User:TheLedBalloon/UnBooks
Diary of gardening
seeds from a drug dealer
water is bland, so add salt
threaten to harm the plants' loved ones if they refuse to grow
regularly whip them if they grow crooked - spare the rod etc
make own fertilizer
give them "the talk" once they hit plant puberty
Don Quijote Parte Número Tres: Los Romances[edit | edit source]
A long time ago in La Mancha, in a town whose name neither Miguel de Cervantes nor I care to remember, there lived an old, skinny nobleman with a few minor titles and a dilapidated manor to his name. Although he'd grown a touch senile in his old age and as a consecuence his family and many others often failed to take him seriously, he had one or two friendships that had been made close by countless miles travelled, and strengthened by insurmountable odds overcome. His name, like his town's, has long ago passed from memory, but for simplicity's sake it may as well have been Don Quijote de la Mancha.
At least, that's how it was. Was, and is no longer, because unbeknownst to our ever-unlucky protagonist, a conspiracy was brewing. A lone windmill, cut from the same mold as the troupe Don Quijote recognized as disguised giants and battled in La Mancha, shiftily scuttled out from behind a craggy boulder only to slide a plywood covering off the opening of a nearby dead-drop. A blue glow emanated from the niche in the plain, and as the windmill reached in the rapid rattling of a keyboard could be heard quietly drifting over the rolling hills. Suddenly a blue laser shot ten feet out and then stopped, as if it had punched straight through space itself and continued along into interdimensional nothingness. From there a bright point of light flashed and began to grow into an enormous circular plane of blue electricity. The windmill's icy, focused stare softened into a smirk, then a sneering grin before finally settling into the cold chuckle of a pleased Call of Duty-playing middle schooler who thinks he's SOOO cool just because he killed me ONCE, gargling his idiot laughter and wearing that little cumdrinking grin of his, I swear I'll--umm... The giant in disguise stepped into the portal, and disappeared.
Capítulo número uno: One giant problem[edit | edit source]
20 years in the past, a younger, saner Don Quijote was just finishing one of the first novels he'd read in a long time. It was a tale of knightly chivalry, or perhaps chivalrous knightery, complete with a dragon in distress guarding a firebreathing treasure, or something to that effect. He'd enjoyed reading a few such tales in his youth, but a few weeks prior a great uncle of his died and bequeathed unto the middle-aged nobleman an immense collection of similar stories, from Gregory Garfield's The Gregarious Gallant and the Great Gargling Goblin,[1] to Erica Chanelle's How to Lose a Dragon in 10 Days.[2]
Suddenly a blue flash illuminated the backyard of the Quijote manor like an exploding smurf. Rushing to the windw, the young nobleman watched as a circle of electric plasma shrunk and disappeared, and a strange futuristic windmill spun its blades lazily atop the rubble where his shed had stood just a moment ago. Don Quijote scratched his head, confused, then raised a finger and opened his mouth to protest, but the words didn't come to him and he closed his mouth, lowered his hand, and rubbed his eyes.
"Oy vey," he said, before quickly covering his mouth and looking around to make sure the inquisition wasn't coming to take him away for accidentally validating Jewish culture.
"Your books. Give them to me," said the windmill, speaking through a thick German accent in spite of its obviously Spanish origins.
Footnotes[edit | edit source]
<references>
- ↑ In which tome almost 2/3rds of the words begin with "G," in order to, as the author explains in the prologue, "get glorious revenge on my asshole parents for giving me such a shit name.
- ↑ Although the popularly reviled Heath Ledger remake leaves a lot of the original story out, most critics say that it is of "about equal" quality