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Post by Norris on Aug 5, 2008 5:55:07 GMT -5
Glad you liked it, MC. ;D I was a little worried about the bible-camp, though. I wanted to parody how over-the-top they are, particularly after what Jesus Camp had shown, but I was worried that conservative Christians would take offence.
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Post by sonicheroes4ever on Aug 5, 2008 17:12:41 GMT -5
Well, now we know the fate of Brian.
I had a feeling these stories would start connecting to each other. I got that feeling when you mentioned a particular town in a couple of the stories.
good job
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Post by Norris on Aug 5, 2008 23:53:58 GMT -5
Thanks, Sonic. I guess that's where R.L. Stine and I are different. His connections between Goosebumps are just sequels to other books, I wanted mine to feel a little more unified.
I'll get The Git Next Door posted up later today.
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Post by Norris on Aug 6, 2008 5:02:09 GMT -5
Remain aloof - you're in for a spoof!
Mooserumps Book 10 - The Git Next Door
(Parody of: The Ghost Next Door)
"Welcome to Bledsoe, kids!" Dad cheered as we pulled up to our new home in Bledsoe, New York. Little Jimmy had his face pressed up to the window, smothering it with goat dribble. My older brother George was leering out of his window at some of the local girls as we passed by, whilst my parents were taking in the sights of this small town.
And then there was me, Ruth Tiles, the middle-kid with nothing very interesting to say. I'd left all of my friends behind in Montana when we moved, including my new boyfriend, who I'd been only dating for a week! One minute, I'm close to getting a peep at the legendary you-know-what to see if the rumours about it were true, and the next minute, I'm being carted off to a town famous for making cottage cheese! Life's never fair on middle-kids, is it?
I helped to unpack without a word, still cross at my parents from tearing me away from my home in Clawmark County, whilst Jimmy slept in one of the armchairs and George changed between unpacking and leering. Lucky sod! At first, it looked as though Bledsoe was populated only by girls - which is OK if you want to keep up with things - but where were the guys? Either I was going to have to spend more time in school than I thought, or I was going to resort to lesbianism.
But then, I saw him! Living right next door to us was the boy of my dreams! I saw him looking at us through an open window. A tall and handsome Coati with muscles bigger than our car. I waved to him, and he winked at me! My heart was all aflutter that I fainted there and then, with a box of books winding me in the chest.
"Ruth, are you OK?" I heard Mom calling. I saw that Mom and Dad were leaning over me, and had taken the box off my chest. I sat up, and looked at them both with a smile across my lips.
"Mom, I think I'm in love!" I sighed. "There's a really cute guy living next door... so much better looking than Dave!"
"That's my little girl!" Dad ruffled my hair, ruining it. "You're making friends already, sweetheart!"
After that, I helped with as much unpacking as I could so that I could meet our new neighbour. Once it was all done, I rushed over to the house and knocked on the door, which suddenly fell down as I touched it. Inside, the house was a big mess. The walls were pitch black and riddled with damp, whilst the floor was covered in debris and rubble from the roof, which had a great big hole in it. No sign of the hunky Coati at all.
I went back home puzzled. What was such a really cute guy doing living in a shack like that? I remained quiet at dinner as I usually did, whilst Mom spoon-fed Jimmy and George bragged to Dad about how many girls had noticed him since they came to Bledsoe. I didn't take much notice, because my mind was still on the Coati. I wanted to find out who he was, and if he returned my love at all.
That night, I heard a mumbling noise from outside. I opened my window, and saw a light flickering from next door. There were shadows being reflected by the light, but still no sign of my dream-boyfriend. Because our new home was a bungalow, I just rolled open my window and snuck out towards next door. I peered inside, and I noticed that an armchair that wasn't there before was on fire!
Panicking, I rushed through the open door to try and alert my man, but when I came in through the door, the burning armchair was gone! No light, no movement, just the same wrecked shell of a house that I'd seen earlier. And what was worse, no hunky Coati.
The next morning, I decided to speak to our other neighbour about the house. He was an old badger who looked like a character out of a silent movie. When I met him, he was mowing the lawn with an old push-mower. I told him about the Coati and the burned-out house, and he just gave a wheezy laugh that sounded like George when he tried to play the tuba.
