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A Tribute to Greatness: The Vanity Tour
Azioni libro
Inizia a leggereLunghezza: 154 pagine1 ora
- Editore:
- Lulu.com
- Pubblicato:
- May 8, 2019
- ISBN:
- 9781387958269
- Formato:
- Libro
Descrizione
This is a work of experimental fiction, aiming to stretch the boundaries of what is accepted as absurd. To clarify, absurd is the name, satire is the game. This collection of short stories, poetry, allusions, and practical jokes seeks to break of the monotony of daily life and provide to you, the reader, something to take your mind off of the boring reality we all live in today! So, join the exploits of ghosts, pirates, ghostly pirates, pantomime horses, historical figures, and a plethora of other memorable characters in "A Tribute to Greatness: The Vanity Tour"
Informazioni sul libro
A Tribute to Greatness: The Vanity Tour
Lunghezza: 154 pagine1 ora
Descrizione
This is a work of experimental fiction, aiming to stretch the boundaries of what is accepted as absurd. To clarify, absurd is the name, satire is the game. This collection of short stories, poetry, allusions, and practical jokes seeks to break of the monotony of daily life and provide to you, the reader, something to take your mind off of the boring reality we all live in today! So, join the exploits of ghosts, pirates, ghostly pirates, pantomime horses, historical figures, and a plethora of other memorable characters in "A Tribute to Greatness: The Vanity Tour"
- Editore:
- Lulu.com
- Pubblicato:
- May 8, 2019
- ISBN:
- 9781387958269
- Formato:
- Libro
Informazioni sull'autore
Correlati a A Tribute to Greatness
Anteprima del libro
A Tribute to Greatness - Alexandra Elise Green
A Tribute to Greatness: The Vanity Tour
By: Alexandra Elise Green
© Alexandra Elise Green, 2018.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: alexandraelisegreen@gmail.com
ISBN: 978-1-387-95826-9
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this work to my family, specifically my mom and my dad, who have supported me through all of my endeavors, even the more far-fetched ideas I’ve had.
I would also like to dedicate this work to my best friend, in both life and death, Sasha, my precious girl. You are someone who means more to me than anything else on Earth. Rest well, dear friend.
Contents
Foreword:
Chapter 1: How to De-Blubberify a Whale
Chapter 2: My Lupines
Chapter 3: In Which I Won’t Tell You What Happens Because Then I Know That You’ll Be Lazy And You Won’t Read It, Will You?
Chapter 4: For Those Who Don’t Fear the Werewolf
Chapter 4: For Those Who Don’t Fear the Werewolf
Chapter 4: For Those Who Don’t Fear the Werewolf
Chapter 4: For Those Who Don’t Fear the Werewolf
Chapter 4: For Those Who Don’t Fear the Werewolf
Chapter 4: For Those Who Don’t Fear the Werewolf
Chapter 4: For Those Who Don’t Fear the Werewolf
Chapter 4: For Those Who Don’t Fear the Werewolf
Chapter 4.5: I Warned You
Chapter 5: I Warned You:
Chapter 6: Untitled (Even Though Untitled is Actually a Title. I Never Quite Understood the Concept of Titling Something Untitled
When Untitled
is in and of Itself a Title. Just Some Food for Thought.)
Chapter 7: Hello. Call Me Ishmael.
Chapter 8: The Great Debate
Chapter 9: Nothing, but I Know that You’re Here
Chapter 10: I Don’t Quite Know What Will Happen Myself
Chapter 11: Baby-LO-Nia, Or So They Say
Chapter 12: Have You Seen It?
Chapter 13: Don’t Fear the Reaper, or Maybe You Should?
Chapter 14: Intermission
Chapter 15: A Magnet Hung in a Hardware Shop
Chapter 16: My Lovely
Chapter 17: He is Very Particular about His Livestock
Chapter 18: I Sound Like a Wookie, But Only When I’m Sick
Chapter 19: You Know One Who Smells of a Rancid Cat
Chapter 20: This is the Beginning of the End, or Just the End, or Just the Beginning, or Some Bit of it in the Middle. Possibly the Beginning of the Middle, or the End of the Middle. I Can’t Quite Remember Myself. I Hope that You Could Remind Me. Possibly, it is the End of the Beginning. I Kind of Confused Myself with All of the Different Chapter Numbers and Headings that Didn’t Have to do with Much of Anything. Am I Explaining This in Too Much Detail?
Afterword:
About The Author
Foreword:
I originally wrote this piece at thirteen years old on a dare from a friend of mine, who told me that I couldn’t write anything that made less sense than his work, or that was longer. I, of course, took the challenge in stride and came back two weeks later with the one hundred and eighteen page monstrosity that it originally was. I then decided to publish it and put it on the market for other people to read.
