Fifty Teef (R.I.P Squidge)

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Fifty Teef (R.I.P Squidge)

Post  R.I.K on Mon Oct 17, 2011 1:32 pm

I started writing this before Squidge's demise in thought that it'd be a nice short parody of what pass times would be like upon the ship. To think this will be Squidge's first and last story...
R.I.P Squidge
Yes Squidge, I do think you were a fantastic super hero
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The room was dark and wretched, soiled with grease, oil, fungi, blood, raw rotting meat and what could only be excrement. In one corner of the lightless room there was a rugged and filthy mattress on which slept a hulking green giant, one with tusks the size of knife blades and as sharp to boot. The creature’s muscles doubled the strongest man’s arm, drabbed in tatters and torn fabric laced with a gross stench, yet the beast’s breath was the worst, a stench so vilely pungent it would knock a grown man out. The giant’s green oily skin was coveted in scars, stitches and scabs with few small open wounds, some still bleeding.
The creature’s gaping maw moved to the rhythm of its heavy snoring, a hazy green mist escaping with every exhale which could only be guessed to be its gruesome breath. It snorted and grunted profusely as though subtlety and grace were nonexistent in the beast’s nature.
The room illuminated dimly as the shutter doors slid open and in the doorway’s wake stood a green runty child sized figure that stood proudly, arms crossed, head held high, its long dagger like nose protruding out into the air. It paused for a moment as though in glory of its ‘dynamic entry’ then hastily scurried over to the bedside of the beast screeching.
“‘Ey, Boss! Boss, lissen’ to meh, I’z got a kwestion!”
The slumbering behemoth did not budge, despite its grotesque bedside manner as it proceeded to grunt and moan.
The stunted greenskin continued its plea.
“Boss! Cummon, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!”
The little alien began to push and shove its groggy master in attempt to wake it, its efforts in vain as all the bigger greenskin did in return was grunt and moan louder, almost to a point of shouting in its sleep, shaking its fist half heartedly in the air before collapsing back onto itself.
The tiny green alien pulled back its arms and folded them across its chest, narrowed its eyes and exhaled harshly in annoyance. However in an instance its beady little red eyes widened and its mouth broadened into a wicked grin as though it had a cunning plan. In a flash it darted to the exit and left the room, shutter doors closed behind it, leaving the sleeping one in the dark.
Only minutes later the doors opened yet again and in the door way stood the recessive greenskin holding within its hands a large wooden box crudely closed shut with bent and battered nails. From the crevices between each plank that made up the box exhaled a steamy breath and beamed a fierce monstrous red glare. The box shook and rumbled as the beast within resisted its confines, unsettled within its prison trying relentlessly to escape. The alien holding the box bared a vicious and malicious smirk.
“Boooossss~... I’z gotz a surpize fer’ya...”
The little alien screeched, followed by a horrific growl coming from the box it held, shaking violently as the beast within tried to escape.

