma’N galaxy is friend of anyone who fetches such a nice penny as you! It’s been one hundred years since we last had ourselves a Zoron!”  The board issued a groan as Z.Z.’s footsteps bounded across it.  “I’ll be seeing you soon. It shan’t be long for a buyer to come along! By, by, my sweet money bag!”
Burple frowned and sulked in the shadows.
“Oh, and never mind the Earthling twigs. They say funny things.” Z.Z.’s footsteps vanished, and Burple was left alone. He didn’t know who was going to buy him or what someone would want with a little wingless ding like him, but he didn’t like the prospect of it. A shiver ran through him as he threw himself forward. The metal clamp raked against his movements. The alien closed his eyes, despair written on his purple face. 
“Ssssillly little creeeeature,” whispers broke through the silence. “The clammmp keepsssss him ssssstill, yet he persssssissssts!” 
“Help!” Burple cried. 
“Mattersssss of mortalsss are of no importance to usssss.” Burple Berry opened his eyes. The outline of the uncanny twigs was visible in the darkness of the hole.  “We are of noble sssstock. Come from a treeee five thousssssand yearssss ssstrong.” 
“Please! I’ll make it up to you. Unlike that ruddy Z.Z., I keep my promises!” The wingless ding shifted. 
“We only anssswer to the elvessss.” 
“Z.Z. is not an elf. So why do you answer to him?” 
“He isss of no importance. We do not concern ourssselvesss with mortalsss.” 
“But you let him build a cage out of you…” Burple trailed off, frowning. If he was going to get out of this before Z.Z. came back, he was going to have to convince the ancient twigs to help him. If only he could get one to wedge itself beneath the clamp! It might be able to pry it open and free him! The situation was hopeless, but he had to try. 
“Mortalsss build houssses out of our brethren. How issss thisss different? We ssssleep, wait, live…”
“But,” he sighed. ‘They are an old folk,’ he thought. They didn’t care what was built out of them. If only he could find an elf! Not that he knew what an elf was…He had only heard of them from Z.Z—
His large eyes widened. That was it! 
“Z.Z. pretends to be an elf,” he said. “he-”
“What isss thiss!?” The whispers hissed into an angry growl. 
“He thought I was a, um, what did he call it? Fairy folk? He would have had me fooled had it not been for the fact that I’m from Zoron and have seen his people!”
“Thissss cannot be!” A breeze brushed through the cage as the twigs murmured amongst themselves. The alien waited, holding his breath and gasping periodically when his lungs ached for air. The hush of the murmur grew louder, and the breeze quickened. It whirled about the deep, dark hole.  An hour passed before anything else was said. Fear trembled through Burple’s veins. 
“We have ssssummoned the elvesss,” came their whispers at last. “We will help you upon Z.Z’ssss return. The elvesss will deal with him, and we sssshall let you go.” 
‘Bait,’ thought Burple. He was okay with being used as bait so long as the twigs made good on their word. 
“He approachessss!” Sure enough, Z.Z.’s footsteps bounded across the wooden board above him.
“Doing okay, my little money bags?” he giggled. “I’ve got a lovely buyer for you! Captain McEats of the Hungry Banker’s Society has posted a lovely bid.” Burple grimaced. ‘Hungry Banker’s Society? No thanks!’ he mused. He hoped the twigs weren’t lying to him…He had believed Z.Z.’s lies, after all. 
Something rattled against the wood. 
“Just need to unlock this, mmhmm, and it’s a nice pay check for-” Z.Z.’s words were stopped with a shriek. Something hit the board with a loud thud. “But, but! I’m just a-” Z.Z pleaded. Burple tried to hear the elves, but the only sound coming from above was Z.Z.’s constant begging. A flash sent the board sliding down the far side of the hole!
Light flooded the damp place, and Burple had to blink. When he looked up through the twig bars of his cage, all he saw was a beautiful blue sky. 
“It isss done. We ssssshall help you now.”
“The elves! What are they going to do to him?”
“Elvessss are jussst and kind. That isss all you need to know.” The twigs twisted and turned, separating themselves from roof of the cage. They fell into the mud while one freed Burple from the clamp.
“They left you thhhe board as a raaammp. Usssse it.” 
“Thank you,” Burple said, rolling towards it. He turned to give them a proper goodbye, but the mysterious things had stacked themselves into a neat pile, their whispering as silent as the mud walls around them. He rolled up the plank. The grass was just as green as he remembered it, and Z.Z’s rose bush had been cast aside. ‘It was a fake!’ Burple thought. 
There was no sign of the elves or of the grey alien aside from the discarded rose bush. Burple looked around. A part of him was sad that Z.Z. had lied to him about partaking in a grand adventure.
“There will be other chances at big adventures,” he said to himself as he rolled away. Unseen eyes watched him from a secret hiding place. The purple alien of Zoron disappeared into the sunlight, ready for a bath and a hot meal. 

Captain MewMew and the Giant Space Cupcake

Just a reminder: The deadline for the contest has been extended to the 25th! 
…And now for some adorable shenanigans. 

“Orders are in, Sir,” meowed the calico kitten in his office. She was mature for a three month old. Her pink painted claws tapped the tiny typewriter on her desk. “President Socks has been catnapped.”

“He always catnaps at noon, Fluffy. He’ll wake up as soon as he hears the Oval Can Opener.”

“No! Not catnaping! Catnapped!” Her fuzzy tail swished behind her. Captain MewMew brushed his whiskers with his paw.

“He was last seen in space. A giant cupcake is holding him hostage!” MewMew gasped, but he had handled worse. A giant cupcake in space was nothing compared to the penguins from Icearctica. As much as he wanted to do an inconvenient flashback at the most inconvenient time, MewMew brushed his whiskers again. It was time to get to his space jet. The Falcon-IVXX was the fastest fighter jet in existence. The only drawback was that it was fueled by catnip. If only it could be powered by my favorite, wonderful, warm, and nap inducing sun!

ONE MEOWR LATER
Captain MewMew’s glass space helmet glistened in the starlight as the Falcon sped through space. He could see the giant, delicious cupcake hovering in the distance. His little tongue watered, and he was suddenly hungry. It must be a trap! Ignoring the growing growls in his stomach, he gripped the steering lever with his paws. The Falcon banked.

President Socks became visible. His tuxedo fur looked unkept and shabby. MewMew drew a deep breath. He could almost taste the catnip burning through the Falcon’s fuel banks. I want that cupcake! Look at it! It’s so delicious and…cupcake! He shook his head and floored the Falcon’s catnip pedal. Shock greeted him in the distance, for President Socks was being held captive by…by…MewMew’s eyes widened.

THE RED DOT.

Just close your eyes, grab the president, and get out! As long as he didn’t look…Oh, the joy of finally capturing that elusive red-NO! He banked the Falcon again. The giant cupcake started spinning, as if trying to get his attention.

PEW PEW! Two hairballs shot out from beneath the Falcon’s left wing. Beautiful cupcake…gone. He had used his fighter’s miniature can opener of hairball doom. President Socks hissed. He’s stuck! MewMew brought his fighter closer. Ignore the red dot. Ignore the red dot!

“Initiate scratching post maneuver!” The Falcon vibrated as several gears shuddered below him. He watched as a slender pole with white carpet on it extended from the right wing. The President latched on, his golden space helmet glittering in the starlight.

Captain MewMew was once again Catopia’s hero.