Six years later, I realized that I wasn’t happy with what I wrote anymore, so I decided to update it. I figured with a high school diploma and a year of college under my belt that I could make it better. So again, I took a challenge upon myself in order to prove that I could, in fact, write the piece to my, current, liking.
I’m sure in another six years, when I’m twenty-five, I’ll again be dissatisfied with my writing because a person’s writing is an everchanging entity. As a person grows older, gains more experience writing, travels and understands more of the world, and gets to know more people, that person’s writing is changed.
Most importantly, I hope that you enjoy the following collection of short stories, poetry, and satirical ramblings as much as I enjoyed writing it, and then re-writing it, and then re-writing it several more times. I hope it confuses you, frightens you, and maybe even question why you decided to read it in the first place.
Finally, I’d like to say Thank you
to you, Sorry
to my future self, and to everyone, "Please enjoy A Tribute to Greatness: The Vanity Tour."
Yours always,
Alexandra Elise Green
July 6, 2018
Chapter 1: How to De-Blubberify a Whale
There was a woman in torn, patched, woolen trousers and a vibrant, silvery, orange life jacket, (it looked like a futuristic version of Marty McFly’s windbreaker from the Back to the Future franchise of movies, all shiny, like the inside of a snail’s shell).
The woman’s clothing was shining, shimmering, even splendid!
The life jacket, it was more like a windbreaker in all truth, was kind of like Marty’s son’s hat, named Marty Jr, in Back to the Future Part II. It was iridescent in color; I’m sure you remember the movie. Unless you don’t, which is somewhat disturbing
The woman’s puffy mustache was glinting in the gleaming flickering gleam of the Eurovision. It wasn’t the contest; she never cared for those.
Her clothes betrayed years of wear and tear, but sentimentality or some other reason, but I’m going to assume that it was sentimentality, kept her from replacing her soon-to-be tattered clothing. You could easily see where it was haphazardly patched in the hopes of making it look like new again.
The hems were frayed on the legs of her pants and on the crisp collar of her white long-sleeved shirt.
She held a steely gaze on the screen of the Eurovision. Her eyes rarely blinked as she stared into the soft glow of the set. She was fixated on something that was flitting and dancing across the screen.
She was dubbed The Most Puffy Emperor of Europe,
on account of her puffy, Ned Flanders-esque mustache; if you’re not familiar, he’s that super-religious, Christian neighbor on The Simpsons, which is, at this time, the longest running television program in the history of American television.
When I mean super-religious, I don’t mean like a superhero; however, I suppose that could be promising.
Regardless, she had the mustache to prove her emperorship, if that’s even a word.
I’m fairly certain emperorship is a real word because Microsoft Word didn’t put one of those obnoxious, squiggly, red lines underneath the word.
At the moment, I’m a little too tired to get up and check the dictionary, so I shall remain complacent in thinking that Microsoft Word is, in fact, correct this time.
Anyway, the mustache may not have been real, but it added to her clout and allowed her to solidify her rule.
Before we continue, it should be noted that all good Emperors have sick, in the cool sense, mustaches, except for Napoleon Bonaparte.
However, Napoleon Bonaparte did try to take Russia in the winter, so I wouldn’t put too much stock into his rule as an Emperor.
Most importantly, of course, she had to undermine and embarrass her underlings by observing their every move and eradicating all of her subjects’ insubordination and originality with her heavy, iron fist. She lost the hand in a bar fight, but that only added to her credibility as a leader.
Her subordinates equated her to the real life
version of Luke Skywalker on account of her hand situation… except if he had taken up the offer and joined the family business.
But if Luke had gone into the family business, then he never would have lost his hand to his father… so I suppose that it’s a moot point now.
A middle-aged man entered through the house’s skylight. The man crashed to the floor holding a briefcase and wearing a professional-looking, knock-off designer business suit.
The suit looked like it was maybe a Kalvin Clein, or maybe even a Wera Vang, but Wera Vangs aren’t necessarily designed for men’s use, not that the middle-aged man cared.
He was wearing black, thick-rimmed, prescription glasses. The lenses themselves weren’t thick, thanks to the miracles of modern ophthalmology. Silver hairs streaked his deep, black hair, which was grown out enough to seem long, but not so long that his colleagues wouldn’t take him seriously.
His black, shiny dress shoes were scuffed from his rather unorthodox entry. Miraculously, he managed not to get himself cut when he entered through the thick-paned glass of the room’s skylight.
The Emperor noticed him soon after he entered the parlor, but not immediately. He wasn’t her greatest concern at the moment.
She avoided the skylight man’s gaze disinterestedly because people don’t seem to love each other anymore. Not that she had the capacity to love.
The two of them acted almost as if they were married to each other, superficially interested, but were generally disinterested with each other, ready
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