The little alien crept up behind his larger cousin unnoticed and had set the box right by the ‘bed’ side. With a claw hammer, stuffed in the waistband of the creature’s ragged trousers, it began to pull from the wooden box the crude nails.
Unawares the behemoth still slept, loudly, it scratched its rear as a mighty guff of flatulence escaped in a rotten brown mist. The mist disappeared into vapour but not before finding its way into one of the many crevices of the wooden box. The little alien had to hold its nose in between pulling out the nails; however the beast within the box began to shake wildly the tiny alien barely able to keep it still even with both hands pushing down atop the box. The planks creaked as the best charged forward again and again and again until the planks began to weaken, with one last push the beast broke free and what literally was a gaping maw lined with hundreds of teeth, two beady eyes and a pair of stunty legs leapt out and latched itself to the rear of the stinky Ork.
The Ork’s eyes spread wide open in split reaction to the sinking teeth of the squig in his arse. With a bestial roar the Ork rose to his feat, arms raised and fists clenched.
“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!”
The squig shook from side to side, as it showed no signs of letting go, as the Ork wildly shook his rear in effort to shake it off, shouting furiously.
The Grot laid back, legs kicking in the air, arms tightly wrapped around his stomach, mouth gaping wide writhing in laughter at the sheer spectacle of his master fighting what could have been his toughest foe as of yet.
Through a series of body slams the Ork finally shaken free of the angry squig. Beaten and bruised the creature scarpered for the door as fast as its two little legs could carry it. The Ork panted heavily as he held his rear in agony, blood seeping through the cracks in his fingers. He gave a long moan in pain and pleasure after the beast had ran, somewhat similar to the sensation of ripping off a plaster... only bigger.
The Ork shuffled upright to meet the gaze of the sniggering Grot, who tried his best to hold back the snickering laughs and his pointing finger. All too well that he managed to hold it all back otherwise Ork would have figured out what exactly had happened. The Ork raised his hand to the air and with his pinky finger he jabbed it directly into his ear, digging deeper whilst twisting and turning as though in attempt to scratch the inside of his skull. Any further and he would have likely prodded his brain. Inquisitively the Ork raised an eyebrow and questioned the Grot.
“Squidge... Whut yu’doin’ in ‘ere?”
“Eerrr... Nuffin, Boss!” Answered the Grot nervously in hope for his dear life that he bluffed his way out of a good hiding, and he did.
“Oh... A’ight, remembah, keep da bloody doorz clozed nex’ time!”
“Eerh, yes Boss!” The Grot gave the ork a nervous grin and nodded as fast as his neck could bear to keep a hold of his head.
“So, errrhhh... Whut ya want?”
“Boss, I has a kwestion!”
“... Hrm, ugh, yeh?” The ork had said distracted by the pain whilst rubbing his sore behind.
“Why does Boss’ boss an’ ‘is mates call you Ork?”
“Urrrgggghhhh... Cause I told ‘em to.” Concentration spread momentarily across the ork’s face.
“Yeh, but why!? You’re ‘Boss’”
“Cause I’m’an Ork.”
“... Yeh, but-”
“Got a problem wit’ dat!?”
“No! No, Boss, no! I wuz jus’ wunderin’, s’all. I mean, you got anudda name, right?”
“Roight”
“Den why dey not call you dat?”
“Cuz all Oomans ‘ave ever dun iz called me Ork. So I jus’ went wiff it as I am an ork. See da logikz?”
“Wow, Boss! You’re clevva!” Said the gretchin laced with sarcasm.
“Zoggin’ roight I’m clevva, tho’ I do prefer ‘kunnin’. Squidge, why’z you so inq- inquiz- er, koorius?”
“Well I wunna know evereefing about you, Boss!”

The ork then looked at his little pet grot with an eyebrow raised, as though in query of his curiosity. However with a shrug the ork had batted away the thought and slumped down onto his crude mattress. With a scratch of his head the ork then replied.
“Who doezn’t? I’m da zoggin’ prophet of all dat iz orky! I’ll tell ya a few stories, Squidge, onez dat’ll blow yer mind back when I wuz a yoof back on dat ‘tundrah planet’... But first, get me a tray o’ fungus brew!”
“Can’t Boss, Boss’ boss sed dat yur not allowed anymoar!”
“WHHATT!?” The ork bellowed in a painfully angry and shocked tone, deafening the gretchin to which Squidge reacted to by covering his pointy ears.
“Not my fault Boss! Boss’ boss sed dat yur costin’im too much ‘credz’ in ‘Ork Beer’!”
“Oh, eeerrrrhhhhhh...”
The ork then began to rummage around in what were the cess pit pockets of his beaten trousers. With the sound of numerous metallic clinking and moist and strange squishing the ork pulled from it a large ork ‘toof’, similar to his own, and handed it to the little gretchin to which he had received with two open palms and a sneaky looking smirk.
Ork continued.
“Giv’ dat to mah boss, tell ‘im dat’ll covva da expensez...”
“But Boss, it’z not ennuff!” The grot said with a cheeky grin.
“Whhat!? ‘Ow much iz a tray?”
“Eerrrrr... I dunno, about... Fifty teef!”
“YOU WHAT!? I can get a trukk fer eight!”

Meanwhile:
“Excuse me, Seneschal? Pardon me, sir, but you seem a little lost...”
“Eerh, what? Oh... Oh, no it is nothing... I just got a sudden feeling of despair that all is not right in the universe... Get back to work, John!”
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The end was a little rushed due to a mixture of writers block and sheer urgency.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed.
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R.I.K

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Re: Fifty Teef (R.I.P Squidge)

Post  z4carlo on Sun Oct 23, 2011 10:52 am

finally got round to reading this tonight. is preaty funny, gona write anymore?
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Re: Fifty Teef (R.I.P Squidge)

Post  R.I.K on Mon Oct 24, 2011 12:57 am

Thanks and no I'm not. I only intended to write a short story. I will probably write something else though depending on the recent circumstances concerning Ork's heavy duty reconstructive surgery and the priest's head.
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