Scrawl-Shorts: Untitled by Anonymous

Back in the days when great kings ruled ___ and the people lived in peace and prosperity, a young man named ___ worked as an apprentice for a small town blacksmith. ___ had lived in ___ all his life and was studiously preparing to enter the town's blacksmithing guild. He was proficient in the use of virtually every smithing tool available to the common ___ and had gained extensive knowledge of metal working through his mentor. It was often said that ___ was the most talented blacksmith in all of ___.

One day, ___'s work was interrupted when a caravan of King ___'s lords made their way through town, accompanied by the king's enchanting daughter, ___. ___ recoiled into the shadows of his master's shop, afraid that his common ___ would impress poorly on her. Despite his attempts at invisibility, ___ noticed him and ordered the procession to a halt.

___ was terrified. Never before in his life had anyone of such high standing taken notice of him. ___ felt a queasiness unlike any experience he'd ever had. ___ approached him with a ___ look in her eyes.

"What is your name, commoner?" she asked.

"___," said ___, with obvious difficulty.

"How peculiar," mused ___, " How very peculiar."

___ was confused by her remark and wished to inquire further, but she had already returned to the ___ of the caravan and had ordered the ___ to continue their route to the castle. ___ watched the procession fade into a cloud of dust over the horizon, ___s of ___ spinning through his head.

* ** *** ** *

The next day, ___ woke early to find a customer already waiting in his master's shop. He hurriedly threw a ___ over his shoulders and went to greet the visitor. As he approached, he saw an unfamiliar face. The man before him had the appearance of a ___ and his partially concealed face was matted with hair.

Shaking the apprehension from his head, ___ smiled and introduced himself.

"Hello, stranger," he said, "Welcome to our ___ shop, what can I do for you?"

The man regarded him with little interest and seemed to be examining the walls carefully.

"I'm sorry, my name is ____, the blacksmith's ___. If you need ___ goods, we can ___ you immaculate ___ ___s, ___s, and ___s."

The man cocked his head and said, "Eh?" ___ took a deep breath and was about to repeat himself when the man interrupted, "Too few words in your sentence, son. You're being horribly vague."

"Whatever do you mean sir?" asked ___.

"It's not your fault, though, I suppose. He never even told you what your name is."

"My ___?"

"Yes, you see, no one in this part of the country has been told their names. I believe he would have called you ___."

"Who are you talking about?" asked ___, sensing a heavy presence in the ___ of the room.

The man leaned closer and winked knowingly. "The author," he whispered, "No one knows exactly who he is or what he does, but he's out there somewhere, keeping us all in the dark.

"Who are you?" choked, ___.

"Call me Omen. I'm a messenger from beyond the page and I carry an alarming truth about yourself." ___ waited for a minute or so before a wickedly smiling Omen resumed his oratory. "You are not a commoner as your appearance suggests. No, your veins flow thick with the blood of royalty. You are destined to free this land of the tyrannical author's judgement. You are ___, the long believed dead son of king --."

Omen was assaulted mid-sentence by a giant pencil that came crashing though the roof of the shop. There was a scream, and a blur of pink as rubber shavings ___ into the air. Within seconds, all that was left of this strange visitor was a ___ and a shallow crater in the softened earth.

___ stared, gaping at the ___ hole in the roof. He had scarcely ___ his wits when a ___ dressed minstrel pranced into the shop, singing alarmingly off key.

Across the ___ and ___ the land,
tra la __ laaaa
Lies the answer to all the ___ that are now at hand
fra __ la laaaa
And if you want to ___ your family,
And who would not want to know?
You'll need song and verse to ___ you company
Hey nonny nonny, ho!

___ screamed in anguish at the minstrel's tasteless rhyme and rhythm. At that instant, a ___ of carnivorous fliegefisch swam into the ___ and hastily devoured the deranged poet. The crunching was a welcome relief to minstrel's atonal song, and ___ found it difficult to keep from tapping his foot. ___, the fire-breathing orca joined the ___ with his magical harmonica and ___, the paraplegic bandicoot, played a carefree ___ on her fiddle....

* ** *** ** *

___ woke to find himself sitting in an armchair. He was ___ on all sides by an ethereal ___ of black with no ___ of who he was or what had happened to him. He sat for what may have been days, contemplating the meaning of his predicament when a large noodle fell from nowhere and ___ with a *plip* onto his lap.

"What the ___ is going on here!" cried ___. ___s streamed down his face and moistened the collar of a purple and green ___ that he didn't remember ever having owned. Nothing made sense. His own existence, his bright future all seemed ___ now. There was no use. He'd never even ___ of bandicoots or fliegefisch before. ___? ___? ___ the ___? Such strange names. What in the world was wrong with him?

The noodle on his lap wiggled warmly and began changing shape before ___'s eyes. The noodle danced into the ___ with a flare of pirouettes and flourishes, growing ever so slightly with each motion. ___ looked on in amazement as it transformed into a bizarre human form. It ___ in front of him like a sculpted lump of creamed potatoes.

"Who are you?" demanded ___.

The ___ made a strange gesture then collapsed, reformed, and shrugged.

___ held back for a moment while studying the ___ before him. It looked harmless but instinct warned him to not ___ it. "Who am I?" asked ___, cautiously.

The figure flopped about like a ___ of over-cooked broccoli and it became apparent to ___ that it was shaking its head rather dramatically. ___ was frustrated at his being unable to understand any of this and was startled when the shambling clump of noodle began floating away. Without thinking, he yelled out, "Who was Omen?"

The pile spun around, coming slightly undone as it did, and advanced menacingly towards ___. He panicked, and in that instant, the answer came. The being in front of him was the author! The anonymous entity with the almighty pencil! He was so thrilled at his discovery that he nearly forgot all the implications this had. He ducked as an eraser swished past his head and swept his cozy ___ armchair into oblivion. ___ ran for cover, but discovered quickly that ethereal voids have little in the way of cover. A chill flashed in the palm of his hand and he looked down to see a well crafted fork gleaming in an unseen light. He was the people's only hope. He spun around as the noodle-thing charged and with a triumphant, "Huzzah!" jabbed the fork deep into its squishy mass. It was the most delicious entity he had ever tasted and he ___ relentlessly until all that remained was a small, quivering meatball. It was scrumptious.

___ looked about, satisfied that the ___ reign of the anonymous author had been ended. He smiled at the fork and rubbed the ___ with his thumb. It disappeared. Suddenly, the void ___ as well. Nothing collapsed leaving less than nothing in its wake. ___ realized too late the eating the author had been a grave error. Everything he knew had existed in the ___'s mind, and that was now digesting in his ___. His own thoughts ___ fading ___ nothingness. What _ stupid ____ idea. ___ eat ___ __ dead __ ___ noodle ____, ____ ah __ ____ ___ crap ___. ___ _____ __ ____ ___ ____.

___ ___