Had to do this for english. Thought I'd share.
Choppin Wood and his Band of Pessimistic Men
Written by Collin Lysford
A Parody of Robin Hood
*If you can read this you don’t need glasses. Either that or you’re wearing them, I suppose. Of course, I haven’t even started on contacts….*
“That’s strange…” Choppin Wood remarked as he walked through Surely Wood forest. He gestured toward a nearby river. “The brook is only half full.”
“More like half empty,” one of Choppin’s men, Bob, remarked. He was going to continue with a stream of irrational complaints but was interrupted by a flash of movement: a deer, going to take a drink in the brook.
Completely forgetting the low water level in the brook as it had no plot significance, Choppin cried joyfully “A deer!” (Well, joyfully but quietly. Yes, it’s possible.) “We’ll have venison for dinner tonight!”
“I bet it’s poisoned,” Bob muttered. Bob was always moping
because he had absolutely no interesting qualities.
“Or it has rabies,” Big John added. Big John was Choppin’s right hand man: or, more accurately, his right thigh man, as he was only two and a half feet tall.
“Deer don’t get rabies, nitwit,” Choppin idly retorted while focusing
on his potential meal.
“They can if it’s deer rabies,” Big John lamely replied, fully aware he
lost the verbal duel.
The deer bent down to take a sip of water, and Choppin took his shot. It hit, of course, because Choppin was a master with the bow: in fact, Bowmanship was his major at college. A deer fawn, named Bambi in the language of the deer (which Choppin had learned at the aforementioned college) watched horrified in a nearby bush. Fortunately, the young deer’s sorrow was short-lived, as she was promptly shot though the head by Choppin.
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As Bob roasted both the dead deer and chestnuts over an open fire in a completely average fashion, Choppin was talking to the rest of his not at all merry men, doing his best to steer the conversation from death (with little success).
“So guys, did you hear about this new archery competition being held tomorrow? Word is, whoever wins get the hand of Maid Marryme.”
“Why does it matter?” Bob moaned. “Why does anything matter? We’re all just going to be dust in the wind.”
Big John, being able to talk about non-depressing things
(sometimes) asked Choppin, “Why don’t you just ask for her hand?”
“Well,” Choppin began, “It’s a long story…” Every one of Choppin’s men groaned.
"Full of pain and suffering…” At this, the men fell silent and gathered in a circle around Choppin.
“That all began when I had just graduated from Saxon Tech.”
Choppin cleared his throat and said, “I was walking around with my new diploma and graduation bow. However, the Sheriff of Ladedadingham…”
Big John interrupted. “Ladedadingham?”
“They used to serve ale at town naming ceremonies,” Choppin explained. “Anyway, the Sheriff of Ladedadingham told me he didn’t like me,” Choppin adopted a mocking tone, “’Endangering the lives of our citizens by having a weapon drawn during peace time’ and asked me to leave. I laughed and replied ‘When pigs fly!’”
“What happened then?” Bob inquired in his average voice.
“The French people were playing with their cannons at the time, and a large sow hit him in the face. Gave him quite a bruise, it did. Then, he took all my worldly, otherworldy, and disneyworldly possessions and made me leave Ladedadingham for good.”
“Then what happened?” One of Choppin’s men who wasn’t important enough for a name asked.
“Then, “Choppin smiled, “I met Big John.”
“I met Choppin here in Surely Wood forest, when we both crossed a bridge arrow thin.” Big John started.
“Neither of us was willing to back down, “ Choppin continued. “But in the end it didn’t matter.”
“I ran between his legs,” Big John confessed. “Then I decided to join Choppin.”
“Why?” Bob averagely wondered.
“Because,” Choppin replied rather pompously, “I’m the one who can see over counters.”
“When I talk, the cashiers just think I’m a ghost…” Big John mumbled.
“And that’s the story.” Choppin finished. The men groaned, obviously displeased with the small amount of suffering in Choppin’s story. “Now, let’s rest up for that competition tomorrow.”
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Choppin awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing, his first thought being “I didn’t know we had a rooster.” After quick analysis, Choppin determined that is was Big John dreaming some obviously rooster-related dream. Choppin kicked his sleeping companion in the side. “Wake up, stupid.”
Big John complied, although as he got up he said, “You didn’t have
to kick me.”
