Categories > Books > Eragon > PARODY NUMBER 2005: ERAGON!
The Finding of the Shiny Squishy
8 reviewsEragon's slow? Brom's schizophrenic? The Urgals breaking out into song? Must mean INMH is doing another Parody!
5Funny
2005
And now we meet Eragon. Expect more musical numbers, kiddies. If not in this chapter, then somewhere else.
Disclaimer: If you still think I own anything, then you didn't get yourself that psychiatric evaluation, did you? I don't own Eragon, Spongebob Squarepants (There's one line in here you may recognize from it), Lord of the Rings, McDonalds (The one thing I'm glad I don't own), Smoky the Bear, Finding Nemo, OR ANYTHING ELSE YOU RECOGNIZE!
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"Oh I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay! I sleep all night an' I work all day! I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I like to press wild flowers! I put on women's clothing, and hang around in bars!" A young, mentally disturbed teenager named Eragon sang. He was supposed to be hunting deer in a place called "The Spine", but his atrocious singing was scaring them all away. What a simple, simple boy. Simple, simple, simple boy.
A pack of deer rested at the edge of the forest, and Eragon grinned. "Be vewy, vewy quiet. I'm hunting deeeeeeeeeeeers." He drawled. "HERE DEERY, DEERY, DEERY!" He shrieked at the deer. "COME SEE UNCLE ERAGON!" Now, something must be made quite clear. Wild animals are born with survival instincts. Especially deer. It's how they've lasted through the years.
And when a strange, clearly insane fifteen year old starts shrieking and calling to the deer, nature takes it's course. The women and children run, while the males get their kicks. Literally. A large buck glared dangerously at Eragon who, being the simple, simple boy that he was, continued to shriek and wave, even when it was clearly angering the male deer. And what do males, of any race, animal or human, do when they are angered?
Why, they attack of course.
And so, the buck charged full on at Eragon. If it has not become clear yet, Eragon was not the brightest crayon in the box. He did not move, and quickly paid for his foolish action when the deer skewered him on his large antlers. Since Eragon is, however slow, the hero of our story, he cannot die yet. Note the keyword- yet.
Before the buck rejoined his herd, he did something of an Irish jig on Eragon's torso. For Eragon, it was quite painful having his heart, spleen, stomach, liver and spine crushed by an angry buck. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Oooooow, ow. Ouch. Ow. Pain. Agony. Torture. Torment. Three hours of Teletubbies. You can stop now." The buck eyed him coldly. He pounded his hooves into Eragon's ribcage a bit more, and then promptly stomped off.
There was silence for a moment.
"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow." Eragon mumbled. For a few seconds, to win some sympathy, he lay in agony. When he then realized that there was no one around to get sympathy from, he sprung up from the ground like an annoying little bunny, and said: "Well, now that my horrific incident of terror is over, time to-"
KA-BOOM!
There was suddenly a really, really, really big explosion. As in, Lord-Elrond-catching-Aragorn-making-out-with-his-foster-sister explosion. Only without the yelling. And the cursing. And the sharp, pointy objects being hurled at Eragon's head. Okay, so this explosion was a bit safer than the afore-mentioned one. But at least it had fire!
A small, lone spark jumped up, dodged through the trees, and landed on Eragon's cloak. The teenager instantly went up in flames. But again, because of him being the hero, when the fire died down, he stood unharmed. Since Eragon is still a few fries short of a Happy Meal, the first thing that came to mind when he looked around was- "Where's Smoky the Bear when you need him?"
Unbeknownst to Eragon, the Bear in question was currently out cold somewhere, presumably near Surda, with a broken nose. But that information would become apparent later. Eragon now found himself looking at a large, smooth blue stone with white veins in it. "Oooooooooooooooh..." Eragon crooned, picking up the stone. His eyes widened like an Anime characters do when they see something cute. "Shiiiiiiiiiny..." Eragon said.
Somehow, the explosion must have addled Eragon's senses (Or perhaps he's just not the fastest horse on the race track), because another goofy grin appeared on his face, and he hugged the stone tight. "You are mine, and I shall call you squishy. You are my squishy now!" He said. Above him, in the trees, small woodland creatures (namely squirrels) observed the scene with wonder.
