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Cool Universe XVIII
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Cool Universe XVIII |
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mirror man Senior Member
since 2001-01-08
Posts 814 |
Cool Universe by mirror man Chapter 18 “Now,” said Mr. Hemorrhoid, picking up all the papers, statues, and paintings, and putting them aside, “as you know, this is your last day here. And since it’s your last day here, it’s customary for me to give you all a little speech about how nice it’s been and how you will be leaving here with all the tools you’ll need to make your way out there in the real world.” He paused and continued, “So I’d just like to say, now, that’s it’s been n---, it’s been n---” He broke off suddenly, jumped out of his seat, grabbed his head, and yelled, “Oh, I hate this!” He pounded his fist on the desk and said, “Why’d I have to come back here? I didn’t have to come back here. I coulda...I coulda....” He grabbed his tie. “Look at this tie.” Everyone looked at his tie. “This tie cost me five bucks,” he said. “Look at this suit.” Everyone looked at his suit. “This suit cost fifty bucks,” he said. “Look at these shoes.” Everyone looked at his shoes. “Genuine cow leather,” he said. “Do these shoes look like the shoes of a high school math teacher?” Everyone shook their heads. “No,” he said. “These are the shoes of a university professor! But I had to teach high school. Aaaaagh! I coulda...I coulda been somebody!” He paused, and added, “And a whole year goes by and not one extra lousy notch on my paddle!” Then he sat back down, glared around the room, and said, “Now that I’ve got that out of the way---Aaaaaagh! Now that I’ve got that out of the way, the question is, what’s it like out there in the real world? I could just let you all find out for yourselves, but that wouldn’t be nice, would it?” Hee, hee. “And I’m sure you’ve heard people talk about it, and I suppose I could tell you about it myself. But what you really need is an expert in the field, someone who’s been out there all his life and knows how it is. So I have invited a colleague of mine who can tell you all about it firsthand. Without further delay, then, please welcome my friend and yours, Zippy the Clown.” He stretched an arm towards the door, the door opened, and in walked Zippy the Clown. “Hi, boys and girls!” said Zippy the Clown. He waved to the class. He was wearing his usual wardrobe: red hair that stuck straight out all ways with a little round hat on top, a big red nose, white pajamas, big floppy shoes, a fake flower, and a horn. “Hey!” said someone, “it’s Zippy!” “Honk!” said Zippy. “Hey, Zip!” said someone else. “Honk! Honk!” said Zippy. “Alright Zippy!” said someone else. Then Zippy ran up and down the aisles honking his horn, flapping his shoes, and squirting everyone with his fake flower. Everyone cheered, clapped, and got honked and squirted. Then Zippy went back up to the front desk and took off his hat and said, “Okay, boys and girls, that was fun.” “Yay, Zip!” said someone. “But now it’s time to get serious.” He looked around the class, got serious, and waited for everyone to get serious too. When everyone got serious, he said, “Now, I know a lot of you have seen me on TV, but this is different. My friend and colleague, Harry Hemorrhoid, has invited me here to tell you how it really is out in the real world. And as owner of the Zippy the Clown Chicken Factory Corporation, I think I have a lot to say. But as Zippy the Clown, I don’t really want to give you a long, boring speech. Because that wouldn’t be fun. So rather than do that, I thought I’d give you all a firsthand demonstration of how the real world works.” He stopped to let them take all that in, and then said, “First let me say that it’s not going to be the same for all of you. Some of you are going to leave here and go out and get jobs, and some of you are going to go on to college. The ones that are going to college, raise your hands.” A bunch of kid dudes and dudettes raised their hands. “Okay,” said Zippy, “all of you that raised your hands, go over there and wait.” He pointed to a corner of the room. All the kid dudes and dudettes that had raised their hands went over to the corner and waited. “Okay,” he said, “now the rest of you, who wants a job?” “What’s a job?” someone said. “That’s where you work five