So once upon a time i wrote a story. And it was rather odd. And very short. And Ood is the coolest name ever. If you happen to know someone who goes by the name Ood, do tell. And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! The Story!
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I awoke to find myself in a strange place. A honking noise on my left and the smell of heating grease greeted me as it wafted by, away from the restaurant across the street. I had a tingly, stretched out feeling that comes after doing too much yoga. I seemed to be in the air which was a problem, but I was only about four feet up - my head facing towards the street; my back and legs were squashed up against a cold, hard, rough slab of something behind me. As a breeze drifted by I flopped over and my legs fluttered free. I was able to see them for the first time with my seemingly non-existent eyes.
They seemed to now be one thing. A long thing, pale yellow and slightly see through, stamped with great big, blocky, ugly, words that for some reason I could not read. How odd. There were only two possible explanations: I needed glasses or I hit my head pretty hard doing something. A car whizzed by splattering me slightly with the foul substance found out on the road after a snow or rain shower. Urgh, that would take ages to get out of my hair! Another car drove by, this time slowing down, oh great, I thought, this one will help me!
"Hello!" I yelled. The window rolled down. "Help!" An arm came out, and with it zoomed a white missile, coming straight at me. "Uh oh," I thought, "My hair's not going to survive this one!" And the brown liquid drenched me, head to fluttery yellow thing. "But tha - But that's littering... - on me!"
At about this time I became severely mad. And slightly confused. Why couldn't I move; what was the deal with my legs? Then to top that off, where was I? I could be anywhere: Coeur D'Alene, Idaho; London, England; or Frankfort, Kentucky. The once gentle breeze had turned into a blustery fowl thing that people were running to get away from. However, in my strange location, I was protected. I heard the sound of footsteps behind me; I tried to move my head. For some odd reason I couldn't, then again, I thought, this day hasn't really gone according to normal standards. The steps continued closer and closer towards me. I could hear their voices. One of them gasped.
"Michelle, don't look! It's hideous!"
"Um, excuse me", I tried to say, "I know my hair looks bad and everything, but please!" On second thought I added, "And a little help would be nice!"
I heard new voices join the crowd of horrified bystanders. "Excuse me, FBI coming through. Please move ma'am!" The voiced moved closer, as did the smell of rot, and rat, and sweaty mittens.
Then a gust of excited air turned me over and it occurred to me that I wasn't exactly the self I used to know, but a long strand of caution tape, uselessly trying to protect the dead body lying below.
