Tales From The Yeast

(Continued from Genesis. First post in series- On Electricity)

As Ovi and Mushy slowly got accustomed to life underwater, they decided that it was time to start a family. They soon had a baby boy, and they named him Pikachu (don't ask). They had other kids, too, who were named Spongebob, Patrick and Squidward (their life was soon made into a TV show). But Pikachu was the most mischievous of the lot. Like the other day, when he put the bathtub in the freezer, making a gigantic ice-cube, and then sliced off a huge chunk using his brother's hacksaw blade, shaped it using a lathe machine, and released it to the surface, where a ship accidentally hit the 'iceberg' and then sank to the bottom. (It's called the Titanic or something, I'll look it up later)

In those days, people were highly superstitious. As the Dark Ages began, people thought that it was some Black Magic, and began to get scared. But one wise man soon told them that it was just another major oil spill by the good folks over at BP. In any case, the conditions had become inhabitable (not to mention Pikachu was still randomly electrocuting people in the water once in a while 'by mistake') So Ovi and Mushy made a decision to travel East, chiefly because they'd heard of the rich cultural heritage of that region.

As they swam to the surface, they saw an old witch sitting with a few occult paraphernalia. Before their eyes could adjust to the sun, the witch spoke shrilly.

"I know why you have come here. And I also know the solution to your problem. I have with me two pills, (now also available as vials) of different potions. Take the blue pill, and you will feel anew, entering into a world like never before. Take the red pill, and your old world will be restored, like nothing happened. The choice is yours."

As they were pondering upon which form of medication to take, one of them had a genuine doubt.

"That's okay, but who are you?", he inquired sincerely.

"Me? I am Lord Voldemort", he thundered. And lightninged.

Which witch which was weird for 2 reasons.

Firstly, if Voldemort was a witch, then she should have been Queen Voldemort or something. But if he was Lord Voldemort, then he should have been a wizard. But even if he were one, he wouldn't be very good at it. And why is that, you ask? That's simply because (and this is the second point) --

Voldemort was a moron.

Yes, there are many reason as to why he turned evil, but he was still a moronic Dark Lord (there, I inadvertently put rest to his doubtful gender). Well, to begin with, his childhood was riddled with negativity. He used to fail miserably at pretty much everything he did. Especially spelling. Heck, he couldn't even spell his own name right. (see also - Tom Marvolo Riddle)

Then he saw all these people around him performing miraculous spells, and he really wanted to try it too. So on his eleventh birthday, his mother got him the gift he'd always dreamed of -- P. C. Sorcar's 101 Magic Tricks (Now with 3 new tricks!)

He practised religiously for months, and finally mustered enough courage to perform his first magic show in public. His first trick was the classic (he himself tried to do it) 'pull the rabbit out of the hat' trick. He took out his hat, wand at the ready, and nervously uttered the magic words --

[baby voice] "Abba-kadabby"
Nothing happened. So he tried again.

"Abbra-kabaddi"
The rabbit, still inside the hat, took it as an insult and refused to come out.

"Aadha-kadabra"
By now the rabbit was really annoyed. He came out, slapped him, and went back in. (Or maybe he used "Doofus Slap-acus". I'm really not too sure)

"Avada-kedavra"
This was too much for the rabbit, who committed suicide.

But everyone thought that the magic trick was intended to kill the rabbit, so they were under the impression that Voldemort had just invented the Killing Curse. Eventually he became so famous for it, that people urged him to take part in the annual May-Tricks event. On the day he decided to give in, his life took an abrupt turn. For, on that very day, the administrators of the event discovered something shocking.

[Somewhere in the 2x2 Matrix]

"Someone has hacked into the Matrix!", Ron exclaimed.

"I know! Mutating algorithms, Brute force, Chanel-5 force, nothing seems to be working. I think he has used some advanced sorting technique", Hermione shuddered.

"I really dunno what we can do. We need someone to help us. But who?", Harry wondered.

Just as he finished his sentence, Fox the faux Fawkes (who was actually a phoenix) swooped in (sporting coolers and a bandana) and dropped a ragged black object.

"The Sorting Hat! The only known sorting algorithm in O(1)!", Hermione screamed in joy, using the Hat to sort out the mess. "Now all we have to do is crack the password. It seems to have been encrypted with RSA or something." But that didn't prove to be much of a hurdle as she successfully managed to unlock it using ALoHoMoRa v1.3.

They tried to track the IP of the intruder, and soon traced it back to a laptop somewhere in the London station.

"He is planning to leave the city by train. We have to catch him before he escapes!", moaned a concerned Hermione.