"Sounds like you've seen a ghost, little lady!" Mr. Badger grinned, straightening his cap. "About 10 years ago, this couple had to go and visit a sick relative out in Conneticut, so they left their son behind to mind the house. He were a good boy, really, but a little clumsy. One night, the electricity mains for Bledsoe went out, and young Hank (that's the Coati's name) tried to light an old paraffin lamp...and burned the house down with him inside,"
COMING SOON: Mooserumps Book 11 - The Haunted Musk
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Post by sonicheroes4ever on Aug 6, 2008 13:51:55 GMT -5
Nice, ghost boyfriend. Good job.
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Post by Norris on Aug 6, 2008 23:38:30 GMT -5
Thanks very much. Book 11 coming soon!
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Post by Norris on Aug 7, 2008 5:20:14 GMT -5
Remain aloof - you're in for a spoof!
Mooserumps Book 11 - The Haunted Musk
(Parody of: The Haunted Mask)
Mom never let me wear any perfume when I was younger, which upset me a little because all the other girls wore perfume at that age, but my Mom always told me that perfume was for older girls, and that I'd have to wait until I was 10 before I could wear any perfume myself.
Well, on my 10th birthday, I decided to use my birthday money to buy myself some very special perfume that none of the other girls at Redpelt Elementary ever had. But in a town like Redpelt, Alabama, that's easier said than done. Just a line of wooden houses with shotgun-yielding hillbillies on every porch. The only store in town, the Rawlins place, sold nothing except food, bullets and tobacco.
Still, I was a determined little cat, and not at all like the women I would later become. Instead of being a sexual predator with stockings more expensive than a Toyota, I was a young kitten with $10 in my pocket and blue ribbons in my ponytails. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find anybody who sold perfume, because all the girls got their perfume from Montgomery, and my parents never went as far as the edge of town.
Feeling rejected, I made my way home feeling rejected, when I noticed a little shop that was pretty new to me. It was an old, one-floor building that looked like a converted toolshed. A wooden sign above the door read: R. SLIME - CURIOS. Back then, I didn't know what a curio was, so I went in and had a look around. The tiny shop was stocked with every kind of perfume and aftershave you could think of! I gazed through the assorted bottles with a feeling of euphoria deep in my bosom.
Among the shelves, I saw a huge glass bottle of clear liquid. It was labelled: Midnight Musk - $5, and I instantly knew that that was the perfume for me - how stupid I was back then before I joined Knockup Enterprises - and I popped it on the counter, ringing for assistance. From a backroom came a sly-looking fox called Mr. Slime, who gave a little grin as he handed me my change.
"I see you've got a fine taste in perfume, little girl," he grinned in a velvety voice, handing over the $5 note. "I think you'll find Midnight Musk a very attractive odour," I didn't answer, but I just gave a smile back, and headed home with the bottle of perfume tucked under my arm.
When I got home, I put the musk down, and left it there until the next morning, when I put some on before going to school, eager to impress my friends with my new odour. That Mr. Slime had been right, because nearly every boy in school came to me like a magnet, and left the other girls blushing with embarrassment, and trying desperately to find out about Midnight Musk by phoning their parents on their cellphones.
I felt like the Queen of the School that day, being waited on hand and foot by all of the guys, and having the girls fawning over my secret. It was bliss, but my dream was shattered when I got home. I went to have a shower, but the musk wouldn't come off. Not that it was a bad thing, I thought, and ignored it. But when I went to bed, I couldn't sleep. At midnight, my whole body felt like it was in a really tight wetsuit, even though it wasn't. It was as if the Midnight Musk had taken control of my body!
Against my will, I found myself walking out of the house - my cries and attempts to stop being foiled by the control of the Musk - and towards a deserted railroad crossing on the edge of town, where the Musk halted me in the middle of the crossing. I tried to free myself, but it was no good. I was stuck! My heart beat faster when the crossing bells rang, and I could hear a train approaching in the distance. I was going to die! I tried to move again, but nothing. The Musk wouldn't budge. I felt sweat dripping down my back as the train came into view, heading towards me...
I don't know how I survived that night, but at the last minute, the perfume released me, and I was able to get myself clear just seconds before the train came along. I was sweating like a pig, but I was glad that I was safe.
