NationStates Jolt Archive

FE-35 woke up with a start. *ping* *ping* *ping*...

"Oh, it's just those damn trees!" she continued thinking to herself, "SHUT UP WILL YOU I'M TRYING TO SLEEP." *ping* was the only reply she got but she managed to get back to bed.

A couple of hours later after the sun got up, and making a huge racket by calling a fog horn over the whole area, FE-35 got out of her bed and stood on the floor. They made a squeaky noise as if she had trodden on one of the squeaker toys. But she didn't the floor was immaculately clean there wasn't even a scrap of paper or even a sign of clothing. Sprawled on the floor.

Each step she took a similiar noise emanted from the floor. Heading over to the window she was on the second floor of her house. Teapots frollicked too far away in the meadow calling to each others and those around "Jibber Jabber Joo"

There were 4 more trees in the garden than there were when she went to bed, she glared down at them for a moment. Before a bonging noise came from a nearby dairy.

"Must be milking the cows." she thought, about 30 minutes later she was ready and had just finished breakfast, getting up to put the cereal and milk away. She was startled... "BOO!" a monkey screamed in her face before "Ooo Oo Ah Ah Ooo Oo"ing off out of the house and into the fields.

The result was spilled milk a small portions of a grain-based cereal scattered all over the floor each one making their own noise in a cacophony of just sheer unadultered chaos. She grabbed a mop which made it's own loud "Swoosh" noise as she mopped up the mess.

She sighed before locking up and heading out the door, this was going to be just another day in the land of Nong Nang Ning.

OOC: Nong Nang Ning is a very choatic place you have no idea what's around the corner and you are welcome to come participate in perhaps the most ludicros way possible.

OOC: I'm tempted to join in, very tempted, but I'm not sure I could quite match the Douglas Adams-esque theme. It looks like it will be a hillarious read though, if others can.

OOC: Heh, It's actually based on this poem (http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/spike-milligan/on-the-ning-nang-nong/) by Spike Milligan. A crazy Brit but I suppose so is Douglas Adams and the monty python crew.

*bump*

Open - come on people let's have some crazyness

OOC: Can you give me some more info on the setting?

ooc: Reading this, I can't help but think if Jabberwocky... or anything else Lewis Carroll for that matter. I may have just been inspired..

Justin awoke to the noise of pinging.

"Ugh" he thought, "bloody binmen as usual at god knows what time in the morning."

Opening the curtains (which he was sure squeeled in delight), he noted that the cows were making odd noises as they were being milked.

"I don't know about you, Olli," he said, referring to his dog "but I don't think we're in Bostopia anymore..."

OOC: Can you give me some more info on the setting?

Imagine total choas in the mind of a 2-3 year old. Everything in this world makes some kind of odd sound and is loud about it. The 6 noises listed in the poem are canon... these cannot be changed. However if you do an action please make up a weird sound for it, doesn't matter if it contradicts anything else. It is a crazy world after all.

There is no death, or "adult relationships" things just pop in and live as the form they are until they pop-out.

Apart from that there is no limit to what they might encounter.

The Grass waved in the breeze as each blade continually chatted to each other, "Oh" "Ah" "Owww" noises came from the grass as FE-35. Trampled her way to the milking sheds.

And there she met MA-35, who was already hard at work... Saucepans where on the cows heads, it made them feel stylish. "Morning FE, the sun got you up?"

"Yeah, MA." . The air was filled with a range of noises from the cows themselves to the milk that just kept asking "Got Milk?" To the bucket who keppt singing a song that seemed to be called "I'll hold in my steel embrace"

From the window, Justin would of easily seen FE-35 enter.

A Wanderer came tramping down the dusty path, whistling merrily. All he had ever done was to wander; although he never seemed to go anywhere, he was merry, slightly overweight (despite the fact that he walked everywhere), and always ready with a romping yarn or tall tale. Over his shoulder he carried a sack, and in the sack there was a violin that played itself; and as the Wanderer whistled the violin that played itself accompanied him, so that they formed a most felicitous duet.

Presently the Wanderer came upon a Flower. While the Flower stood nearly as tall as he, the Wanderer did not bat an eyelid, nor did he show fear. For the Wanderer, as all the children knew, was completely fearless; he had battled dragons and ghouls and rats and all manner of unpleasant things, and gained treasures and rescued fair maidens from wicked sorcerers. So the Wanderer bade the Flower good morning.

"Meow?" said the Flower.

"Oh of course not, the sky is not nearly green enough to-day," the Wanderer said in answer. And indeed it was not particularly green.

"Meow?" again said the Flower.

"But of course, I am well on the way towards them already," the Wanderer responded. "Do you wish to accompany me?"

