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    The H.Unger Games Gone Wild A Parody
    The H.Unger Games Gone Wild A Parody
    The H.Unger Games Gone Wild A Parody
    Ebook101 pages1 hour

    The H.Unger Games Gone Wild A Parody

    By Sue Knott

    3/5

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    About this ebook

    REVIEW EXCERPTS from John Green, AMAZON TOP 1000 REVIEWER, VINETM VOICE:
    "...this was funny! And I don't just mean "heh, got in a good one" funny, more like "lol- they nailed it" funny...this is a YA parody there's no actual shagging going on, but...it's pretty comical! ...some very witty satire here...it'll put a smile on your face."

    DESCRIPTION:
    Phatness Evermean finds herself volunteering for the Games on Infinite Justice Day (slogan: Sticking It To The Revolting Districts For Infinity) -- only to be partnered with clever, Kneader Malarky. (You could almost believe he's a decent human being, if there was such a thing in PanAm.) Phatness trusts no one except perhaps, her hunting partner, Windy, and her Games stylist, Sinner. (Where would a girl be if she didn't have a stylist she could trust?)

    Kneader turns out to be a boy to die for -- but the one person who really needs to understand this, hasn't got a clue. But, that Malarky boy is a clever one. He just may win Phatness's companionship...one way or another. (Watch out Phatness, you may be outmatched!)

    Phatness exudes a beauty heretofore unknown to the Capitol District, adding an entirely new dimension to the H. Unger Games (named for the persnickety inventor of the Games, Helix Unger). There's no need for real arrows when cupid's are so much more accurate and just as deadly.

    (While the content is sometimes slightly suggestive, there is no sex in this parody, not that parents who would let their kids read such violent books as "The Hunger Games" would care.)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSue Knott
    Release dateJan 10, 2013
    ISBN9780988559615
    The H.Unger Games Gone Wild A Parody
    Author

    Sue Knott

    Sue Knott is the doting mother of a teen son and the long-suffering wife of an equally long-suffering (but much crankier) husband. She has also been “mom” to a bunny (now deceased) and an extremely energetic pooch.She has had a varied and successful career as an advertising copywriter. She has lived in Pittsburgh, PA; NYC; LaCrosse, WI; Scranton, PA; and currently makes her home in upstate NY. Occasionally she tries her hand at stand-up comedy, though she is in complete and total terror whenever she takes the stage.Ms. Knott knows she must do some wild and whacky things to promote her books and is totally dreading putting herself “out there” in the public eye. She asks everyone to please try to overlook her bulges and wrinkles. (Sun damage from the ‘70s...who knew?)Sue is an avid gardener and wishes she had time to pursue craft projects (or even just to clean her house). She also desperately wishes for you to post reviews and tell all your friends about her book(s).Sue Knott sincerely hopes that the author of the book that inspired her parody does not in any way take personal offense. Sue offers her lampooning with great admiration for the empire said author has built and with the affection she believes is due every human being. (Truth be told, Sue’s sarcastic wit is much sharper when wielded against her own husband and she hopes to stay in his good graces as well.)Sue has a sweet tooth. She wears a size 9 shoe. She collects art glass. She recycles. She sewed her own wedding gown (big mistake). She revels in the outdoors and longs to be on the beach. She prattles on at the keyboard. She is a safety nutcase. And she loves to Zumba.

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      Book preview

      The H.Unger Games Gone Wild A Parody - Sue Knott

      The H. Unger Games Gone Wild

      A Parody

      Lardyard Hampoon

      &

      Sue Knott

      Smashwords Edition

      ©Brian & Terry Lynch 2012

      Foot Drop Publishing

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

      All rights reserved.

      Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

      All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to any real, living, dead, or future persons is coincidental and not intended by the author. The book is in no way associated with the popular novel it lampoons so enthusiastically.

      The H.Unger Games Gone Wild A Parody, 5th edition, 2013, Foot Drop Publishing

      1

      I wake up alone on a sack stuffed with straw, an invention known in these parts as a mattress. Usually my little sister, Primp (named after my mother), sleeps with me. But, today is Operation Infinite Justice Day. It will be Primp’s first Infinite Justice. She probably had a nightmare and crawled into bed with our cold, useless mother. Or maybe I had a nightmare about Infinite Justice and screamed and pulled Primp’s long, golden hair out as I did last year.