days a week, eight hours a day, and get paid,” said Zippy. A bunch of kid dudes and dudettes raised their hands. “Okay,” said Zippy, “all those who didn’t raise their hands, go over there and wait.” He pointed to another corner of the room, and all the kid dudes dudettes who hadn’t raised their hands went there and waited. “Okay,” said Zippy, “now all you who want jobs, come up here and put this on.” He pulled a chicken suit out from behind the front desk and waved it in the air. It had big, floppy wings, a long red tail, a round white body, and a large, over-sized head with an orange beak that hung open for the person inside to look out of. It was made all of feathers. “What’s that?” said someone. “That’s your uniform,” said Zippy. “A chicken suit?” said someone else. “Sure,” said Zippy. “That’s what you wear when you work.” “Why do I gotta wear a chicken suit?” someone said. “It teaches you respect,” said Zippy, “and humility. Here. Try it on.” “Well, okay.” One kid dude put one on, and then another kid dude put one on, and pretty soon they were all wearing chicken suits. All except Grumbly. Zippy looked at Grumbly. “Put your chicken suit on, Grumbly. You’ll need it to work in.” Grumbly just folded his arms, scowled, and said, “I ain’t wearing no chicken suit.” “Why not?” said Zippy. “Because it’s stupid,” said Grumbly. “And it looks ridiculous.” “Okay,” said Zippy. “Go over there and wait.” He pointed to the corner where the kid dudes who didn’t want jobs were standing. “But I want a job,” said Grumbly. “I just don’t wanna wear a chicken suit.” “Sorry,” said Zippy. “Those are the rules.” “Yeah?” said Grumbly. “Well, who are you? Why do I have to listen to what you say?” “Because I own the chicken company,” said Zippy, “and this is the only place you can get a job.” “Oh.” Grumbly looked over to the corner and stared. There were Cousin Satan and all his smiling friends: Beef, Bean, Bash, Hammer, Crunch, Crazy, Paranoid, Schizoid, Psycho, Rabid, Deviant, Flagellant, Torture, Maim, Mutilate, Murder, Cannibal, Sadomasochism, and Goodtime. “Oh, alright!” said Grumbly angrily. “Gimme the goddam chicken suit.” He grabbed the suit and started putting it on. “That’s better,” said Zippy. “So now what?” said someone. “Now you get to do your job,” said Zippy. He pulled out a cash register and sat it on the desk. “How’s your suit fit?” Zippy said to Grumbly. “Just great,” said Grumbly. “Good,” said Zippy. “Now I want you to come over here and stand in front of the cash register.” Grumbly walked over in front of the cash register. His tail swished back and forth as he walked, and his wings flapped. “Now look at the cash register,” said Zippy. Grumbly looked at the cash register through his open, orange beak. “I see it,” he said. “Now, you see all those little squares with pictures on them?” said Zippy. “Yeah. So what?” said Grumbly. “Push one,” said Zippy. Grumbly pushed a button and a drawer popped out at the bottom. It was full of money. “Hey,” said Grumbly, his eyes lighting up. “I think I’m gonna like this job.” “No,” said Zippy, “that’s not yours.” “No?” “No,” said Zippy. “That’s for making change for the customer.” “Who’s that?” “That’s the guy who comes up to you on the other side of the cash register and tells you what he wants.” “Oh,” said Grumbly. “He tells you what he wants, and then you push the little square with the picture on it that looks like whatever it is he says he wants,” said Zippy. “Oh,” said Grumbly. “This is getting stupid again.” “No, it’s not,” Zippy said patiently. “It’s how you do your job. Here. I’ll show you.” Zippy closed the drawer of the cash register and then walked around to the other side of the desk and said, “I’m the customer. Give me a chicken single.” “What’s that?” said Grumbly. “That’s this little square here,” said Zippy, pointing. “Push it.” Grumbly pushed the chicken single button and the money drawer popped open. “Now what?” said Grumbly. “See this little number here?” said Zippy, pointing to the top of the register. Grumbly looked. “That’s how much a chicken single costs,” said Zippy. “Five bucks,” said Grumbly. “Right,” said Zippy. He pulled a five dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to Grumbly. “Now put the five dollar bill in the drawer and close it up.” Grumbly put the five dollar bill in the drawer and closed it up. “Now what?” “Now yell ‘One chicken single!’ Like that.” “One chicken single!” Grumbly yelled. “Okay, now you,” said Zippy, grabbing another kid dude in a chicken suit, “you stand over here and hand me a chicken single.” He walked the kid dude over to the other end of the desk and put a chicken single on the top of the desk. “What’s this?” said the other kid dude in the chicken suit. “That’s a chicken single,” said Zippy. “Now pick it up and hand it to me.” The other kid dude in the chicken suit picked it up and handed it to Zippy. Zippy looked at it and put it back down on the desk. “No thanks,” he said, “I just ate.” “That’s it?” said Grumbly. “No,” said Zippy. “There’s other stuff too. There’s fries, drinks, and all kinds of sandwiches. And they come in large and small servings, and each one has a different price. But all the pictures are on the register, and the price comes up here. If someone says they want a fry, you push the fry button and yell ‘One fry!’ And if someone says they want a drink you push the drink button and yell ‘One drink!’ And whatever it is you yell, the other kid in the chicken suit gives it to the customer.” “Oh,” said Grumbly. And then, “It’s still stupid.” “Just give it a try,” said Zippy. “Yell ‘One fry!’” Grumbly scowled, looked around the room and said, “Oh, alright One fry!” The other kid dude in the chicken suit pulled out a fry and handed it to Zippy. “One drink!” Grumbly said. The other kid dude in the chicken suit pulled out a drink and handed it to Zippy. Zippy looked at the fries and drink and put them back on the desk. “No thanks,” he said. “I just ate.” Then he turned to Grumbly and said, “And if no one wants anything right then, you ask.” “Ask what?” “Ask whoever’s around if they want a chicken single.” “Okay,” said Grumbly, looking around the room. “Who wants a goddam chicken single?” “No,” said Zippy. “You have to ask nice.” “Okay,” said Grumbly nicely. “Who wants a goddam chicken single, please?” “Work on it,” said Zippy. “Okay,” said Grumbly. “Who wants a goddam fry, please? Who wants a goddam drink please?” He turned to Zippy and said, “You know, this ain’t so bad.” “So how much do we get paid?” said someone. “Enough,” said Zippy. “That sounds nice,” said someone else. “Yes,” said Zippy, “and there are other things to do. You can clean the counter, mop the floor, and pull weeds outside. And there’s even room for advancement. If you work hard and put in extra hours, you can become master chef.” “What’s that?” “He’s the guy who heats everything up,” said Zippy. “So what do we do?” said a kid dude in the corner with the others that were going to college. “Oh, well first you have to go through four years of college,” said Zippy. “Then, when you get out, you can do whatever you specialize in.” “What’s that?” “Well, you can go into management or production. What do you want to do?” “I want to be a supervisor,” said one kid dude. It was Cousin Overbear. “Okay,” said Zippy. “That’s management. Come over here.” Cousin Overbear walked up to the front desk and Zippy had him stand next to Grumbly. “Okay,” said Zippy to Cousin Overbear. “Now tell Grumbly to push a button.” “Push a button,” said Cousin Overbear. “No, not just any button,” said Zippy. “A particular one.” “Which one?” “Any one you like,” said Zippy. “Okay,” said Cousin Overbear. “Push the fry button.” Grumbly pushed the fry button. “Push the drink button,” said Cousin Overbear. Grumbly pushed the drink button. “Push the chicken button,” said Cousin Overbear. Grumbly pushed the chicken button. “Hey,” said Cousin Overbear, “this is fun.” “Yeah, well I don’t think so,” said Grumbly. He looked at Zippy and said, “And why isn’t he wearing a chicken suit?” “Because he’s a supervisor,” said Zippy. Grumbly thought about this and said, “Okay. I wanna be a supervisor too.” “You have to go through four years of college,” said Zippy. “Okay,” said Grumbly, “then I wanna go to college too.” “You own a house?” said Zippy. “No,” said Grumbly. “You got enough money to buy a house?” said Zippy “No,” said Grumbly. “Then keep your chicken suit on,” said Zippy. “Nice chicken suit you got there, Grumbly,” said Cousin Overbear. “This stinks,” said Grumbly. “So how much do I make?” said Cousin Overbear. “More than Grumbly,” said Zippy. “Hey! That’s not fair,” said Grumbly. “Sorry,” said Zippy. “Those are the rules. Of course, you can always go stand in the corner with your friends.” Zippy pointed