But the Flower, too shy to answer, skipped away gaily towards the sun, which glared at it with a glance of rebuke before returning to its income tax forms.

The Wanderer merely shrugged, and removed a plum from his pocket and tossed it into the air. But it did not come down. He scratched his head. "Curious, that doesn't happen every day." Then he chuckled heartily and resumed his tread onwards towards the village. The violin that played itself began a jolly hornpipe, and as the Wanderer passed down the endless pathway he waved to the happy teapots as they frolicked in the fields, but they did not seem to notice him.

The plum continued to float through the air. Today was it's day. It was off and away. As the Teapots Jibber Jabber Jooed the plum as it went it cooed.

As the Wanderer continued down the road a village suddenly appeared where there was no village before. The road prominately entered the village and prominately exited right back out again.

The entirity of the village was 4 buildings on each side of the road. A general store, a saloon that served milk and juice, a hotel and for some reason a CheesyBurger fast food restaraunt where all the employees were large mice.

The convict sat bolt upright in a field, grass tinkling like shards of glass in the breeze. At least he was a convict last night. Now he found himself in a rather odd field. He was ...free? The word floated away in a very real thought bubble, then disappeared with a loud pop. He simply stared.

The convict stumbled to a pond he hadn't noticed before, shoes squeaking crazily on the grass. The water sang nonsensical songs about purple ice cream while the dogfish chased the catfish, both of them squealing in good fun. Turning again, he found himself standing at the edge of a road.

"What the hell...?"

Feeling numb, he started walking, shoes squeaking all the way.

The Wanderer looked upon the village with no surprise. There were always villages popping up along his road, which seemed to go on forever in both directions although the terrain was never particularly different. As he walked the ground gibbled and ruffed softly, while in the distance the wind chuckled through grass and a cloud skwitched across the sky. The violin that played itself took up a pleasant minuet.

As the Wanderer entered the town he encountered an Indescribable Being. The Indescribable Being was so because he was very much like nothing at all that had ever been seen before on the earth, and so no words existed to describe him; but the Wanderer was not taken particularly aback, and as was his fashion, he bade the Indescribable Being a good forenoon.

The Indescribable Being responded with a word whose pronunciation cannot be approximated in print, with an accent like no accent that had ever been heard before.

"Why no," answered the Wanderer. "The sky is not nearly green enough yet to-day." And indeed it was not particularly green.

Once again the Indescribable Being said a few words such that no human tongue has yet reproduced.

"But of course, I am well on the way already. Do you wish to accompany me?" the Wanderer asked.

The Indescribable Being made a noise of assent, a noise which human ears are incapable of understanding; and he made to walk beside the Wanderer. For being an Indescribable Being he had suffered much neglect and strange looks from those unused to him, and only those who had traveled the wide world and seen all that there was to see -- like the Wanderer -- were fond of his company.

First the Wanderer and the Indescribable Being entered the general store. As they stepped onto the floor it squutched and fwibbed, though it remained quite solid; the shelves of the general store were quite empty at first, but out of the corner of one's eye one could see the goods as though hiding from scrutiny, occasionally appearing where one could have sworn there had been nothing earlier. The Wanderer reached down behind a shelf and, with an exclamation of triumph, grabbed a struggling package; it was a chunk of rosin for the violin that played itself, and its tiny legs and wings struggled to flee the clutches of the Wanderer, but to no avail.

"Gotcha!"

The rosin unhappily sobbed an excerpt from the finale to Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony as the Wanderer placed it in a poke and sought out the next item he required. By now, as he had been occupied in seizing the rosin, the shelves were more populated than they had been earlier; and he was able to procure a can of gorp without too much difficulty. The Indescribable Being found an object resembling no other object that had ever been made, and put it in his own poke; and together they headed to the register to obtain their purchases.

Up ahead of the convict, the spotted what looked like one of the VW Vans in the distance. It didn't seem to move but it disappeared from in front as he heard a *put**put**put* sound coming from behind. The van pulled up next to him... though it didn't look like any Van he'd ever seen before. The colours were yellows, blues and pinky reds. The entire Van was in fact wavy. The wheel's where an oval shape and it looked like there was not a straight line anywere in it.

The sliding door opened, somehow, and a voice came from inside. "Want a lift?"

"That'll be a song about daisies and a cartwheel thanks." the shop-keeper replied who suddenly appeared sneezing and honking his nose as he did so.

A cat, of the chesire variety was suddenly sitting on the top shelf of the general store. "Come, Wanderer, won't you have a grin with me?" It's wide smile hung around while the rest of it vanished into thin air.

*bump*