The Fatboy Saga Book One Chapter One

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 3 (v.1)

Submitted: August 07, 2008

Reads: 84

Comments: 2

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 07, 2008



Chapter 3

“YOU!” The rider shouted again, ARE COMING WITH ME!” “Buwt why?” Platypus whimpered. The food had long since been flung from his mouth. “WHY?!WHY!!!!!!!?

The Rider Then Took off its Helmet to reveal that it was old Miss Klerggey, the old lady who lived across the street from Fatboy. She had exactly 56 cats, and could tell you everything about the American Revolution. Fatboy and Platypus couldn’t guess her age, but estimated that her great grand children invented fire. “Because you need to clean up the toilet paper that you threw on my house last night.” she said calmly. Fatboy and Platypus had no idea how the toilet paper got on the roof, but they figured that they had better leave before Fugo Wakes up to find his store short one wall, even if Fugo Shugos wallet as fat as himself. As the got into the truck, Fatboy once again felt that same fizzy feeling. Actually if Fatboy had been outside last night at 2 am, he would have also seen two ferret sentries, assigned to make sure the rescue of the “strange mighty lawn midgets” went unnoticed by any of Fatboy’s neighbors.

While guarding, the two ferrets had decided to have some fun, and T.P.ed Old Miss Klerggey, or, better known to the ferrets, weasels, and moles, “crazy old cat freako.” Where they got the T.P. shall never be known. Fatboy and Platypus spent the rest of the day cleaning up T.P. off of an old Victorian house that stunk of cat urine. While they cleaned, the two friends wondered, how you can glue T.P. to a roof, where that strange hobo went, and whether to get a blubber steak or blubber ribs for dinner. Or, at least Fatboy wondered that, Platypus was thinking about Fried seaweed while humming the tune “Mary Had a Little Lamb” over and over again. After Miss Klerggey had made them polish the roof, she allowed them to go home “Buh Fawtboy” Platypus yawned.

“Boiy Platapus” Fatboy muttered sleepily. Fatboy’s hands stunk of polish, and ached. When he got to his house, he was so sleepy that he didn’t notice a mole walking into a small hole in the ground with his lawn flamingo. As he entered his house he only had a small turkey leg for dinner, and as he went to bed, tired and fizzy, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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