“Well you didn’t have to dream you were a rooster.” A red flush overcame Big John’s face and he started making breakfast.
The noise of the conversation awoke Bob from his dream of
whatever average people dream about. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked Big John. “I bet it’s terrible.”
“Actually, it’s Pop-Tart’s, lightly toasted.”
“How did you toast Pop-Tart’s if toasters haven’t been invented yet?”
“How did you know what a toaster was?” Big John challenged.
“I never thought of that,” Bob replied, and was whisked away into a time paradox, never to be seen or heard again.
“Heh heh heh,” Big John chuckled, as Choppin and his crew began eating the Pop-Tarts.
After breakfast, Choppin began rummaging through a box of costumes he had for some obscure reason, seeking a disguise. He shortly found suitable garments, and changed.
Choppin’s choice of attire was surprising, to say the least. A neon pink hood covered his head, and a black t-shirt declared he was a “cool dude!” He also wore parachute pants with glitter covering every open inch.
Big John eyed the disguise. “The bunny slippers are a bit overboard, sir.”
“I know, but...” He smiled sheepishly. “They’re just so dang comfy!” Choppin dashed off toward Ladedadingham.
“How articulate,” Big John muttered as he followed Choppin as fast as his short legs would take him.
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Big John had long since given up on walking, and instead sat awkwardly on Choppin’s back. As they began descending down a long hill, Choppin gestured to the bottom of the slope (dismounting Big John in the process.) “Look! It’s Ladedadingham!”
The pair began running quickly down the hill. After tripping over a log concealed in the foliage, the pair began rolling down the hill. The uncontrollable decent continued right up into the painful stop at Ladedadingham’s gate.
“Okay, Choppin,” Big John said. “You got a will to win?”
“Check.”
“You got the courage to beat everyone else?”
“Check.”
“You got your bow?”
“Umm…..” Choppin frantically searched his pockets. “Not check.”
Big John sighed and ran off, looking for an armory. Instead, he found a bow sitting on a stone in front of a churchyard. After looking around for witnesses and finding none, Big John pilfered the bow. However, as he made off with the weapon, he was found by a townsperson.
“Did you take that bow from the stone?” The townsperson asked.
“Umm….yeah,” Big John replied.
“Well, that means you’re going to be King of all England!”
“Really?” Excitement lit up Big John’s face.
“Of course not! But your expression…that was priceless!” The townsperson succumbed to fits of laughter. Big John used the opportunity to bring the bow back to Choppin.
The competition was not what either of the men had expected. Besides Choppin, there was an old man balancing on a cane, a young boy with a bow bigger then he was, and a raccoon. “Well,” Choppin remarked, “This ought to be…interesting.”
The Sheriff of Ladedadingham rang a bell and yelled, “The archery competition will now begin!” At the loud noise, the old man had a heart attack and promptly died. “I guess it’s your turn, then,” the sheriff said, pointing at the little boy. To be fair, he really tried, but ended up falling over and scraping his knee.
As the young boy ran off crying, the raccoon attempted to pick up the bow. When it discovered its lack of thumbs a major hindrance, it walked off in disgust. Choppin found himself the only archer. He hit a bulls-eye and won.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Big John mumbled.
Choppin walked up to Maid Marryme. “So, I understand we’re going to get hitched?”
“Of course not,” Maid Marryme twittered. “I took a vow of chastity.”
“What? But I thought the prize of the competition was your hand!”
“It is,” Maid Marryme replied, as she gave Choppin her hand; the right one, to be exact.
Choppin sighed. “Let’s go home, Big John.”
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Choppin and his men went to the bar for a drink. The manager gave them their regular stools (and Big John his regular stepladder.)
“What do we do now?” One of Choppin’s men asked.
“Gentleman, I have a plan.” Choppin replied. “We will start…a rock band!”
“They probably won’t like us,” the same man said.
“Nonsense! They’ll love us!”
“But what if our instruments are out of tune?”
“Don’t worry; I got us top of the line equipment!”
“Well, we could still be eaten by bears.”
Choppin ignored the comment. “So, who’s with me?” No one raised their hand. Choppin glared. “Who wants to eat tonight?” The men reluctantly raised their hands.
And so, Choppin’s men formed a rock band. Actually, it did quite well. Their first single was a hit! However, they could not enjoy the fame for long, as they were shortly after eaten by bears.
