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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Comedy · #1774505
When something disappears mysteriously, it's those darned GREMLINS!
“Darnit… Hey mom! Where did you put my homework? Why do you do this? I constantly tell you not to touch my stuff.”



“Please, Honey, not now. Did you happen to see some papers? Some really important documents were sitting on my desk and now they aren’t.”



“Mommy! I need socks!”



“I just did laundry; they should be in the dryer.”



“THEY’RE NOT!”



A few miles away, two small, ugly, man-like creatures sat in a remote clearing in the woods. They were laughing and wheezing and roasting marshmallows over a putrid, toxic fire made of humanity’s missing items.



They were gremlins.



XXXXXX



Meanwhile, on the extra-dimensional homeworld of the creatures:



Fifty green and knobby little monsters jostled each other in an effort to obtain a seat in the front of the auditorium. Auditorium is used in the loosest sense of the word; it was much more similar to a third-world cafeteria having a mutant child with an unwashed old gym and calling it a meeting place. Blorg and Deezzz huddled over a table in the back of the room, conferring with nearly unbridled excitement all that would occur that day.



It was N00b Orientation Day at Thieving Pig High - the most renowned school on the planet.



“Are you so totally stoked?”



“I am so totally stoked; what about you?”



“I know that I for one am so totally stoked.”



The IQ of a normal gremlin is about 45. They’re as intelligent as the average high school student.



“I heard that Fembizzle is gonna be a guest speaker!”



“Oh dude! That dude is a legend! I’m so stoked.”



“I’m stoked too dude!”



“DUDE!”



“Dude, I heard that The Bizzle once stole a front porch in broad daylight. The neighborhood even had a crime watch and everything!”



“That is so legit, but y’know what I heard? I heard that he’s already got his kids stealing like cats and stuff. I heard that his boy took his first phone within a week of the spawning.”



“No way! I still haven’t taken a cat! Heck, I only took luggage for the first time a month ago.”



“Dude! Shut up! A guy is walking.”



It was true: A guy was walking. To be specific, and to show why a guy walking even carried any significance whatsoever, let me clarify that the “guy walking” was the dean of the school and he was heading up to the lopsided podium at the front of the room.



A grating sound pierced the air, and then the feedback started (It might be argued that the latter was preferable).The old, wrinkled one finished the clearing of his throat, tapped the microphone, and began to read his cue cards.



“Settle down, settle down! Guards, that young man was too slow. Feed him to my swine.”



The unfortunate trouble maker was dragged out of the room, crying like an infant.



“Ahem, well, now that that’s been settled, let’s proceed as planned. We will start off the seminar with our national anthem.”



A chorus of monotone wails arose. It was the day that the music died.



“Oh Gremlins! Oh Gremlins! We hate that term, because it’s so not descriptive and, honestly, everything from the 80’s sucked! Please, let us be known for what we are: Dirty, slimy, hideous, thieving rats!”



And repeat till out of oxygen. I have a feeling that even the writer of that “song” has no idea what the melody should be.



“Now, to business! Congratulations to all of you who survived high school. You are now ready for the ultimate challenge: adulthood and preparing for your career! We will be having classes (some mandatory, some only for specific jobs) for the next three straight days.



“Here is the game plan for the event:



“Today:



1.      Introductory class taught by Dr. Grnrorgr Phlegm… that’s me. My class will be mandatory and will occur right after this in the family bathroom.



2.      After mine, there will be a split. Women will go to the home-raising and cooking class (AKA: Wench 101) and men will get to do the fun stuff. Women, that is your only class for the rest of the seminar, after that you all can get out of here.



3.      The day’s closing. We’ll meet back here and have a Q&A and snacks.



“And that will be it for today.



“Tomorrow, though, is when the real fun starts:



1.      The art of invisibility with Mr. D.R. Pmnoop, he is a personal friend of mine and a wonderfully underhanded man. He has been known to steal student’s money while he’s talking and they never notice… excellent teacher, absolutely excellent.



2.      At the same time, Mayor W will be holding his class: The History of Our Legacy or something along those lines. I don’t really know. I hate that guy. Don’t tell him I said that! He threatened to feed me to his swine if he didn’t get a three-hour class with at least ten students. Let’s see… You, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, and you. Take his class or you are swine fodder. Darn it, that’s nine. Umm, how about you, too. Okay! Now that my life is no longer at stake, I will continue the proceedings.



3.      What to steal, when to steal, and all that other important stuff. Shirk has been tasked with the boring but necessary task of informing you that it is a bad idea to steal a baby while it is being nursed.



4.      Day’s closing. We’ll do hands-on training by taking a Gremlins DVD (Which we will burn) and a Gremlins 2 DVD (Which we’ll watch, because for some reason I liked that one, but afterwards we will burn that one too since it’s still blasphemy. We are never cute).



“The final day is special:



“We have obtained, at very high cost I might add, the master of thievery, the king of hooligans, the god of tricks and annoyance: FEMBIZZLE!!! He has agreed to share his stories as an inspiration to you lesser and more worthless blobs!”



There was a riot. Two and a half were trampled and four were fed to the swine.



“Yeah, that’s right! If you want to see The Bizzle, stay alive till Friday! See y’all in class!”



XXXXXX



“Seriously, my phone is gone too? Gosh, this is ridiculous.”



He never noticed the baby gremlin, lurking in the corner, using the shiny chrome device as a binky.
© Copyright 2011 Shea Savage (sheasavage at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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