to the corner again where Cousin Satan, Beef, Bean, Bash, Hammer, Crunch, Crazy, Paranoid, Schizoid, Psycho, Rabid, Deviant, Flagellant, Torture, Maim, Mutilate, Murder, Cannibal, Sadomasochism, and Goodtime all stood. They smiled. “What do they do?” said Grumbly apprehensively. “You don’t want to know,” said Zippy. “Oh...okay!” said Grumbly angrily. “That’s better,” said Zippy. “This is good,” said Cousin Overbear. “You mean, all I gotta do is stand here and tell Grumbly what to do?” “No,” said Zippy. “You also count the money.” “Alright!” said Cousin Overbear happily. “And then you give it to me,” said Zippy. “Oh,” said Cousin Overbear, not so happily. “Wait a minute,” said Grumbly. “I wanna be a customer.” “You got five bucks?” said Zippy. “No,” said Grumbly. “Then keep your chicken suit on.” “Aaaaagh!” said Grumbly. He jabbed a button and yelled, “Who wants a goddam fry?” “Hey!” said Cousin Overbear, “I didn’t tell you to do that.” “Very good,” said Zippy. “You learn fast.” “What about the rest of us?” said another kid dude form the college corner. It was Nerdles. “What do you want to do?” said Zippy. “I want to be an engineer,” said Nerdles proudly. “Okay,” said Zippy. “We got those. Come over here.” Nerdles walked up to the front desk and Zippy pulled out a bunch of chicken parts, laid them on the desk, and said, “I want you to design a chicken.” “Design a chicken?” said Nerdles. “Yes,” said Zippy. “These are all the parts you’ll need.” “But I’ve never designed a chicken before,” said Nerdles. “That’s okay,” said Zippy. “It’s easy.” He picked up two chicken parts and stuck them together. “See? Now you sit down here,” he sat Nerdles down, “and start putting chicken parts together, and tell me when you got a chicken.” “Well, okay,” said Nerdles. He started putting chicken parts together. “While he’s doing that,” said Zippy, “I want four of you guys in chicken suits to sit over here in a row.” He pointed to a long table on one side of the room. “And bring some chicken parts with you.” Four kid dudes in chicken suits grabbed a bunch of chicken parts off the front desk and walked over to the long table and sat down. “How’s that chicken coming, Nerdles?” said Zippy. “I don’t know,” said Nerdles uncertainly. “Well, show me what you’ve got.” Nerdles held up something that looked a little like a chicken and a little like a horse and a little like a kangaroo. “I think it needs some more work,” said Nerdles. “Well, it’ll have to do,” said Zippy. “Bring it here.” Nerdles brought Zippy the chicken/horse/kangaroo thing and Zippy held it up in front of the row of chicken guys. “Okay,” said Zippy, “now, I want each of you guys to make another one that looks just like this one.” All the chicken guys looked at it silently, and then one chicken guy said, “What the hell is it?” “It doesn’t matter what it is,” said Zippy. “This is stupid,” said another chicken guy. “Just make it,” said Zippy. “Yeah, but what is it?” said another chicken guy. “What’s it do?” “Somebody’s going to eat it,” said Zippy. “Eat it!” said another chicken guy. “Would you eat a thing like that?” “I don’t have to,” said Zippy. “Yeah?” said another chicken guy. “Well, I wouldn’t eat a thing like that and I’m not making it.” “Me neither,” said another chicken guy. “Me neither,” said another chicken guy. “Okay,” said Zippy patiently. He pointed to the corner and said, “Go over there and wait.” Then all the chicken guys turned around in their seats and looked at the corner. There were Cousin Satan and all his friends: Beef, Bean, Bash, Hammer, Crunch, Crazy, Paranoid, Schizoid, Psycho, Rabid, Deviant, Flagellant, Torture, Main, Mutilate, Murder, Cannibal, Sadomasochism, and Goodtime. They smiled. The chicken guys turned around in their seats and started making a chicken/horse/kangaroo thing exactly like the one Nerdles had just designed. Everyone stood around and watched, and when they were done, Zippy had them put them all in boxes. “And that’s it,” said Zippy. “The boxes will go in trucks and we send the trucks all over the universe: Germany, England, France, Russia, Hong Kong, Japan, everywhere. They buy our chickens, giving us money, which we bring back here to buy more chicken parts, make more chickens, and the whole thing starts all over again.” “So that’s how it works,” said someone. “Exactly,” said Zippy. “What about us?” said another kid dude from the