Eddie (edminster) wrote,

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I was an Innocent Bystander (Chapter 2: Dude. Seriously.)

Ouch. Hey, everybody. I woke up late enough in the day that I missed work. My boss is quite understandably upset, though I doubt he was being serious when he said that I was no better than the slime-sucking eelfrog of Kualalampur. I hope I spelled that correctly. It would be incredibly embarassing to have my thoughts and feelings to be proved erroneus due to a simple error in spelling. I doubt anybody would read my novel if they found out how horribly I spelled a word. Or is it spelt? Gah, whatever. It's not like anybody's actually going to read this after I get my novel done.

Anyway, I woke up late because of my sudden lack of an alarm clock. I would have called in to work to explain the situation, but my cell phone was destroyed yesterday during the bizarre happenings at the hospital. I'm really regretting my decision to not buy a landline telephone for the house. I knew that was a bad decision, but I couldn't really justify the cost of something I wouldn't really use, could I? It's really going to hurt me later, I can already tell. After a nice, hot shower that taught me the importance of keeping fresh stitches out of water, I sat down at my computer. I think I mentioned to you all that my computer acts up, yesterday. I'll have to check my post for yesterday to see if I did. I was still kinda messed up from all the drugs, so I'm not entirely sure.

I logged on, and checked my email. Apparantly, though, my computer (whom I call 'Nippy' (even though I named him Juan Paulo Frobisher III)) decided that, rather than open up some boring old internet browser, it would begin streaming a video involving an incredibly varied cast of naked people doing strange things to each other. Oh, gawds, the images still burn in my head. I'll spare you the details of what I did next, but suffice it to say I no longer have a working cable modem. It appears that they aren't that sledgehammer-proof. Well, at least I don't have to wade through the hundreds of spam messages I get, anymore!

After donning a pair of cargo pants, and putting on a black t-shirt with "][>:=~+" gracing the front, I decided that I should go outside, for a breath of fresh air. To inspire my novel, that is. Speaking of which, I'm thinking of changing the setting from medieval fantasy to some sort of steampunk novel, featuring an orphaned girl on a quest for revenge. Revenge on what, I don't know yet. Maybe her parents were scientists who were brutally murdered in order to keep the secret of cheap, plentiful power from being revealed. I don't know. I mean, would that involve changing the title? I rather like the one I have now, but... enh, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

So, anyway, I ventured outdoors in order to have some sort of inspiration strike. Unfortunately, the path my story should take did not reveal itself. Ninjas did, however. I had forgotten about the ninjas. Well, not so much forgotten, as hoped that the beatidown they had so thoroughly delivered yesterday would be the last I saw of them. Apparantly it wasn't. As the ninjas began dropping from trees, emerging from shadows, and doing the whole 'oh my god, they're EVERYWHERE!' thing, I began slowly edging towards my bicycle. Ordinarily, a biciycle is not very effective in escaping ninjas intent on harming you, and today was no exception.

I woke up some indeterminate period of time later to the sound of seagulls and ocean waves. Much to my chagrin, I discovered that I was still wearing my eyepatch. I attempted to remove it in order to better take in my surroundings, to find that my arms and legs were bound with rope. So, I did what anybody would do if they woke up to strange noises, discovering that they were bound with rope, and unable to see out of one eye. I screamed. Something along the lines of 'dear God why is this all happening to ME? I just want to write a novel!' or other similar ravings. After shouting myself hoarse, I heard an odd noise approaching me. First, I heard a soft thump noise, followed after a short pause by a single *clack* of wood striking wood, and then immediately another thump.

The thumping and clacking continued for a maddening length of time, and I would have tried yelling again had my throat not made it very clear that any more use of my vocal cords would cost me dearly. So, I kept quiet. The thumpclacking came closer and closer, and I decided that I should take stock in my current situation, and come up with a plan of escape. After a quick glance around the room, I was given the impression that I was in a warehouse of some sort, most likely at the docks. There were crates stacked everywhere, and there were several large loading doors situated at even intervals around the building. One of which suddenly opened.

As blinding sunlight poured in through the door, I saw the silhouette of a very large man, seven feet tall if an inch. Broad across the shoulders, with an oddly shaped lump perched beside his head. The imposing figure had what appeared to be a pegleg, and a rather impressive hat. I was struck dumb at the sheer majesty of the man, who was simply standing in the doorway, with arms akimbo, facing me. With a swift movement, the man flung the door shut, and began to walk quickly towards me. As my vision adjusted to the gloom, I noticed something incredibly familiar about the man that I could not place. He stopped walking in front of me and cocked his head, studying my face.

So, I studied him. My earlier estimate of seven feet was grossly over the mark, as the man could not have been much taller than myself. He did, indeed, have a pegleg, and the lump upon his shoulder turned out to be a small squirrel. He was dressed in loose-fitting clothing, and bedecked with various trinkets and baubles, all of which showed a surprising amount of grime. He was wearing a rather wide belt, from which hung various and sundry items. I noted a cutlass, two flintlock pistols, a dagger, and a teddy bear. It was the teddy bear that caused my brain to reject all of this as real, mainly because I had been through enough stress already. I wasn't able to incorporate fuzzy wuzzy teddy bears and itty-bitty squirrels into my definition of 'Pirate' today.

So, I blacked out. Again.

I woke up this time at the library, sitting in a computer chair, with a note duct-taped to my arm. It read, in its entirety, the following:

"Yarr. Sorry about that, young man. I did not intend to scare you so badly. In fact, I had no intention of interacting with you at all, as I feared the brutal Ninja attack you had suffered had left you in a condition too frail to accept sudden shocks, As it turns out, I was correct, but I could not, in good conscience, leave you unconscious on your front lawn. So, I secured your limbs, and carried you to my warehouse so you could recuperate in peace. Apparantly, I neglected to take into account that you are a very skittish person who has had more than a few shocks, recently. I apologise for my actions, but again, I would not be able to live with myself had I simply left your battered form upon the ground, out where FSM knows what could happen to you. Anyway, if you are wondering how I happened to discover your near-death state, I cannot tell you. I wish I could, but the Code of the Pirates would not permit it. Also, I would advise against going home tonight, as I doubt the Ninjas have stopped watching your property. You must have offended them something awful, for them to hold such a grudge.

In fact, I have never heard of such attention paid to an individual who isn't connected with ANYbody of importance, and all of them converging on a single random stranger? Unthinkable. Anyway, I brought you here to the library so you could begin writing your novel. On a related note, you talk quite a bit in your sleep. Your ideas are intriguing, and I look forward to having a chance to read your final product. If you ever need aid on the High Seas, just blow into the magical conch shell I have placed at your feet, and I will appear instantly to help. Actually, I'm just joking. That would be interesting, though. Something people would read about, you know? Not that I'm trying to influence your works, or anything like that. But still, keep in mind, pirates read a lot more than you would expect. Good luck with the story, young man.

Yarrrrs truly,
Antonio del Yamaguchi"

I honestly do not know how to react to that. So, I can't go home tonight, my car is still at the hospital (to the best of my knowledge), I still can't see out of my left eye, I've been beaten by ninjas twice in as many days, I've encountered a couple of incredibly polite pirates (one of whom is a doctor), I am in serious pain still, I have no place to stay tonight, I have been unconscious for more of the day than I would like to have been, I'm probably going to get fired from my job, I need a new alarm clock, and I doubt the rest of the week will get better. Hell, I am going to be very surprised if I stay alive that long. It's just been that kind of day, today. Well, I gotta go, and find a park bench to curl up on for the night.
Tags: nanowrimo

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