"But there are 39 platforms, and only 4 of us. How can we possibly find him by ourselves?", Ron asked, puzzled.

"That's ok. We'll split up. Each of you take one-fourth of the platforms and begin searching", said Harry, in a decisive tone.

So each one was allotted 39/4 platforms. Or 9 and 3/4 in mixed fraction form. Harry saw that there was a wall in the middle of platforms 9 and 10. So he began sprinting towards it. As he approached the wall at high speed, instead of smashing directly into it, something magical happened--

He smashed directly into it.

He fell down, still reeling from the sharp pain in his head. He felt his forehead and sensed that it had started bleeding. So he started crying copiously at his boo-boo. At the same time, Fox the faux Fawkes (who was actually a phoenix) swooped in and started crying too, the tears falling on Harry's cut. And the wound started healing due to its healing powers. But because he was a fake phoenix, the wound didn't heal properly, and left a lightning-shaped scar.

While this scene was unfolding, somewhere in a remote ice-cream parlour, there was a hooded figure eating a Death By Chocolate. What was this Death-Eater plotting? What could Harry and the others do now? Stay tuned, as the saga continues...

[Actually, I'm all out of ideas and have no clue on how to take this story further. Please post your ideas (no matter how wacky or crazy) and I will try to incorporate all of them and carry this forward along those lines (AND give you due credit, too. Yay!)]

(Oh, and a big thank you to Tejus and Kanan, whose blogs have given me a ton of inspiration for my posts. Do check their's out as well, they're both better than mine :O)

Update: Click here to read the next post!

Christie

There I was, standing in the middle of the road, when it hit me. The bike, that is. The next few seconds were a blur. Although I vaguely remember watching a pale blue object as it flew across the sky in a graceful arc, landing with a dull thud on the freshly paved street. Oh, and the bike lay sprawled on the sidewalk about fifty feet from where the aforementioned girl-in-blue fell.

I had been knocked off my footing, and was lying with my face splat on the ground. Through the corner of my eye I could see her make an unsuccessful attempt to scramble herself onto her feet. I made an earnest effort to get up as well, but it was much too tedious for my aching limbs, and I collapsed to the ground almost instantly.

It was surprising to note that none of the onlookers even bothered to help. But I soon managed to ascribe the elementary lack of a Good Samaritan spirit to the fact that there wasn’t a single soul around, save for an old man in poor clothing. Technically, though, he couldn’t really be called an onlooker. Why? Well, I suppose that it’d help if I retraced my steps first.

...

It all started this morning. The moment I woke up to the mellifluous twittering of the birds, and the warmth of the sun’s rays gently caressing my face, I knew that something would go terribly wrong. Clairvoyance. ESP, if you will. I got dressed and left for the mall, an outing that was brought about following a chance encounter with an old friend the previous week. As I proceeded to hail a cab, I felt a strange tingling sensation in my ribs. Moments later, all the cabs seem to be plying from top to bottom, a very queer phenomenon. That’s when my IQ-riddled brain helped me sense that I had fallen to the ground.

I dusted myself off, and noticed that I was not the sole observer of the vertical taxi syndrome. A petite lass lay motionless on the floor, wondering what forces of nature could have conspired to cause such a mystical occurrence. Evidently, she happened to bump into me. As I leaned over to help her up, the glint of her hazel eyes told me that something greatly distressed her.

“Are you alright?”, I asked.

“Oh it’s nothing, really. This kind of thing happens to me all the time”, she giggled.

“Haha, ok. I thought you seemed pretty upset. Anything I can help you with?”

“Well now that you mention it, I do have to pick up my dad’s body from the hospital. And I could really use a helping hand. Would you come with me? Pretty please?”

At first, I found it fairly strange that a girl whose father had passed away could remain so calm about it. At the same time, I really didn’t want another errand on my hands. Plus, I was already getting late for the mall. But it would be grossly immoral of me to desert her in her exigency. Which meant that I really couldn’t say ‘no’ either. So I did what I felt would be best, even though I knew I was going to regret it. I lied. Through my teeth.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I really wouldn’t mind accompanying you. In fact, I was on my way to the hospital myself. I have this fever, you see--”

“You have a beaver?! That’s so cute!”

“No, actually I said that I have a fever--”

“It’s ok, you can show me your beaver later. First, we have to go the hospital”

And she yanked me along before I could explain myself. On our hasty way towards the hospital, I nearly got run over by a truck. Thrice. Once we got inside, she feverishly heckled one of the nurses. The poor nurse seemed to be more than eager to divulge information about the location of the morgue at the prospect of being free from her clutches. And we stormed off towards the morgue.

