Delving into memory
I was browsing through my hard drive today and came across some old stories I'd written for GCSE. Thought I'd post one up and see what happened - it's not doing anything staying there! Enjoy.
Also considering putting up and writing some fanfictions, Sherlock being the first to come to mind...
To OC or not to OC? That is the question...
Trickster
April fools day. My favourite day of the entire calendar! The one day of the year when ludicrous pranks can be played on everyone you know without you getting into too much trouble. The one day when I, Maxine Helix, would prove my worth! The one day that you feel you could almost get away with a ‘Kick Me’ sign on the Head’s back unscathed. Almost.
That day was today!
My eyes snapped open as soon as my alarm started. I switched it off quickly. Why wake up everyone else when they were in the perfect state to be pranked?
I jumped up and pulled on my school skirt silently. A brief search unveiled a pair of socks and a much folded piece of paper. My trick list! I had been plotting since last year, when my mother switched my hair spray and I came to school with an afro that proceeded to eat seven combs. Matters were not helped when I opened my PE bag to reveal my older sisters ballet outfit, which, to everyone else’s amusement, I then had to wear on the football pitch. As I thought matters could not get worse, my dad then met me from school in his ancient 60’s disco kit.
This had nothing to do with me dying my sister’s hair green, putting a mouse in Mum’s boots and shaving my Dad’s eyebrows off the morning before. Such is revenge in the Helix household.
This year I was determined to return the favour.
I pulled out my specialist bag and opened it up. After much thought, I chose;
A small bottle of nail glue.
A bottle, ahem, eau de Lavatory. This was not metaphorical.
My Dad’s old electric razor.
A tub of unwashable red powder paint.
Some really embarrassing photos of Dad.
The voice box of my sister’s old Furby.
Two plastic bags.
A glass.
I was ready.
Half a minute later I was before Paula, my sister’s, bedroom door. The home-made sign said; ‘No entry except in emergencies - unless you’re cute!’
Ha.Ha.Ha. My sister is hilarious.
Begin stage 1 - Operation: Cosmetic Sabotage
I sidled in soundlessly. My sister’s desk was encrusted with layers of make up. I rummaged around in a sea of sprays, mountain of mascaras, endless eye shadows, until I found a lonely lip gloss in my sisters school bag. I recognised it to be her ‘old reliable’, her never fail weapon of distraction. Perrrrfect.
Carefully, I pulled out the nail glue. I heard my sister mutter something and froze.
-Pleasepleasepleaseplease-
She settled again. I breathed out. I unscrewed the lip gloss - it had this weird glittery wand thing in it - and squeezed out the glue into the sparkling gloop. When the glue bottle was half empty, I mixed it up with the wand and returned it to the bag. That will shut her up, I thought smugly. Next, I looked up at the rows of perfumes on Paula’s shelves, and to the small bottle I held at arms length. Swiftly, I poured a few drops of the stinking substance into every bottle. It was enough, I’ll assure you.
Stage 1 complete. My evilness knows no bounds.
I zipped out of Paula’s room and back into the hall. I turned to my parent’s room.
Inaudibly, I opened the door and crept in. My Dad’s snores made sure I wasn’t heard if I’d waltzed in playing rock music, but there was a reputation to uphold after all.
I glanced at Mum’s cosmetics, and smiled an incredibly devilish grin. Sneaking toward it, I spotted a blusher. Trying to smother my laughter, I knocked out the contents into a plastic bag in my pocket and replaced it with the permanent powder paint. Replacing it with exact precision (Mum has eyes like a hawk), I noted that it looked no different. This was going to be…interesting.
After that, it was Dad’s turn. His coat hung on the door hooks. I took it down and laid it flat on the floor. Taking out my snapshots and the rest of the glue, I stuck each photo securely on the back of his jacket and draped in over the chair. Dad always rushed to work every morning; he wouldn’t even notice until someone inconvenient pointed it out to him.