The End.
Choppin Wood and his Band of Pessimistic Men
Written by Collin Lysford
A Parody of Robin Hood
*If you can read this you don’t need glasses. Either that or you’re wearing them, I suppose. Of course, I haven’t even started on contacts….*
“That’s strange…” Choppin Wood remarked as he walked through Surely Wood forest. He gestured toward a nearby river. “The brook is only half full.”
“More like half empty,” one of Choppin’s men, Bob, remarked. He was going to continue with a stream of irrational complaints but was interrupted by a flash of movement: a deer, going to take a drink in the brook.
Completely forgetting the low water level in the brook as it had no plot significance, Choppin cried joyfully “A deer!” (Well, joyfully but quietly. Yes, it’s possible.) “We’ll have venison for dinner tonight!”
“I bet it’s poisoned,” Bob muttered. Bob was always moping
because he had absolutely no interesting qualities.
“Or it has rabies,” Big John added. Big John was Choppin’s right hand man: or, more accurately, his right thigh man, as he was only two and a half feet tall.
“Deer don’t get rabies, nitwit,” Choppin idly retorted while focusing
on his potential meal.
“They can if it’s deer rabies,” Big John lamely replied, fully aware he
lost the verbal duel.
The deer bent down to take a sip of water, and Choppin took his shot. It hit, of course, because Choppin was a master with the bow: in fact, Bowmanship was his major at college. A deer fawn, named Bambi in the language of the deer (which Choppin had learned at the aforementioned college) watched horrified in a nearby bush. Fortunately, the young deer’s sorrow was short-lived, as she was promptly shot though the head by Choppin.
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As Bob roasted both the dead deer and chestnuts over an open fire in a completely average fashion, Choppin was talking to the rest of his not at all merry men, doing his best to steer the conversation from death (with little success).
“So guys, did you hear about this new archery competition being held tomorrow? Word is, whoever wins get the hand of Maid Marryme.”
“Why does it matter?” Bob moaned. “Why does anything matter? We’re all just going to be dust in the wind.”
Big John, being able to talk about non-depressing things
(sometimes) asked Choppin, “Why don’t you just ask for her hand?”
“Well,” Choppin began, “It’s a long story…” Every one of Choppin’s men groaned.
"Full of pain and suffering…” At this, the men fell silent and gathered in a circle around Choppin.
“That all began when I had just graduated from Saxon Tech.”
Choppin cleared his throat and said, “I was walking around with my new diploma and graduation bow. However, the Sheriff of Ladedadingham…”
Big John interrupted. “Ladedadingham?”
“They used to serve ale at town naming ceremonies,” Choppin explained. “Anyway, the Sheriff of Ladedadingham told me he didn’t like me,” Choppin adopted a mocking tone, “’Endangering the lives of our citizens by having a weapon drawn during peace time’ and asked me to leave. I laughed and replied ‘When pigs fly!’”
“What happened then?” Bob inquired in his average voice.
“The French people were playing with their cannons at the time, and a large sow hit him in the face. Gave him quite a bruise, it did. Then, he took all my worldly, otherworldy, and disneyworldly possessions and made me leave Ladedadingham for good.”
“Then what happened?” One of Choppin’s men who wasn’t important enough for a name asked.
“Then, “Choppin smiled, “I met Big John.”
“I met Choppin here in Surely Wood forest, when we both crossed a bridge arrow thin.” Big John started.
“Neither of us was willing to back down, “ Choppin continued. “But in the end it didn’t matter.”
“I ran between his legs,” Big John confessed. “Then I decided to join Choppin.”
“Why?” Bob averagely wondered.
“Because,” Choppin replied rather pompously, “I’m the one who can see over counters.”
“When I talk, the cashiers just think I’m a ghost…” Big John mumbled.
“And that’s the story.” Choppin finished. The men groaned, obviously displeased with the small amount of suffering in Choppin’s story. “Now, let’s rest up for that competition tomorrow.”
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Choppin awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing, his first thought being “I didn’t know we had a rooster.” After quick analysis, Choppin determined that is was Big John dreaming some obviously rooster-related dream. Choppin kicked his sleeping companion in the side. “Wake up, stupid.”
Big John complied, although as he got up he said, “You didn’t have
to kick me.”