"Chitterchitterchitterchitchit!" One Squirrel said to the other. Roughly translated, his chittering meant "The bunnies multiply at Wal-Mart at Midnight." But it is assumed that he was asking about the strange boy. The other Squirrel shrugged, and pulled an acorn off the tree, shaking it towards the first. The first Squirrel followed its lead, and pulled an acorn down. They grinned evil little grins at each other, and promptly pelted the acorns at Eragon.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Eragon howled. "KILLER SQUIRRELS! KILLER SQUIRRELS!" He then proceeded to run at top speed, screaming at the top of his lungs about killer squirrels, out of the Spine. The squirrels laughed evilly, revealing ugly looking teeth (Author's note: If you've seen Courage the Cowardly dog, you know what that laugh is).
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Eragon continued to run for his life, still screaming about Squirrels, all the way back to Carvahall. He went bolting through the village, stone clutched to his chest, and passed several people on the way. They sighed when he shrieked that "The killer squirrels will kill us with nuts! Nuts I tell you! Nuts!"
"Eragon's back," Albriech, son of Horst the Blacksmith, muttered. Eragon, undeterred, kept running until he slammed into the door of the butcher's shop, face first. Several people winced in sympathy as Eragon twitched, slid down the door and landed on the ground with a muffled thump.
"Boy's still a few bricks short of a wall, isn't he?" A man named Quimby murmured. No one disputed this. Eragon, who had just recovered from slamming into a thick door at sixty miles an hour, stood up and went inside. Unfortunately, his foot caught the doorstop and Eragon, yet again, went falling flat on his face. "'M okay!" He called in a muffled voice.
When the teenager had gotten himself upright again, he found himself face-to-face with Sloan, the butcher. Sloan was not fond of Eragon. In fact, he prayed daily that the boy would be torn to annoying little pieces by Shruikan the Dragon. But Eragon, who was still a few flowers short of an arrangement, failed to notice Sloan's "I'll-rip-you-to-pieces-and-devour-your-spleen" look and grinned stupidly at him.
"HIYA SLOANY-BOY!" He crowed, slamming the stone on Sloan's counter. Sloan pulled up one of his butcher knives and held it, tip first, in Eragon's face. He examined the knife, and then muttered: "My, what sharp, shiny knives you have." His eyes glazed over. "Shiny..." Sloan rolled his eyes and pulled the knife away. The boy was too stupid to realize when he was being threatened.
"What do you want, you brain-dead otter?" He grumbled. Eragon's disgustingly wide and happy grin, if possible, widened.
"I want you to meet my squishy!" He said, pointing to the egg. Sloan raised an eyebrow at this.
"Your... squishy?" He repeated. Eragon nodded, the whimsical grin never faltering. "Where'd you get it?"
"The Spine!" Eragon said, his head bobbling up and down like an excited puppy. Sloan went rigid, and his left eye twitched. It was a well-known fact that he was about as fond of the Spine as he was of Eragon. Which was saying something.
Now, as it has been said before, Eragon was about as sharp as a beach ball. He was about as quick as a corpse. His receiver was off the hook. The lights were on, but no one had been home for a very long time. He was an idiot.
So, when Sloan began to foam at the mouth, Eragon simply wondered if he had accidentally swallowed some shaving cream. "THE-" Sloan hissed. "-SPINE?" Eragon cocked his head to the side.
"Yeah? Didn't you hear me?"
"ARRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Sloan went nuts. He jumped onto the counter on all four legs, and let out another howl. Eragon quietly grabbed his "Squishy", and leaned back a bit when Sloan started shrieking. "SPINE! SPINE! SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!"
"Maybe the Spine is bad luck," Eragon murmured, the rhapsodic smile gone from his face as he watched Sloan freak out apprehensively. Slowly, he backed to the door, and quietly backed out. The citizens of Carvahall winced when they heard the howling, and looked to Eragon.
"Aye," Horst said. "You said the 'S' word in front of him again, didn't you?" Eragon winced.
"Sorry," He muttered. Horst shrugged.
"Ah well. Now we just have to get him to take his meds." Behind Horst, Eragon saw a large syringe being unloaded off a cart with some strange liquid in it.
"Well... I'd better be getting home. Garrow'll be expecting me." As he walked away, there were distinct sounds of someone (presumably Sloan) howling, and then cries of "HOLD 'EM DOWN! DON'T LET 'EM BITE YOU IF YOU HAVEN'T HAD YOUR SHOTS!" which were, presumably, from Horst. Eragon reminded himself to check if anyone had rabies next time he came to town.