As I moved, my foot knocked Dad’s slippers. Picking one up, I slipped the Furby voice box into the sole. Every time Dad stepped, “Hi, will you be my fwend?” or “I wuv you!” would echo hauntingly around the room. By the time he’d walk to the end of the hall he’d be running.
Checking that everything looked untouched, I escaped from the room, grabbed my bags and stumbled down the stairs, clutching the last three items from my bag - the razor, bag and glass. On the final step, I stopped dead. A pair of evil eyes watched me from the darkness of the kitchen. Rex.
I don’t like dogs, but Mum adores them. And, of course, the dog she chooses is an evil, cunning, plotting, psychopathic, four-pawed canine mastermind that torments me at every given opportunity. But, as always, when she’s around it’s ‘her widdle babykins’. Ha.
“Rex, buzz off…” I whispered.
The dainty white poodle glared at me, sniffing.
Then….I was struck by inspiration!
Five minutes later I left the now hairless poodle tied to the banister, shivering in my wake, with the clumps of white hair in the bag. I abandoned the bag and razor somewhere I knew was safe for next year. Maybe I could make Paula a beard…
Now for the final stage. Grabbing the remotes to the TV and stereo, I pressed volume as high as it would go, and then bolted through the front door. I waited with bated breath. I’d waited a whole year for this!
I placed my last object, the glass, against the door and put my ear to it. Presently, I heard the screams, muffled mumbles, evil Furby voices and thumps that my wonderful mind had caused. I saw my Dad sprint into the living room as if running on burning coals, followed by Paula, who was covering her nose and pulling at her mouth. Mum came down soon after, too, and screamed when she saw he precious pooch. My heart swelled. Revenge was so, so sweet.
“MAX!!!!”
I turned and positively skipped to school, pleased with the results.
Yes, it’s me again. You may have wondered what happened when my family got their hands on me. Well, I’m not ashamed to tell you that the next day I came to school stinking, with red cheeks, stuck lips, talking shoes, no eyebrows and covered in photos.
But I will have my revenge. You wait ‘til next year…
Also considering putting up and writing some fanfictions, Sherlock being the first to come to mind...
To OC or not to OC? That is the question...
Trickster
April fools day. My favourite day of the entire calendar! The one day of the year when ludicrous pranks can be played on everyone you know without you getting into too much trouble. The one day when I, Maxine Helix, would prove my worth! The one day that you feel you could almost get away with a ‘Kick Me’ sign on the Head’s back unscathed. Almost.
That day was today!
My eyes snapped open as soon as my alarm started. I switched it off quickly. Why wake up everyone else when they were in the perfect state to be pranked?
I jumped up and pulled on my school skirt silently. A brief search unveiled a pair of socks and a much folded piece of paper. My trick list! I had been plotting since last year, when my mother switched my hair spray and I came to school with an afro that proceeded to eat seven combs. Matters were not helped when I opened my PE bag to reveal my older sisters ballet outfit, which, to everyone else’s amusement, I then had to wear on the football pitch. As I thought matters could not get worse, my dad then met me from school in his ancient 60’s disco kit.
This had nothing to do with me dying my sister’s hair green, putting a mouse in Mum’s boots and shaving my Dad’s eyebrows off the morning before. Such is revenge in the Helix household.
This year I was determined to return the favour.
I pulled out my specialist bag and opened it up. After much thought, I chose;
A small bottle of nail glue.
A bottle, ahem, eau de Lavatory. This was not metaphorical.
My Dad’s old electric razor.
A tub of unwashable red powder paint.
Some really embarrassing photos of Dad.
The voice box of my sister’s old Furby.
Two plastic bags.
A glass.
I was ready.
Half a minute later I was before Paula, my sister’s, bedroom door. The home-made sign said; ‘No entry except in emergencies - unless you’re cute!’
Ha.Ha.Ha. My sister is hilarious.
