i got stuck in bed a few days ago and my books were in a different room so i amused myself by creating a story with paper and pen. its long, so i'm posting it in chapters. i make my own grammar rules.
An Untitled Work in a Slightly Skewed Dimension by Brak
Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Kay. She was born into a wealthy, royal family. Not quite as royal and wealthy as a king or even a duke, more like a second cousin twice removed of the Jester, but still fairly well off and respected. However, Kay's marginally wealthy and royal parents were hardly ever around, choosing to show their affection through elaborate gifts rather than with actual affection. Unfortunately, the people who were around weren't very nice and, as a result of constantly having her trust betrayed, Kay became introverted and odd. To escape her maniacal "friends" she would lock herself in her room for days on end. Eventually, her tormentors grew weary of her prolonged disappearances and wandered off to find a less troublesome quarry.
After a very great while, her parents noticed the absence of shouts (which they always assumed were in fun) coming from Kay's part of the house, and they ventured out to investigate. They found Kay in her room taking advantage of the silence by learning to paint from a television program about a soft-spoken man with an afro. Kay's mother opened the door and addressed Kay from the threshold, "Kay, darling, where have all your friends gone?"
"They've all run off."
"That's dreadful, dear! Is there anything we can get you to help ease your suffering?"
"Well, actually, Mother, I'd like to go outdoors and see some real happy little trees."
At this pronouncement, Kay's mother was quite shocked. Kay had never been outside and had never showed any interest in going, always contenting herself with the large, although treeless, courtyard in the center of the house. Kay's mother perplexedly inquired why Kay would ever want to risk being out of doors, "Why, there are bees and squirrels and grass stains and all manner of other tragedies out there!" she exclaimed.
"I know," countered Kay, "but I still want to go."
"All right, as long as I don't have to go with you. I have far too many important things to do today and can't be bothered to go traipsing about among the trees. But, Kay, please let me to buy you a car so you have at least some form of refuge from the elements."
Kay would have much rather walked out among the trees instead of whizzing by them in a car, but she knew from experience that refusing her parents' gifts was a bad idea. It made them feel inadequate and, whenever they suspected they were doing a poor job raising her, Kay always got landed in a weeklong therapy session. There, the therapist, Dr. Lackhanger, would keep her locked in a tiny room and spend hours at a time shouting at her that she was an ungrateful bitch and force feeding her novelty shaped ice cubes to "help cool her rage" as he explained to her parents when asked about his techniques. Finally, an exhausted and confused Kay would be returned to her house with Dr. Lackhanger's suggestion to try plastic surgery as a means of improving her poor self esteem. He would then collect a large wad of cash from her tearfully grateful parents and disappear until the next time Kay seemed less than enthusiastic about accepting a material good as a substitution for parental love. So, Kay delightedly accepted the car and was off.
Of course, having been housebound her entire life, Kay didn't know how to drive. Her mother thoughtfully solved with dilemma by assigning Kay a driver, an old man named Art who was so still and glassy-eyed that Kay at first thought he was a robot. Kay's desire to be outdoors soon quelled any doubts she had about Art's humanity, at least enough that she was able to get into the car and request a destination, "I want to see some happy little trees, Art. Please." Art gave a sharp nod and quickly, but carefully, got the car on the road.
Naturally, Kay was overwhelmed by the vastness and diversity of her surroundings and spent the short drive with her nose pressed to the window. There! A house! And over there! A terrier! And children playing in the sprinklers while being solicited by perverts on a fine summer's day! To Kay, the whole world was bright and glowing and joyous. Even the spectacle of a flea-ridden cat lady being pelted with empty cans by her neighbors as they vociferously threatened to call animal control was a delight to Kay's starved senses. Then finally, they arrived at the park.
Art flawlessly parallel parked the car between a lamp post and a dump truck but, even though the smell was putrefying, Kay was so overcome by a certain terrified thrill that she could not bring herself to exit the vehicle. Instead, she continued peering hungrily through the passenger-side window, drinking in the exotic scenery. It was an early summer day with a mild breeze, so there were quite a few people enjoying the sunshine. Mothers with tiny babies sat on benches or strolled along the paved track pushing carriages, and gossiping with one another. Elderly women shuffled about throwing breadcrumbs to pigeons and squirrels as their husbands reclined in lawn chairs with their newspapers. Toddlers and younger children scurried about the playground getting their first taste of that childhood delicacy, sand. And swaying above it all was a canopy of gorgeous trees: oak and maple, spruce and juniper, some big, some small, but all happy. Oh, happy, happy trees!
At this thought, Kay forgot her anxiety completely, flung open the door of her shiny, new car, raced across the grass and threw herself on the first tree she came to, passionately embracing it and delighting at the rough texture of bark against her cheek, the smell of sap, and the soft swish of leaves in the wind. "Oh, happy, happy tree!" Kay sighed.
The tree giggled in response. No, not the tree, but a girl about Kay's own age sitting under a nearby maple with a group of other young people. Soon, the giggling girl burst into peals of laughter which were joined by guffaws from her compatriots. Kay was not dismayed; she had seen sitcoms on her big screen T.V. and knew that hugging a tree was considered comical behavior. She had also learned from television how to address her peers, and although she was usually quite shy, in her tree-fueled glee, she decided to give it a go. She loosened herself from the tree, turned to face the others who had mostly stopped laughing and declared, "Whuzz up? This is a frickin' beautiful tree!"
"Freak!" was the only response she got as the group quickly evacuated the area. Kay was puzzled. Had she not addressed them in the proper vernacular? She decided to ask Art who had doubtless witnessed the event and, being older and more world-wise might be able to shed some light. Kay walked back to the car and found Art with his hands still on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead with his unblinking, doll-like eyes. "Art?" Kay began, but when there was no reaction, followed up with a tap on the windshield. When Art still did not respond, Kay reached through the open window and tapped him on the forehead. He didn't flinch or even blink. After being twice rejected, once by the giggling girl's group and again by Art, Kay decided today was a day best spent alone and wandered off to the more densely forested area of the park.
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