And now we meet Eragon. Expect more musical numbers, kiddies. If not in this chapter, then somewhere else.
Disclaimer: If you still think I own anything, then you didn't get yourself that psychiatric evaluation, did you? I don't own Eragon, Spongebob Squarepants (There's one line in here you may recognize from it), Lord of the Rings, McDonalds (The one thing I'm glad I don't own), Smoky the Bear, Finding Nemo, OR ANYTHING ELSE YOU RECOGNIZE!
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"Oh I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay! I sleep all night an' I work all day! I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I like to press wild flowers! I put on women's clothing, and hang around in bars!" A young, mentally disturbed teenager named Eragon sang. He was supposed to be hunting deer in a place called "The Spine", but his atrocious singing was scaring them all away. What a simple, simple boy. Simple, simple, simple boy.
A pack of deer rested at the edge of the forest, and Eragon grinned. "Be vewy, vewy quiet. I'm hunting deeeeeeeeeeeers." He drawled. "HERE DEERY, DEERY, DEERY!" He shrieked at the deer. "COME SEE UNCLE ERAGON!" Now, something must be made quite clear. Wild animals are born with survival instincts. Especially deer. It's how they've lasted through the years.
And when a strange, clearly insane fifteen year old starts shrieking and calling to the deer, nature takes it's course. The women and children run, while the males get their kicks. Literally. A large buck glared dangerously at Eragon who, being the simple, simple boy that he was, continued to shriek and wave, even when it was clearly angering the male deer. And what do males, of any race, animal or human, do when they are angered?
Why, they attack of course.
And so, the buck charged full on at Eragon. If it has not become clear yet, Eragon was not the brightest crayon in the box. He did not move, and quickly paid for his foolish action when the deer skewered him on his large antlers. Since Eragon is, however slow, the hero of our story, he cannot die yet. Note the keyword- yet.
Before the buck rejoined his herd, he did something of an Irish jig on Eragon's torso. For Eragon, it was quite painful having his heart, spleen, stomach, liver and spine crushed by an angry buck. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Oooooow, ow. Ouch. Ow. Pain. Agony. Torture. Torment. Three hours of Teletubbies. You can stop now." The buck eyed him coldly. He pounded his hooves into Eragon's ribcage a bit more, and then promptly stomped off.
There was silence for a moment.
"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow." Eragon mumbled. For a few seconds, to win some sympathy, he lay in agony. When he then realized that there was no one around to get sympathy from, he sprung up from the ground like an annoying little bunny, and said: "Well, now that my horrific incident of terror is over, time to-"
KA-BOOM!
There was suddenly a really, really, really big explosion. As in, Lord-Elrond-catching-Aragorn-making-out-with-his-foster-sister explosion. Only without the yelling. And the cursing. And the sharp, pointy objects being hurled at Eragon's head. Okay, so this explosion was a bit safer than the afore-mentioned one. But at least it had fire!
A small, lone spark jumped up, dodged through the trees, and landed on Eragon's cloak. The teenager instantly went up in flames. But again, because of him being the hero, when the fire died down, he stood unharmed. Since Eragon is still a few fries short of a Happy Meal, the first thing that came to mind when he looked around was- "Where's Smoky the Bear when you need him?"
Unbeknownst to Eragon, the Bear in question was currently out cold somewhere, presumably near Surda, with a broken nose. But that information would become apparent later. Eragon now found himself looking at a large, smooth blue stone with white veins in it. "Oooooooooooooooh..." Eragon crooned, picking up the stone. His eyes widened like an Anime characters do when they see something cute. "Shiiiiiiiiiny..." Eragon said.
Somehow, the explosion must have addled Eragon's senses (Or perhaps he's just not the fastest horse on the race track), because another goofy grin appeared on his face, and he hugged the stone tight. "You are mine, and I shall call you squishy. You are my squishy now!" He said. Above him, in the trees, small woodland creatures (namely squirrels) observed the scene with wonder.