Begin stage 1 - Operation: Cosmetic Sabotage
I sidled in soundlessly. My sister’s desk was encrusted with layers of make up. I rummaged around in a sea of sprays, mountain of mascaras, endless eye shadows, until I found a lonely lip gloss in my sisters school bag. I recognised it to be her ‘old reliable’, her never fail weapon of distraction. Perrrrfect.
Carefully, I pulled out the nail glue. I heard my sister mutter something and froze.
-Pleasepleasepleaseplease-
She settled again. I breathed out. I unscrewed the lip gloss - it had this weird glittery wand thing in it - and squeezed out the glue into the sparkling gloop. When the glue bottle was half empty, I mixed it up with the wand and returned it to the bag. That will shut her up, I thought smugly. Next, I looked up at the rows of perfumes on Paula’s shelves, and to the small bottle I held at arms length. Swiftly, I poured a few drops of the stinking substance into every bottle. It was enough, I’ll assure you.
Stage 1 complete. My evilness knows no bounds.
I zipped out of Paula’s room and back into the hall. I turned to my parent’s room.
Inaudibly, I opened the door and crept in. My Dad’s snores made sure I wasn’t heard if I’d waltzed in playing rock music, but there was a reputation to uphold after all.
I glanced at Mum’s cosmetics, and smiled an incredibly devilish grin. Sneaking toward it, I spotted a blusher. Trying to smother my laughter, I knocked out the contents into a plastic bag in my pocket and replaced it with the permanent powder paint. Replacing it with exact precision (Mum has eyes like a hawk), I noted that it looked no different. This was going to be…interesting.
After that, it was Dad’s turn. His coat hung on the door hooks. I took it down and laid it flat on the floor. Taking out my snapshots and the rest of the glue, I stuck each photo securely on the back of his jacket and draped in over the chair. Dad always rushed to work every morning; he wouldn’t even notice until someone inconvenient pointed it out to him.
As I moved, my foot knocked Dad’s slippers. Picking one up, I slipped the Furby voice box into the sole. Every time Dad stepped, “Hi, will you be my fwend?” or “I wuv you!” would echo hauntingly around the room. By the time he’d walk to the end of the hall he’d be running.
Checking that everything looked untouched, I escaped from the room, grabbed my bags and stumbled down the stairs, clutching the last three items from my bag - the razor, bag and glass. On the final step, I stopped dead. A pair of evil eyes watched me from the darkness of the kitchen. Rex.
I don’t like dogs, but Mum adores them. And, of course, the dog she chooses is an evil, cunning, plotting, psychopathic, four-pawed canine mastermind that torments me at every given opportunity. But, as always, when she’s around it’s ‘her widdle babykins’. Ha.
“Rex, buzz off…” I whispered.
The dainty white poodle glared at me, sniffing.
Then….I was struck by inspiration!
Five minutes later I left the now hairless poodle tied to the banister, shivering in my wake, with the clumps of white hair in the bag. I abandoned the bag and razor somewhere I knew was safe for next year. Maybe I could make Paula a beard…
Now for the final stage. Grabbing the remotes to the TV and stereo, I pressed volume as high as it would go, and then bolted through the front door. I waited with bated breath. I’d waited a whole year for this!
I placed my last object, the glass, against the door and put my ear to it. Presently, I heard the screams, muffled mumbles, evil Furby voices and thumps that my wonderful mind had caused. I saw my Dad sprint into the living room as if running on burning coals, followed by Paula, who was covering her nose and pulling at her mouth. Mum came down soon after, too, and screamed when she saw he precious pooch. My heart swelled. Revenge was so, so sweet.
“MAX!!!!”
I turned and positively skipped to school, pleased with the results.
Yes, it’s me again. You may have wondered what happened when my family got their hands on me. Well, I’m not ashamed to tell you that the next day I came to school stinking, with red cheeks, stuck lips, talking shoes, no eyebrows and covered in photos.
But I will have my revenge. You wait ‘til next year…