college corner. It was Cousin Trust. “What do you want to do?” said Zippy. “I wanna be an executive,” said Cousin Trust. “Oh, yeah,” said Zippy. “I know your old dude. Come over here and stand next to Cousin Overbear.” Cousin Trust walked over and stood next to Cousin Overbear. “Okay,” said Zippy, “now tell Cousin Overbear to tell Grumbly to do something.” “Tell Grumbly to push a button,” said Cousin Trust to Cousin Overbear. “Hey, wait a minute,” said Cousin Overbear. “Why do I gotta do what he says?” “Because I say so,” said Zippy. “Yeah,” said Cousin Trust. Cousin Overbear frowned and said, “This stinks.” “How much do I make?” said Cousin Trust. “More than Cousin Overbear,” said Zippy. “Hey!” said Cousin Overbear, “that’s not fair!” “You can always go over there,” said Zippy, pointing to the other corner. Cousin Overbear looked over to the corner where Cousin Satan, Beef, Bean, etc, stood. He wilted. “Oh...alright!” said Cousin Overbear angrily. “Ha, ha!” said Grumbly. “I didn’t tell you to say that!” said Cousin Overbear. “Very good, very good,” said Zippy. Cousin Trust grinned and said to Cousin Overbear, “Tell Grumbly to push a button.” “Push a button!” said Cousin Overbear to Grumbly. “What button?” said Grumbly to Cousin Overbear. “What button?” said Cousin Overbear to Cousin Trust. “What button?’ said Cousin Trust to Zippy. “Tell him to push the chicken single button,” said Zippy. “Tell Grumbly to push the chicken single button,” said Cousin Trust to Cousin Overbear. “Push the chicken single button,” said Cousin Overbear to Grumbly. Grumbly pushed the chicken single button. “One chicken single!” Grumbly yelled. The chicken guy at the end of the desk pulled out a chicken single and handed it to Zippy. Then everybody looked at Zippy in his red hair that stuck out all ways, his red nose, his pajamas, his fake flower, his horn, and his floppy shoes. Zippy looked at the chicken single, put it down, wiped his hands off on a napkin, lit a cigar, smiled and said, “There. See how well that works?” Everyone nodded silently. “Gaaa!....Mmmmph,” said someone. Everyone looked to the front of the room, and there was Mr. Hemorrhoid struggling on the floor with a flying phlegm attached to his face. “Gaaa!....Mmmmph,” said Mr. Hemorrhoid. “Someone help!” said Abnorman. “Gaaa!....Mmmmph,” said Mr. Hemorrhoid. “Why?” said someone. “Because....uh,” said Abnorman. “Aggg!....phhhht!” said Mr. Hemorrhoid. He variously kicked desks and the air and flung his arms around. “Yes?” “Because it’s a flying phlegm!” said Abnorman. “So?” “Aggg! Gasp!” “It’ll suck his brains out,” said Abnorman, “and he’ll die.” “Oh.” Mr. Hemorrhoid was all this time flopping on the floor, pulling as hard as he could at the flying phlegm. But it wasn’t going to be pulled off. “So?” And then suddenly, without warning, the flying phlegm jumped off Mr. Hemorrhoid’s face. “Akkk! Akkk!” it said. “Phoo! Ptooey!” And flopped around the floor twice. And died. Mr. Hemorrhoid jumped up, kicked the dead phlegm across the floor and said, “That’ll teach you! That’ll teach you!” And to the class, “Class dismissed!” And that was the end of school. copyright 1998, 2000 Author’s note: this is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this work are fictional, and any resemblance to real life hypocrites, bullies, and liars is merely coincidental. [This message has been edited by mirror man (07-29-2003 12:31 AM).] |
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| © Copyright 2003 mirror man - All Rights Reserved | |||
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mirror man Senior Member
since 2001-01-08
Posts 814 |
To anyone reading this: Author's unpleasant note: this is the final and only version of this novel that I have released to the public. However, this novel has been copied and used by others without my knowledge or consent. So if you should happen to come across another copy of this novel, under this name or another, in any medium, on the web or not, it is not released with my knowledge and consent and so is pirate. Or plagiarism. Or both. |
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mirror man Senior Member
since 2001-01-08
Posts 814 |
Special note to teachers, educators: This novel, this version, may be copied and distributed in any medium as needed for classroom study. -- mirror man |
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