Hello, there! I’m Christopher, which you should have known if you saw my cute little green logo. So, let me not distract you from the following post. I hope you like it! I’d love to hear your thoughts after you’re done reading it! Enjoy!
“Good evening. This is Ned Hortz, your Lumpyville newscaster. You’re listening to the . . . news . . . wait, I read the script wrong! ALL WRONG! ARGGG! I always do this! Last time I read “Good morning!” Before that I said I was Ned Cruz! Before that, I said we were broadcasting from Yeongju! And before that I said . . .”
“Uh, Mr. Hortz.”
“What is it, Mr. Splendid-Unknown-Name Producer?”
“Just get on with it. Just be thankful that you haven’t been fired yet.”
“Oh? Are you HINTING at something? I only have a few more days left, then y’all can find me on the streets, huh, huh, HUH?”
“No, you’re the best newscaster we tried out. Like there was this one guy who kept calling himself Rob Bush, though his real name was Robert Odd “Fire” Bush. All we want you to stop doing is your never-ending unthankfulness rant! ‘Oh, I hate the fact that I can’t read the scripts.’ ‘Oh, I accidentally ate my tie.’ ‘Oh, I slipped on an orange peel on the way . . .’”
“It was a grapefruit peel!”
“Just deliver the news.” As soon as Mr. Producer flipped the switch off, he moaned, “What a crazy news anchor we have.”
And did I just hear the switch complain, “Why does he always slam me like that?”
“Good evening. You are now watching Lumpyville News, or LVN for short. I am your news anchor, Ned Hortz. Follow me on Naver-!!! I’d start complaining about the lack of followers I have, but then I’d get fired and then you’ll have to step over me on your way to work.
“One note before we jump into the news. I think it is unnecessary to say my name and this channel’s name, because Mr. Awesome-Unknown-Name Graphics Man always put those things for you to read on the screen which you are now staring at. If you can’t read, then talk to your mommy! Let me know what you think of this upcoming change.”
If you had listened closely, you could hear the microphone buzz, “Oh, I wish I was a ribbon microphone, so that he’d blow my ribbon and I wouldn’t have to broadcast his annoying voice.”
“First off today, our head correspondent Tommy Notachoke has worked hard in the fields preparing this special story. I’d start complain and say that I wanted to do the story, but then I’d get fired. So I’ll keep my trap shut.”
“I’m keeping my trap shut!”
“Oh, here’s the story!”
“Hello, good citizens of Lumpyville. I, Tommy Notachoke, have been doing a little investigating lately.
“I’ve noticed that our fare town hasn’t been faring so well lately. Why? Well, I’ve noticed that many people have been complaining lately. Why are we moaning like crazy? I don’t know. So I’m gonna interview a handful of people and see if I can figure out why we are complaining so much.
“Hey, you . . . a guitar with arms?”
“How did you know my name?”
“I didn’t . . . but you’re a guitar with arms!”
“Yep! And I got no feet!”
“Well, Tommy Notachoke here, chief correspondent of LVN.”
“Yeah, I see you on TV!”
“Cool, well . . .”
“Uh, is there anything that you feel . . . bummed about?”
“Bummer. Oh, sorry. Well . . .” Guitar With Arms started, “I don’t have legs!”
“You do have arms.”
“Yeah, but my bottom gets tired from hopping all around! I wonder how those veggies live, hopping up and down all day long!”
“Well, we might be able to figure that out right now! I think I see Larry the Cucumber! Yo, Cuke, come here!”
“What’s this about?” the green guy asked.
“Tommy Notachoke, chief reporter of LVN. We are wondering how you are able to hop all day like that.”
“Oh,” Larry started. “I just . . . do it. Wanna know how I started to hop? Well, one day, my parents came over to where I saw sitting and pushed me out of my chair! And they said, ‘HOP!’ And I did! Well, I did fall flat on my face. But it was just a hopping stone! Heh, heh! Hopping stone, not stepping stone. Get it?”
“Do you ever get tired of hopping?” the guitar asked.
“Sure do! Especially after a long hike!”
“Then what do you do?”
“I ride my unicycle.”
“Now,” Tommy said, “is there anything that you wanna moan about?”
“Uh, YES! I got something! Look at me!!!”
“Well,” the Guitar started, “you got no legs . . .”
“. . . no arms . . .”
“. . . no beard . . .”
“. . . you’re green . . .”
“. . . you got eyes . . .”
“No, no, no, no, NO! Here, look at this picture from twenty years ago! Do I look ANY different?”
“Nope,” Tommy said. “You look exactly the same.”
“Can’t tell a difference,” Mr. Guitar said with a smile.
“Aye, you guys just don’t see it.”
“I see the picture!” the guitar exclaimed.
“In short, it was not a dream, because it WORKED!!!”
“Huh?” the other asked, their misunderstandment was clearly spelled on their face.
“Are they the guys who made ‘How To Train Your Dog To Eat Your Mom’s Flowers?’”
“Maybe, but they threw me into this machine (called a computer) and edited a ton of features of me! Now my skin’s not smooth, I have irises, my eyes now have sockets, my nose feels weird, I have these weird things called eyebrows, I can’t smile or talk properly, and my tongue scared CHRISTOPHER 164!!!”
“Who???” the reporter and guitar asked.
“Never mind. Anyways, has any of you seen Mr. Nezzer? I need to talk to him. Oh, wait, here he is! Mr. Nezzer! Mr. Nezzer! Mr. . . . Nezzer?”
“That’s Ichabeezer to you, silly pickle!” the grumpy zucchini shouted as he walked by with his hopping onion dog.