I got rid of the Midnight Musk by dumping it on the next pickup out of town. Mr. Slime's shop had disappeared overnight, but I didn't care. I'd learned that trying to be part of the crowd sometimes wasn't the best idea, and that's why I'm now a CEO in a successful magazine business with men on hand to perform my every whim. If one good thing happened all those years ago, it's that Midnight Musk pointed me in the right direction, even if it had tried to kill me.
COMING SOON - Mooserumps Book 12A: Be Careful What You Wash For...
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Post by sonicheroes4ever on Aug 7, 2008 22:31:07 GMT -5
Mr. Slime gets around, doesn't he? Good work.
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Post by Norris on Aug 8, 2008 0:03:56 GMT -5
Thanks. It's not as good as the others, I admit, but it's something. I was trying to use R. Slime to connect my stories up just like the Blood Order, but he hasn't done very much lately. I actually based him on the villain in Stephen King's Needful Things, being a travelling salesman who brings nothing but misery to his customers, hiding his evil form inside a polite and courteous shell. Before I post up the next stories, I want you to take note that I've numbered them 12A and 12B. Being a superstitious idiot, I thought it would be unlucky to have a Book 13, so I replaced it with the number 12B.
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Post by Norris on Aug 8, 2008 23:59:08 GMT -5
Unfortunately, the automatic sensor has screwed this up. The character's name is meant to be D*ck Rising, but the filter's ruined it.
Remain aloof - you're in for a spoof!
Mooserumps Book 12A - Be Careful What You Wash For...
(Parody of: Be Careful What You Wish For...)
[penis] Rising was a puma with a life about as exciting as a digital lawnmower. His hometown of Tailtip, Arkansas had about as much prominence as a half-bent paperclip, and the inhabitants all looked like extras out of Night of the Nearly Dead.
And here was poor old ****, a hotblooded young boy who wanted a taste of the playboy circuit, but all he got was to provide the tokens in his mother's laundrette. It was a rotten old place, with only one customer who ever came around, and that was some smelly old lady who spoke in tongues and lived with 36 cats. Every time she came to the laundrette, it was like the paint had peeled off another inch.
But on a rather horrid day in July, when it rained like hell, [penis] decided to try and make things exciting by checking out the basement. His parents always tried to deter [penis] from going down, and as [penis] was in desperate need of entertainment, he sneaked down the creaking steps and into the darkness, only to find...
Absolutely nothing. No creepy, bug-eyed monsters. No horrible vampires sleeping in their coffins. And not even a cringeworthy bout of educational television. All there was was his parent's personal washing machine and spin-dryer, and a shelf of old tins and pots. On top of the washing machine was a thin box of something that wasn't riddled with damp like the other stuff. [penis] picked it up and read the box's front:
SUDSO WASHING POWDER - NO. 1 FOR WHITER-THAN-WHITE LAUNDRY
"As I thought," [penis] grumbled, glad to have a bit of dialogue at long last. "Some more crap Mom's been hiding from everyone else," All the customer(s) had was Corrugated Soap Flakes for her/their laundry, and all that ever seemed to do was take the colour out of everything and make the clothes smell like disinfectant. Seeing as ****'s boredom was reaching critical, he decided that the only thing to do was see what this one did.
Removing his shirt, pants, underwear and socks, [penis] stood in the nude as he put his clothes in the machine and added the flakes. Then, whilst he stood in his shoes wondering what kind of horror story takes place in a laundrette, the plot actually came to life! The machine began to sputter and moan, and the door burst open like a bullet from a gun. A big, monstrous hand made entirely from bubbles burst forth and tried to grab the naked puma!
[penis] ran upstairs, and watched with horror as an ugly little something crawled out of the washing machine. It was some kind of gnome made out of soap-suds! It chased [penis] out of the laundrette and down the high street of Tailtip, grunting and hollering after him. The few yokels who were shocked to see [penis] running around au naturelle were shocked even further by the monster that came after him.
It was only a few seconds before [penis] found himself trapped at the end of an alley, with the Soap Monster closing in. [penis] used his last line of defence to protect himself by throwing a can of garbage at the creature. At the touch of that slimy garbage-water, the Soap Monster began to melt in a cloud of hissing steam. The garbage had cancelled out the soapy effect of the Monster, and [penis] was free.