      I look down at my fists. Yep. I am clenching wads of yellow hair. But, it is difficult to tell if it’s from Primp or Butterscotch. Butterscotch is an orphan Primp brought home a few years ago. I threw the baby out the window several times, but Primp kept bringing her back in the house. I explained to Primp how we could not afford another mouth to feed, but Primp gave me those puppy dog eyes of hers (the kind that somehow make you feel bad when you kill and eat a puppy dog). We couldn’t afford to buy Primp a doll. A worthless orphan was as close as she’d come to having a toy. How could I refuse?

      Besides, Butterscotch eventually turned out to be useful. She usually catches enough mice to feed both my mother and herself. Last year, I told Butterscotch that I would get her a mattress if she would stop biting me. We’ve gotten along a lot better since then. I don’t even go out of my way to kick her anymore.

      We live in District 12. Our district is surrounded by an electrified fence. Legend has it that the fence was originally built to keep illegal aliens called Canadians out of PanAm. (It’s difficult now to imagine anyone wanting to sneak in to PanAm.) Later, the fence was used to keep out real, actual space aliens from District 9. But, PanAm (slogan: The Nation, Not the Airline) has been too cheap to power the fence for years. They must figure we’re too stupid to notice. Our District is the coal mining district. Not a lot of brainpower here. We weren’t the brightest to begin with and now we are seriously inbred (as you might expect of a District surrounded by an electric fence). Since only two people appear to know the fence isn’t electrified anymore, I guess PanAm is accurate in its assessment of our district’s intelligence.

      My father discovered the fence was turned off when he stumbled into it drunk one day and bounced off without harm. And everyone has heard the rumors that the aliens in District 9 hightailed it back to their own planet as soon as they got enough fuel for their crockets (the combination slow-cooker/spaceships they came in).

      With no worry of electrocution or alien attackers, my father would sneak under the fence and go hunting in the bountiful forest. He’d bring home delicious rabbit, wild lettuce, berries, grapes…all kinds of wonderful and valuable foods. Since so many people starve to death in District 12, Father’s poaching was of no small importance. You see, all the free food was on the other side of the no-longer electrified fence. Father was the only one that knew you could safely go under the fence.

      No one else could figure out where Father got all that great food. And he sure as heck wasn’t going to tell any of his starving neighbors. He sold what we didn’t need. He would use the cash to buy special trinkets for my mother. But, those trinkets were never enough, so my father worked at the mine, too. The dual income sources just barely kept Mother in enough frippery to prevent her from going into fits of rage.

      You see, Mother was not originally from coalmining stock. Her family came from a long line of merchants. Merchants have a far better life than miners. They have more money and get to sit down occasionally on something called a chair. They have real houses instead of living in piles of refuse. I’m told their lungs would barely show up on something called x-rays while coal miners’ lungs would look like solid black blobs. Of course, we don’t have those x-ray thingies in District 12. They are only available in the Capitol District (so fancy, that district gets a name rather than a number). The Capitol District has something called OhMamaCare where everyone who is sick can go and enjoy homemade chicken soup and get x-rays. It is the near-slave-labor of everyone in the numbered districts that allows the Capitol District to have OhMamaCare and we resent it. We would kill for chicken soup! Ironically, that’s what we’ll do if we get picked during Infinite Justice.

      Of course, I also hear that even before the OhMamaCare, the doctors in the Capitol District were forced to heal the dying who came to them. We don’t have doctors in the numbered districts, but if we did, they wouldn’t be forced to heal anyone. Here, we have the freedom to step over anyone who’s dying and not do a damn thing. The only things we’re not free to do are the things the rich Capitol Districters don’t want us to do…like vote or thrive.

      I bet the Capitol Districters are even softer than the merchants. And, talk about soft, I hear that merchants’ mattresses are stuffed with feathers rather than straw. And merchants live to be as old as 40 or sometimes even 50! I don’t know how they live that long when they are so soft that they bathe even before they start to smell.

      My mother gave up her chance at that fancy, merchant life when she married my father. Coal miners’ wives have a hard life. They have to stand around and starve all day. Mother’s parents warned her not to marry Father. But, he was in a rock band on weekends and that was the coolest damn thing going on in District 12. How was she to know that a rock band singer wouldn’t seem like such a good choice once she was living in a hovel and

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