“Ruff!” the dog barked.
“That was weird,” the reporter said.
The wisecracking guitar had nothing to say. Too shocked.
“I can’t believe that!” Larry finally said.
“Sorry, dude,” Guitar With Arms said.
“Yeah, me too. I think I better go. Too depressed right now.” Larry hopped away sadly.
“And I think I better go,” the guitar said. “I need to write for my Blog With Arms. Bye, Tommy!”
“Bye! Happy writing!” Tommy waved good-bye as the guitar bounced away.
“Now, what do I see? It’s a teenage girl who is wearing a ton of makeup. A ton of white makeup. And a cross is painted on her cheek. If I wasn’t smart enough, then I’d think it was a . . . MONSTER! AHHHHHHH!!!”
“Huh?” the girl asked.
“Ahh, well, are you a monster?”
“No, I’m a mime.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Well . . .”
“You don’t know! Ha!”
“No, I was about to respond, but then you ever so rudely interrupted me!”
“A monster is some sort of weird and scary creature that’s NOT REAL, while a mime is a person who does some hand motions and stuff on stage without words.”
“But you aren’t miming right now.”
“Want me to?”
“Amen! It’s great that you were able to destroy the evil computer!”
“What? No, I was miming me giving my dog a bone.”
“Oh. Whoops!” Then Tommy started doing something.
“Oh, I was miming me saying ‘I stand corrected.’”
“Then why were you almost dancing around like crazy while holding your nose?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Embarrassed, the reporter regained his composure and said, “I guess I need to work on it a little more. So mimey, or missy, which title do you prefer?”
“Either one. I don’t mind.”
“Okay. Mimey, what should I call you?”
“Besides mimey or missy?”
“Well, many know me as MimeForJesus, but some know me as Grace, and some know me as Laura Owens, and this one crazy blogger calls me Laura Carrot.”
“I saw Larry the Cucumber just a few minutes ago!”
“Ha, ha, very funny.”
“And some know my alter ego.”
“Oh boy,” MFJ sighed.
“Mimey! Yeah!” a little girl shouted for joy as she ran up to MFJ.
“What do you need now?” MFJ wondered.
“I just wanna follow you wherever you go!” the girl exclaimed.
“Who are you?” Tommy asked?
“I’m God’s Thespian, but I am usually called ‘Thesie.’ Nice to meet you Tommy Artichoke!”
“What????” Tommy exclaimed. “That’s not my last name!”
“I see you on TV. I’m sure you’d like to meet Laura Carrot. She’s right here!”
“I’ve already met her!”
“Oh.” Thesie said innocently.
“How old are you Thesie?”
“Well, I'm nine! I look older than I am, though. I look like I'm nine-and-a-half.”
“Oh dear.” MFJ sighed again.
“Any thing that you aren’t happy about?”
“Well . . . my best friend, Jimmy Dunn, is sometimes a jack. You see, sometimes I wanna talk to him, but he isn’t around!”
“O . . kay. What about you MFJ?”
“I don’t think I really wanna say.”
“Well, the problem is right in front of your eyes.”
“No, the other person here?”
“What do you mean, Mimey?” Thesie asked.
“Oh, never mind,” Mimey nervously said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you follow me around . . .”
“It’s just something that happened when I followed you on Disqus!”
“. . . and you used to hack my account . . .”
“. . . and you keep eating my HOT DOGS!!!”
“Can I have some of those?”
“No! I think you owe me like 59 of them or something.”
“Well, I do have . . . two dollars and fifty-nine cents! Will that work?”
“Not even close,” MFJ mumbled. “Well, I think we should start to get going . . .”
“But I’m not a movie star yet, Mimey!”
“Thesie, just because you’re on TV for a little bit doesn’t mean that you’re instantly a movie star!”
“Bye, Mr. Tommy!” MFJ waved.
“Bye, Artichoke!” Thesie laughed.
“Grrrrr . . .” Tommy mumbled with disgust. “That wasn’t any fun at all. I’m not an ARTICHOKE! Oh, there’s someone there in a hurry! Let me stop him! Hey, mister! Why are you in a hurry?”
“Well, I’m a scout for this new movie that’s being made, and I think I found the perfect person to be the lead actor! That little nine-and-a-half girl you were talking to! I must talk to her!” And the scout ran over to them.
“Wow, that was unexpected! So Thesie will be a movie star! Let’s see who else I can talk to . . .”
“See, Mimey! Being on TV does help me be a star!” Thesie exclaimed as she was walking by with MFJ and the scout.
“Oh, be quite. Just hope your parents approve.”
“What’s wrong with you? Jealous?”
“Oh, stop it.” Mimey grumbled.
“Well, I’ve only done a few interviews, but I don’t fully know what the conclusion is. All I know is that we’re all grumpy about something and we need to fix that. I know who can solve the problem! BubbleMan!!!”
“Huh,” BubbleMan asked himself (or the screen) as he was watching his TV. “BubbleMan? Who’s that? Oh, that’s me. Me. BubbleMan.
“BubbleMan! He’s here to save the day! Here to save this fare town from this unthankfulness! I’m here to rescue this town! Whee!
“Sorry, that ‘Whee’ was cliché, I think. I might be wrong. Maybe it’s ‘Muhahaahhahahahahahahahahahjahjahjajhajhjaja.’
“No matter cliché or not, I’m here to save the day!!!”
Come back next Friday to see BubbleMan in action!
Hello again! I’m so happy you finished reading my post, and, boy, do I hope you liked it!