Or so he would have been, if he hadn't been arrested for indecent exposure a few minutes afterward.
COMING SOON: Mooserumps Book 12B - Porno Sessions Can Be Murder
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Post by sonicheroes4ever on Aug 9, 2008 0:52:57 GMT -5
"...as [penis] was in desperate need of entertainment..."
Out of context this seems dirty.
This story was better than the last one.
Hmm, it seems wrong to censor ****'. If need be, you could change it to Richard.
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Post by wildgoose on Aug 9, 2008 17:19:52 GMT -5
man these censors are anoying...
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Post by Norris on Aug 15, 2008 5:18:30 GMT -5
Glad you liked it, but I was trying to think of funny-sounding names that weren't too worn out like Gale Force or Orson Cart.
Anyway, I must tell you that my internet connection is on the fritx right now, so it'll be a while before I'm back online proper. It's only thanks to Mom that I'm able to get this message to you, so for the next few days, Mooserumps will be on a temporary sabbatical.
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Post by Norris on Aug 29, 2008 8:57:49 GMT -5
OK, I'm back online! I'll have Mooserumps 12B up tomorrow, as I've got quite a lot of catching up to do. Modem wouldn't work for a full three weeks, so I've been out of action for a good long while.
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Post by Norris on Aug 29, 2008 13:35:34 GMT -5
Remain aloof - you're in for a spoof!
Mooserumps Book 12B - Porno Sessions Can Be Murder
(Parody of: Piano Lessons Can Be Murder)
Rita Bennett was one of the most fliratious of fruitbats in all of Tongue-in-Cheek, Minnesota. From the moment she'd reached puberty, Rita had gained notoriety for being one of the most active lovers since Emmanuelle, and her name in Tongue-in-Cheek had become a byword for decadence and all other sort of names not suitable for a crummy children's book like this one.
For about a month or so, Rita had been working in a sleazy porn studio outside of town, and she'd been a godsend to the small group of perverts who ran it. Previously, nearly all of their work had been done by a sapient sex-doll, who'd since moved away to Missouri after her paycheck bounced. For that month, things had gone well for Rita. Her work was pleasant enough, the pill was still working, and the little light still worked when she opened the door of her refridgerator. But tonight, her life of sleaze was about to turn upside down...
"OK, cut!" the director grinned that evening. They'd just been shooting the next movie, Back-Seat B***ers, and it was time to call it a day. But Rita felt like going on, and urged the crew to stay behind. Her idea brought stony looks from the crew that reminded Rita of the Easter Island statues. The Director turned and harshly told her it was out of the question.
"But, Mr. Schwarzundbraunundgrunundgeldenegger..." Rita whined, her hormones still out of control, but the director ignored her, leaving the studio with the others. Rita was now alone, wondering why the crew were so keen to leave. But still, the idea of having the studio all to herself appealed greatly to the 20-year-old seductress, and she began to wander around the grotty little buildings that made up the studio. The crew had been in such a hurry to leave that they hadn't locked up, which Rita thought to be very odd indeed.
And then, she heard it.
From out of the woods, there came the sound of heavy, slow footsteps approaching the studio. At first, Rita thought it was probably just some campers passing through, but when an axe embedded itself in a tree just inches from Rita's head, she knew that this guy meant business.
Rushing back into the main building, Rita barricaded it up with some of the lighting rigs that lay around. Once this was done, Rita fled to the other end of the studio, looking for a way out whilst the intruder tried to break down the door. There was no way out. She was trapped.
The lighting rigs fell away, and the intruder stood at full height, staring at the terrified Rita with icy-blue eyes, and a sickening smile across his face that displayed an array of pearly-white teeth.
"Hello," he spoke in an unusually camp voice. "I'd like to talk to you about my God, and how with personal guidance, He could help you find a happier life..."
How Rita came out of it, nobody could say. A visit by the Jehovah's Witnesses left few alive. Whatever happened that night, Rita kept to herself, but she was never the same woman again, having left Tongue-in-Cheek, never to return to the town where her soul almost died.
COMING SOON: Mooserumps Book 14 - The Weirdo of Flipper Swamp
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