Shorts

Here are two short stories I came up with.

The Story of They
Once there was a boy named Murphy who could turn into a squirrel at will. There was a new orginazation called THEY. Everybody guessed THEY was an acronym for something, but nobody knew what it was. Murphy decided to use his powers to discover what the acronym was. As a squirrel, he broke into the THEY orginazation building, and listened to a meeting of THEY. At first, it was slow, and he only learned that THEY had taken over a farm of llamas in North Dakota, but then he discovered that THEY stood for
The
Homicidal
English
Yodelers!
Armed with his new knowledge, Murphy saved the world by humiliating THEY into disbanding the organization and leaving everybody alone.
THE END


Journey to the Land of What
"Welcome to Spaghettiland, where we eat Italian food that is really American all day and night, and then we all sing 'Kumbiya' until Thursday goes insane," said a fairy cheerfully.
Ingrid turned her head to the side. "What now? You're not making any sense." "Neither are you," replied the fairy, it's gossamer wings flittering impatiently as it sat on the toadstool, which was grumbling to itself. "But then again, this is a dream, darling, so nothing is supposed to make sense." "Wait. Since when was this a dream?" Ingrid asked, blinking, confused. "Ever since you ate those chocolates there," the fairy said, pointing to a box of cookies that had materialized out of nowhere. "Once more: You're making no sense!" Ingrid said, becoming rather cross. "Once more: this is a dream! Either that, or you fainted and fell out of the rowboat, in which case welcome to Heaven, 'cos I'm afraid you drowned, darling," the fairy replied coolly, nibbling a Gala apple. Ingrid muttured something under her breath, then thought the rest of it. "Nice to know your opinion of me, darling," the fairy said, crossing its eyes and then uncrossing them again. "Great. Here I am, chatting with an insane telepathic fairy who likes apples and thinks I've drowned. Lovely." Ingrid muttured. The fairy sneezed and then she flew a foot in the air, then landed on the toadstool, which yelped. "Sorry, Mister," the fairy shouted to the toadstool. Then she turned back to Ingrid. "Now, darling, you ought to know my name. It's Fiona Violet Pumpernickel Merriweather Olivia Gala Stacy Princess the Fourteenth. Nice to meet you." The fairy held out her tiny hand, which Ingrid shook reluctantly. "My name is--" "Oh, hush, darling, I know your name," the fairy interruppted. "It's Ingrid, isn't it?" "Yes, for once." "Nice to meet you. I know my name is a mouthful, so let's call me...Fiona. Lovely name, Fiona. In fact, your name is a mouthful, too, Ingrid. Let's rename you Ivy." "I like my name, and it's only two syllables, while your full name has twenty-six. I'm calling myself Ingrid, thank you very much." "Oh, nobody will go with that. It's a dream, remember, Ivy-darling? Besides, Ivy only has three letters, Ingrid has six. Eye-enn-gee-are-eye-dee. Ingrid. Six letters. Ivy is eye-vee-why. Three letters. You will find, in my logical argument of babbling, that I have repeated multiple times that three is a magic number. A three letter name will allow you to cast spells." Ingrid simply stood there. "I don't get it. Besides, if you're such a fan of the number 3, then why are you named Fiona-whatever-the-last-names-are?!" "You have a point. I'm renaming myself Ann. Without an E. Goodbye, Ivy-darling." Then Ann-Fiona was gone in a puff of marshmallows. "What. The. He--" Ingrid was about to say, but then Ann-Fiona appeared again and said, "there is no profanity in the Land of!" Then she was gone again. Ingrid shrugged and walked away, muttering, "the Land of What?"