1. Welcome to Christian Forums, a forum to discuss Christianity in a friendly surrounding.

    Your voice is missing! You will need to register to get access to the following site features:
    • Reply to discussions and create your own threads.
    • Our modern chat room. No add-ons or extensions required, just login and start chatting!
    • Private Member only forums for more serious discussions that you may wish to not have guests or search engines access to.
    • Your very own blog. Write about anything you like on your own individual blog.

    We hope to see you as a part of our community soon and God Bless!

  2. We are holding our 2022 Angel Ministry Drive now. Please consider signing up, or if you have any questions about being an Angel, use our staff application form. The world needs more prayer now, and it is a great way to help other members of the forums. :) To Apply...click here

Misadventures of Sir Hector Grubley

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by sampson x, Nov 14, 2005.

  1. sampson x

    sampson x Supreme Commander of the Paralytic Army

    +85
    Anabaptist
    Single
    The sun was shining down in one of those perfectly awful ways that makes one squint and raise one's hand and wish one was not in the sun at all but rather under a nice roof of a small pub alongside the road drinking a good ale having a perfectly wonderful time knowing one was not out in the perfectly awful sun. This was precisely what Sir Hector Grubley was doing. He was also having a good time laughing at all the poor souls who had to endure the hot, aggravating, Polish sun.

    Hector flashed out his hand, and somehow managed to squeeze out, "Another one for this poor soul!"

    The bartender flashed a wide, loving smile as he trotted over to get another drink for Hector, not because he actually liked Sir Hector but rather the large bill that he was racking up. The bartender didn't usually get business like this. He ran a small, simple pub alongside the road; he never had more than a few customers in at a time and was just barely supporting his wife and three children at home. The bartender was an interesting man who led an interesting, though simple, life. His name is Elliot, and he'd be a wonderful subject for someone to write a deep, entertaining, and all around awesome novel about. These, his name and his life, however, are entirely irrelevent as he will have almost no impact on this story whatsoever.

    Sir Hector reached out his gleaming hand and snatched the mug from Elliot's outstretched arms and downed it. He could feel the burning liquid slide down his throat. He even imagined it entering his stomach and thought about rubbing it. That, however, would have looked quite odd, especially because his stomach was currently covered by Hector's plate steel armor. Remembering this made Hector only want to buy more drinks.

    I will drink until I remember no more. Hector thought to himself, I will drink until I forget.

    The reader may be wondering what it was Hector was trying to forget. If it had been mentioned, the reader would at this point be called a blundering idiot. The reader will not be called a blundering idiot, however, because the thing Hector was trying to forget has not been mentioned yet. It will be mentioned now, though.

    Hector had just received a message directly from King Barbarossa that he had been relieved of his knightly duties. The message went on to mention why, but that will eventually become quite obvious, and so no effort will be made at this point to clarify that issue.

    Now, if the reader still does not understand what Hector was trying to forget, he shall be deamed a blundering idiot.

    It may also be of interest as to why Sir Hector Grubley still has his title in his name. That, however, will not be discussed at all and left to the discretion of the reader. Perhaps it will make a great debate in some English classroom someday.

    And so, Sir Hector Grubley continued to order ale. He also continued to laugh at the peasants in the hot sun as this helped him forget his troubles. He also, by way of such obvious logic that it should not even need to be mentioned, continued to fall more and more into a drunkard state until finally it wouldn't have mattered whether he was out in the hot, aggravating sun or in the pub; he fainted.
     
  2. sampson x

    sampson x Supreme Commander of the Paralytic Army

    +85
    Anabaptist
    Single
    The doors to the bar swung open with a slight creaking noise that confused a few poor female crickets nearby. In the open doorway stood a mysterious, dark figure. The short, scrawny man stood there a second with his hands near his pockets. In his left hand he held a pointed, wooden walking stick at such an angle that one might think he would pick it up and throw it at any second. His penetrating eyes scanned the bar, looking each occupant in the eyes at least once. Each occupant, that was, except Sir Hector, who remained in a quite knocked-out fainted state.

    After a few seconds, the mysterious man shot his glance forward as if something he had seen satisfied him. With a purposeful stride, the man traversed the small table area and was soon hovering over Sir Hector. He turned his gaze to the bartender and shot out, "Is this 'ere man causing you any trouble?"

    Elliot stammered a bit, then realized that he didn't know what to say. He'd never seen anyone act like this before, and he certainly wasn't in any mood to confront it now. He had searched Sir Hector for the money to pay for his outrageous bill, but hadn't found any, "Umm, I am afraid that he has failed to pay for his bill, which is quite large."

    The mysterious man nodded slowly and methodically, "Well, then, I'll take him off your hands. There's this wonderful way of serving justice called lynching. I think I'll just take this debtor in to my own hands."

    The bartender just stared; he was confused because he had neither heard of lynching before nor did he have any idea how this puny man was going to carry the weight of Sir Hector, which was in no way lacking. The man took no notice of this, however, and pulled a out a lasso that had been attached to his belt. He took the looped side and fit it around Sir Hector's large frame; then took the other end and ran it outside to his horse that he had left outside. After attaching it to the horse, the man slapped the horses butt and screamed, "Yaw!"

