Tapioca Tundra
What does that title have to do with anything? Who cares?
Not me, and I'm the author.
The gripping saga that began with Writing Wrongs continues...
By Ellen Barnhart
"Where were we?" Della asked the Monkees
and her cousin, Lola, who were lounging around the pad.
"Some sort of cliffhanger, I think," Peter hazarded.
Davy got a mental light bulb, but when he swiped
at it, it buzzed away and he was too busy chasing it to share his idea
with the group. Pity.
Micky held up his box with the mysterious-yet-begging-to-be-pushed
button. "I think it had something to do with this."
Mike pouted, causing Della's train of thought to
derail yet again. "I haven't said anything yet."
Lola sighed. "Neither have I."
Della scowled at everyone. "Are we through?
Thank you. Now, we have a story to get on with. What did the
button thingy do?"
Bobby Sherman wandered past the window again with
bleach blond hair and even tighter shorts and a worse tan, but Della was
too deeply involved in the mystery of the box and trying to jump start
what was becoming a rather boring story. That is, until a startling
event brought them out of their reverie.
Davy, in wild pursuit of his mental light bulb,
TRIPPED over Mr. Schnieder, now safe from international terrorist attack,
and fell right on Micky's box, crushing it horribly. On a lighter
note, he did catch the bulb, but didn't know what to do with it, so he
threw it away.
Della surveyed the wreckage while Micky crawled
into his favorite closet for a good cry. "Well, that's the end of
that."
Meanwhile, back at the ranch...
"Mama, how am I ever gonna get married if ya keep
shootin' all mah boyfriends?" Cousin Lucy Nesmith asked as she primped
in front of a mirror.
"You shut your mouth," Aunt Kate muttered and stroked
her shotgun.
"WHAT," Mike shouted, "was THAT all about?"
He was a little miffed that his family would be the object of a seriously
twisted up sense of humor, but then remembered that he was the mind behind
"Elephant Parts" and had no right to call anyone's sense of humor strange.
Della took a moment to try to understand the previous
sentence, then went back to sculpting Mike's likeness in macaroni.
"Ah'm sure Ah just don't know," she drawled. Mike pouted again and
Della giggled inanely.
Lola tried to lure Micky out of his closet with
a pastrami sandwich. "Here, leezard, leezard, leezard..."
Micky poked his head around the door and glared
at Lola. "Who are you calling a lizard?" he demanded, taking her
sandwich and disappearing back into the closet. Lola pouted.
Peter, tired of being under represented in this
bizarre tale (although I don't know why, it would probably be better to
be NOT noticed around here) started poking around the wreckage of the black
box. Unlike airplane black boxes, it was black, not orange.
Except, of course, for the big... red... button. A blinding flash
of light, um... blinded everyone and left the pad disturbingly empty...
"Where are we?" Micky moaned, not bothering
to open his eyes and look around, especially if he could get someone else
to do it for him. "My legs! I can't feel my legs!" he cried
out.
"Those are mine," Mike grumbled. He brushed
himself off and looked around. They were on his Aunt Kate's little
ranch. Well, it used to be a little ranch. Now it was a big
honkin' oil well, with one of those nifty towers and everything.
Mike sighed. "I suppose this explains the weird flashback."
"Howdy, y'all," Cousin Lucy called to the moderately
comatose group of musicians and interlopers. She fluttered her eyelashes
and tried to look like the definition of "coquettish".
What will happen in the next exciting chapter!?
Who cares!?
And who said anything about exciting!? Oh, wait... I did.
Chapter One:
Writing Wrongs
Chapter Two:
Alternate Title
Back to the Fanfic
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