Chapter one(Does this taste like Chicken to you?) Introduction/My Jingles is missin'

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Chapter one: Introduction/My Jingles is missin’




Why hello there, my name is Mark Grafmiller.
I live in a small town called Aberdeen, in a big state called Washington,
and I am talking to you as if you were a five year old.
I work at the local Star Wars shop –You may recognize it by the sign that says "Star Wars Shop" in the Star Wars font—and I couldn’t be any more depressed with my job selection. But, enough about all that,
this all started when I lost my cat, Jingles I called him, he didn’t like the name much and I suspect he always cut me off on my way down the stairs as an attempt to kill me and get his revenge.
I called it the “Stair Wars.” It was only then I realized I had embraced my “Dork Side.” And had become what I truly hate: A Star Wars nerd.
Listen to this; I’m a nut, rambling on about Star Wars and Jingles’ attempts to kill me on the stairs not to mention my s****y job, I really wish I hadn’t.
Let’s get to the point shall we? It all started last week when Jingles went missing.
I tore apart the house looking for him, “where are you? Little b*****d,”
I said under my breath, “I’ll find you, there’s no where you can hide, I know all the spots.”
But that was the problem; I checked all his usual hiding places.
Oh s**t…I forgot to mention Jingles is an indoor cat…I’m really bad at this story telling thing.
Anyway; I searched and searched and didn’t find Jingles, so I decided to run next door to *Gulp*
Mrs. Brookston’s house (Queue Lightening, thunder and whinnying horses).
Each step up the stoop built ever increasing suspense,
I hated Mrs. Brookston, I kept waiting for her to die so I could buy the other half of the duplex...damn! I forgot to mention I live in a duplex, next to the crotchety old bat known as Mrs. Brookston.
I took precise care to holding the knocker, because for some odd reason I was going to use the knocker,
I usually just knock on the door with my knuckles.
I knocked once, twice, thrice upon the door with the knocker—Odd word; Thrice. Don’t know why I used it.—A scratchy, ancient voice preceded from inside the secondary apartment, “Ooh thuh fook is et!?”
The sound of Mrs. Brookston’s incredibly Irish—and gurgley sounding—accent startled me for a second.
“I-its Mark; from next door, I’m looking for my cat.” My voice sounded white with fear—how exactly does a voice sound white? Anyway—“He isn’t here, go away Mart, no visitors!”
She sounded…angry…“Fine…and it’s Mark, M-a-r-k.” I fled the steps gleefully, knowing my Jingles wasn’t in that horrid apartment. But where exactly was he?

 

I went back home and hopped on my computer, “S**t! I shouldn’t have turned it off.”
I run off of Vista…I hate Vista, probably because I have no idea how to use Vista.
I’m sure if I learned how to use Vista it’d run just fine.
After an hour of: “Updating outdated VR Software? What the f**k does that mean!?”
I finally got started on making flyers with Adobe Photoshop.
They pretty much looked like this:

http://i235.photobucket.com/albums/ee114/joshuagerlach/MissingJingles.jpg

(Image not available on WC)

 

Yeah, I still think the Star Wars font was just a tad over the edge.
After about 6 hours of stapling these monstrosities to phone poles, trees and the like,
I decided to get some food. Chinese food is my favorite, I love it, I love it, I love it, I f*****g love it!
So I hit the nearest Chinese-cuisine restaurant and ordered Almond Subgum Chow Mein, the best.
If you’ve ever been to Chinese Village you know what I mean by “The best.”
Just then, a friend of mine walked in— or, more of strutted in.
My friend, Lyol, ordered the BBQ Pork & Sesame Seeds with a side of orange chicken, not a bad dish, but not as good as the Almond Subgum Chow Mein. – Why the f**k did I just tell you what he ordered? Whatever, it doesn’t matter, back to the story.—so, he noticed me, I noticed him, and we got a table together, que-sera-sera.
“Hey Mark!” he said, just wait for the kicker… “Whath up?” yeah…he has a lisp “Nothing man,” I say to my speech-impedimised friend, “I was just about to enjoy some Almond Subgum chow, an then continue looking for my damn cat.” Then, trying to sound concerned—but he wasn’t—Lyol says “Oh man! Jingleth ith mithing? Damn, that really thuckth dude!”
“Yeah,” I say back, trying not to crack up at his lisp, “I can’t find the little f****r anywhere.”
Just as f****r escaped my mouth about 16 customers and 8 employees looked up at me in astonishment—like they’ve never heard a f*****g curse word before—
“Well, I hope you find him. You’ve had that cat thinth you were like, twelve dude!”
He said, fake concern and all.
“Yeah,” I said to him, “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
“Hey mark?”
“Yeah man?”
“Doeth thith taitht like chicken to you?”
He gave me a bite of his Orange Chicken, “Kind of, why?” I asked
“I dunno, it jutht doethint taitht like chicken all that much. Oh well.”

 

 

Reviews

[Christel Grady]

I'm l;aughing my butt off already! Fabulous story-telling. Your brains seems to work like mine......when it works. : )

[Angel's Lady]

Where exactly is Mr. Jingles? I'd like to know myself now. Hmm...so did you find him?
I like this very much!