    As Sir Hector's body was being dragged out of the bar, the man turned back to the stupefied occupants, "The name's Tullifer Dentmind, resident cowboy and administer of justice. Pleased to be of service." The drinkers just sat there and stared at the spectacle until they lost the shapes in the distance. A few shook their heads, and others began talking about what they had just seen, but most just ordered more drinks and tried to make everything go away.
     
  3. Megachihuahua

    Megachihuahua Ex-Christian

    +62
    Atheist
    Single
    US-Libertarian
    Nice. It's very chatty.
     
  4. sampson x

    sampson x Supreme Commander of the Paralytic Army

    +85
    Anabaptist
    Single
    (Oh, Hi Mega. Nice to see you. Is chatty good?)
     
  5. jesusfreak10537

    jesusfreak10537 So she dances...

    +160
    Non-Denom
    Single
    US-Republican
    That is absolutely hilarious! :) I love your writing style.
    Hurry, post some more!!!^_^
     
  6. sampson x

    sampson x Supreme Commander of the Paralytic Army

    +85
    Anabaptist
    Single
    Sir Hector began to get up, but then decided against it because of a monster headache he was experience. Sir Hector layed back down and tried to force himself to sleep. It was no easy task. The bed underneath him was as cold as stone and the blanket as thin as air. There also seemed to be a lot of people moaning in despair within a close proximity. Sir Hector groaned as he tried to turn over, but something clamped onto his legs prevented him from doing so; turning over that is, not groaning; prevented him from turning over, but did not hinder his groaning that is.

    Something's clamped to my leg! Wait! Bed cold as stone, blanket as thin as air! PEOPLE MOANING!

    Sir Hector's eyes shot open and the terrible truth was revealed to him. His bed was cold as stone because it was not a bed, but a stone floor! His blanket was as thin as air because it was air! Worst of all, the people were moaning because they were in a dungeon! Sir Hector's darting eyes caught a glimpse of his armor lying in a heap several feet away. Sir Hector could feel his blood start to pulse as he began to panick.

    He turned to the closest prisoner to him. The prisoner was a scrawny man with tattered clothes and an old wooden walking stick. His beady eyes and ruffled hair were a similar brown color, and both gave the impression was half crazy. This, of course, is half true and will be explained later. Sir Hector gaped at the man a second but recovered himself a small degree. "How did I get here?" Sir Hector rasped, putting his hand up to his head where a large bump had swollen and become very tender.

    The scrawny man just tilted his head and screwed up his face a bit, "I do not remember sir. Last thing I remember, these soldiers were taking you and me to this here dungeon under charges of theft or something. Other than that, I can't remember."

    Sir Hector's jaw dropped like a twenty pound bowling ball falling from the top of the Sears Tower. Neither the bowling ball nor the Sears Tower were in existence at the time, but the effect is still the same; Sir Hector's mouth was wide open, "I...I...I was arrested for burglary with you?! How?! I would nev..." Sir Hector stopped himself midsentence as he realized that he had robbed people in the past, but never with with this man. "Who were we robbing?"

    The other man continued to tilt his head, "I told you, I don't remember."

    "Don't remember! What do you mean you don't remember?!"

    "I could tell you why, but you probably still wouldn't understand."

    Sir Hector shook his head and rubbed his eyes; he was truly flabbergasted now, "Tell me why? There's a reason you don't remember?"

    At this, the man perked up a bit and untilted his head. A new light shone from his eyes, "Oh yes! A quite good one as well! You see, I'm polyegotistic."

    "Poleeg...what?! What in the world is that!"

    Suddenly, a small tremor overtook the prisoner, but it died away quickly. The man now wore a fake warm smile and spoke with a loud, overexpressive voice, "Did I hear you say you were interested in my Cook-o-matic 2000? Ah, the Cook-o-matic 2000, the most incredible kitchen appliance ever invented, and now it can be yours for only five easy payments of sixty-nine ninety-nine! That's right, and if you act now, I'll throw in this nine piece Forever-cut knife set! That's a three hundred dollar value all for only five easy payments of sixty-nine ninety-nine!"

    Then, all was silence. The prisoner sat there, his head slightly tilted and only the smallest smile crept to his lips. Sir Hector was a mess; this outburst had torn him quite to shreds mentally and emotionally. He had no idea what a Cook-o-matic 2000 was, or for that matter, what a kitchen appliance was. The thing that really got him, though, was the extreme change in the prisoner's personality. Sir Hector sat there in the silence for a while with his mouth once again wide open. After a bit, he gave the prisoner a quizzical look and stammered, "Wha...Wha...Wha?"

    The prisoner's shoulder sagged at Sir Hector's questioning stare, "Oh dear, I believe it's happened again. Did I just go totally wierd like and completely change personalities? Oh, I probably did. If only these things didn't happen to me. I tell you, I'm polyegotistic; I change personalities all the time, and most of the time, I don't remember much of anything I did. Here, let me introduce myself properly before I do something strange again," The prisoner stuck out his hand and Sir Hector hesitantly shook it as the man continued, "Hello, I'm Tullifer Dentmind, and I'm pleased to meet you."
     
  7. Megachihuahua

    Megachihuahua Ex-Christian

    +62
    Atheist
    Single
    US-Libertarian
    As in, it sounds like you're speaking to the reader. Some people like that, some people don't. I do.
     
Loading...