“Well you didn’t have to dream you were a rooster.” A red flush overcame Big John’s face and he started making breakfast.
The noise of the conversation awoke Bob from his dream of
whatever average people dream about. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked Big John. “I bet it’s terrible.”
“Actually, it’s Pop-Tart’s, lightly toasted.”
“How did you toast Pop-Tart’s if toasters haven’t been invented yet?”
“How did you know what a toaster was?” Big John challenged.
“I never thought of that,” Bob replied, and was whisked away into a time paradox, never to be seen or heard again.
“Heh heh heh,” Big John chuckled, as Choppin and his crew began eating the Pop-Tarts.
After breakfast, Choppin began rummaging through a box of costumes he had for some obscure reason, seeking a disguise. He shortly found suitable garments, and changed.
Choppin’s choice of attire was surprising, to say the least. A neon pink hood covered his head, and a black t-shirt declared he was a “cool dude!” He also wore parachute pants with glitter covering every open inch.
Big John eyed the disguise. “The bunny slippers are a bit overboard, sir.”
“I know, but...” He smiled sheepishly. “They’re just so dang comfy!” Choppin dashed off toward Ladedadingham.
“How articulate,” Big John muttered as he followed Choppin as fast as his short legs would take him.
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Big John had long since given up on walking, and instead sat awkwardly on Choppin’s back. As they began descending down a long hill, Choppin gestured to the bottom of the slope (dismounting Big John in the process.) “Look! It’s Ladedadingham!”
The pair began running quickly down the hill. After tripping over a log concealed in the foliage, the pair began rolling down the hill. The uncontrollable decent continued right up into the painful stop at Ladedadingham’s gate.
“Okay, Choppin,” Big John said. “You got a will to win?”
“Check.”
“You got the courage to beat everyone else?”
“Check.”
“You got your bow?”
“Umm…..” Choppin frantically searched his pockets. “Not check.”
Big John sighed and ran off, looking for an armory. Instead, he found a bow sitting on a stone in front of a churchyard. After looking around for witnesses and finding none, Big John pilfered the bow. However, as he made off with the weapon, he was found by a townsperson.
“Did you take that bow from the stone?” The townsperson asked.
“Umm….yeah,” Big John replied.
“Well, that means you’re going to be King of all England!”
“Really?” Excitement lit up Big John’s face.
“Of course not! But your expression…that was priceless!” The townsperson succumbed to fits of laughter. Big John used the opportunity to bring the bow back to Choppin.
The competition was not what either of the men had expected. Besides Choppin, there was an old man balancing on a cane, a young boy with a bow bigger then he was, and a raccoon. “Well,” Choppin remarked, “This ought to be…interesting.”
The Sheriff of Ladedadingham rang a bell and yelled, “The archery competition will now begin!” At the loud noise, the old man had a heart attack and promptly died. “I guess it’s your turn, then,” the sheriff said, pointing at the little boy. To be fair, he really tried, but ended up falling over and scraping his knee.
As the young boy ran off crying, the raccoon attempted to pick up the bow. When it discovered its lack of thumbs a major hindrance, it walked off in disgust. Choppin found himself the only archer. He hit a bulls-eye and won.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Big John mumbled.
Choppin walked up to Maid Marryme. “So, I understand we’re going to get hitched?”
“Of course not,” Maid Marryme twittered. “I took a vow of chastity.”
“What? But I thought the prize of the competition was your hand!”
“It is,” Maid Marryme replied, as she gave Choppin her hand; the right one, to be exact.
Choppin sighed. “Let’s go home, Big John.”
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Choppin and his men went to the bar for a drink. The manager gave them their regular stools (and Big John his regular stepladder.)
“What do we do now?” One of Choppin’s men asked.
“Gentleman, I have a plan.” Choppin replied. “We will start…a rock band!”
“They probably won’t like us,” the same man said.
“Nonsense! They’ll love us!”
“But what if our instruments are out of tune?”
“Don’t worry; I got us top of the line equipment!”
“Well, we could still be eaten by bears.”
Choppin ignored the comment. “So, who’s with me?” No one raised their hand. Choppin glared. “Who wants to eat tonight?” The men reluctantly raised their hands.
And so, Choppin’s men formed a rock band. Actually, it did quite well. Their first single was a hit! However, they could not enjoy the fame for long, as they were shortly after eaten by bears.
The End.
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