"Chitterchitterchitterchitchit!" One Squirrel said to the other. Roughly translated, his chittering meant "The bunnies multiply at Wal-Mart at Midnight." But it is assumed that he was asking about the strange boy. The other Squirrel shrugged, and pulled an acorn off the tree, shaking it towards the first. The first Squirrel followed its lead, and pulled an acorn down. They grinned evil little grins at each other, and promptly pelted the acorns at Eragon.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Eragon howled. "KILLER SQUIRRELS! KILLER SQUIRRELS!" He then proceeded to run at top speed, screaming at the top of his lungs about killer squirrels, out of the Spine. The squirrels laughed evilly, revealing ugly looking teeth (Author's note: If you've seen Courage the Cowardly dog, you know what that laugh is).
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Eragon continued to run for his life, still screaming about Squirrels, all the way back to Carvahall. He went bolting through the village, stone clutched to his chest, and passed several people on the way. They sighed when he shrieked that "The killer squirrels will kill us with nuts! Nuts I tell you! Nuts!"
"Eragon's back," Albriech, son of Horst the Blacksmith, muttered. Eragon, undeterred, kept running until he slammed into the door of the butcher's shop, face first. Several people winced in sympathy as Eragon twitched, slid down the door and landed on the ground with a muffled thump.
"Boy's still a few bricks short of a wall, isn't he?" A man named Quimby murmured. No one disputed this. Eragon, who had just recovered from slamming into a thick door at sixty miles an hour, stood up and went inside. Unfortunately, his foot caught the doorstop and Eragon, yet again, went falling flat on his face. "'M okay!" He called in a muffled voice.
When the teenager had gotten himself upright again, he found himself face-to-face with Sloan, the butcher. Sloan was not fond of Eragon. In fact, he prayed daily that the boy would be torn to annoying little pieces by Shruikan the Dragon. But Eragon, who was still a few flowers short of an arrangement, failed to notice Sloan's "I'll-rip-you-to-pieces-and-devour-your-spleen" look and grinned stupidly at him.
"HIYA SLOANY-BOY!" He crowed, slamming the stone on Sloan's counter. Sloan pulled up one of his butcher knives and held it, tip first, in Eragon's face. He examined the knife, and then muttered: "My, what sharp, shiny knives you have." His eyes glazed over. "Shiny..." Sloan rolled his eyes and pulled the knife away. The boy was too stupid to realize when he was being threatened.
"What do you want, you brain-dead otter?" He grumbled. Eragon's disgustingly wide and happy grin, if possible, widened.
"I want you to meet my squishy!" He said, pointing to the egg. Sloan raised an eyebrow at this.
"Your... squishy?" He repeated. Eragon nodded, the whimsical grin never faltering. "Where'd you get it?"
"The Spine!" Eragon said, his head bobbling up and down like an excited puppy. Sloan went rigid, and his left eye twitched. It was a well-known fact that he was about as fond of the Spine as he was of Eragon. Which was saying something.
Now, as it has been said before, Eragon was about as sharp as a beach ball. He was about as quick as a corpse. His receiver was off the hook. The lights were on, but no one had been home for a very long time. He was an idiot.
So, when Sloan began to foam at the mouth, Eragon simply wondered if he had accidentally swallowed some shaving cream. "THE-" Sloan hissed. "-SPINE?" Eragon cocked his head to the side.
"Yeah? Didn't you hear me?"
"ARRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Sloan went nuts. He jumped onto the counter on all four legs, and let out another howl. Eragon quietly grabbed his "Squishy", and leaned back a bit when Sloan started shrieking. "SPINE! SPINE! SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!"
"Maybe the Spine is bad luck," Eragon murmured, the rhapsodic smile gone from his face as he watched Sloan freak out apprehensively. Slowly, he backed to the door, and quietly backed out. The citizens of Carvahall winced when they heard the howling, and looked to Eragon.
"Aye," Horst said. "You said the 'S' word in front of him again, didn't you?" Eragon winced.
"Sorry," He muttered. Horst shrugged.
"Ah well. Now we just have to get him to take his meds." Behind Horst, Eragon saw a large syringe being unloaded off a cart with some strange liquid in it.
"Well... I'd better be getting home. Garrow'll be expecting me." As he walked away, there were distinct sounds of someone (presumably Sloan) howling, and then cries of "HOLD 'EM DOWN! DON'T LET 'EM BITE YOU IF YOU HAVEN'T HAD YOUR SHOTS!" which were, presumably, from Horst. Eragon reminded himself to check if anyone had rabies next time he came to town.
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