Sitting by the entrance to the room was an old man, probably in his sixties, in patchy threads and sporting a pair of shades. We inquired about the body.

“Er, I’m looking for the body of Mr. Carl Evans”, said the girl. Her name was Christie, as I’d learnt en route. “Can you help us?”

“Only if you help me, too” he demanded.

“What do you mean?”, I interjected.

“I mean to say that, in return, it would be really nice if you could help me get back home. It’s just a couple of blocks away, right across the street. You see, a blind man can only travel so far by himself”

“If that’s the case, then how, pray, would you be able to help us?”, I asked, skeptically.

“Well, I have the keys to the register. Nicked ‘em”, he said, brandishing his teeth whilst clutching the key-ring.

“Seems fair”, I thought aloud, grabbing the keys from his hand, and unlocking the desk right beside him. I rummaged through the papers, and soon realized that it was a bunch of worthless junk. “You tricked us! There is no name-register in here”, I grumbled.

“Oh, I see”, he said, which I, for one, found pretty annoying – given that he couldn’t see. “Maybe they moved it someplace else. Did you try the patient-display system? I hear they’ve installed it on almost all corridors”

And sure enough, there was a large colour screen gleaming right in front of us. I face-palmed myself and searched the database. “Cool, they’ve even arranged it in an alphabetical order. What was your dad’s name again?”

“Carl. Carl Evans”, she replied.

“Oh, I ‘C’” the old man grinned. I clenched my teeth in exasperation, and then proceeded to skim through the names of people beginning with a C.

“303-A”, I announced. And we skipped over to the allotted cabinet. I held my breath and slid out the cold body, still in its bag, and Christie helped me lug it outside.

“I’m sorry, but how did he die?”, I asked.

“I dunno. Probably drunk-drove off into the lake or something”

“Oh, I sea”, the old man smirked. I stopped short at the point of giving him a fistful, flush in the groins.

As we heaved the body out, some sort of sensor on the door beeped. And alarms started ringing all over. None of us had expected this. I had to think quickly, and we decided to make a run for it. As we turned round the corner, we crashed into a stretcher trolley, and careened off towards the ledge, and into the glass pane.

Now picture a scene from an action movie, wherein an old man and a young girl are saved by a suave hero with an understated air of calm, and the trio come crashing down from the second floor of a hospital, stacked on a bed-on-wheels, miraculously landing with fullest poise neatly in the midst of a dozen awestruck bystanders on the road.

And that’s exactly what didn’t happen. Numerous shards of glass hurtled downwards, shimmering in the light and tinkling onto the ground. Amidst the chaos that ensued, Christie and I were tossed into an alley, as the body bag bounced and came to a halt nearby, while the bed veered off into the distance, carrying the old man with it.

As I tried to recover from the shock, Christie received a text message that seemed to greatly relieve her.

“It’s my mom. She asked whether I’ve picked up my dad’s toddy from the Lofty Skull yet. I guess I probably didn’t hear her right. Can you believe that?”, she tittered, pleasantly amused. “But thanks for your help anyways. Bye!” And she tottered off happily, leaving me still gaping in bewilderment.

I began to trudge slowly, reflecting on the day’s surreal occurrences, when my eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of the bed from the hospital, toppled over sideways, and the old man trying to cross the road without much luck. Too shocked to speak, I helped him without uttering a word. And it was in the middle of this road that the bike smashed into me.

…

And that’s why he couldn’t technically be called an onlooker. Because he couldn’t look! Come to think of it, I have no idea how he managed to dodge the accident and escape unscathed anyway. I looked up to the spot where I last saw him. He was gone. When I came to, I hobbled over to help the girl, visibly in pain, get back up. As she turned over, I was taken aback to see her face. It was Christie.

“Oh, hi. Are you alright? Look I’m really, really sorry--”, I stammered.

“Lorry? No, silly. I came in a bike. That one, over there, see?”, she said, quizzically, pointing to where the mangled remains of her bike lay.

“Umm. Ok. I really wish I could do something to make up for what I’ve done. At the very least, allow me pay for your medical expenses—“

“You noticed my lenses? Cool! Don’t they make me look pretty?”, she asked, gazing at me intently.

“Yes, you really do have pretty eyes”, I fumbled, digging into my pockets to take out my wallet. But I was unable to find it. After conducting a second thorough examination, I managed to pull out a crumpled up piece of paper from one of them. As I turned it over, I saw that it had three words hastily scrawled upon it. I was equally amused and appalled as I read what they said – Optical Implants Corporation. Or, acronymically --

O.I.C.

Genesis

As I mentioned in another post (link), when the world was still in nascency, a large galactic war was fought. But the war slowly subsided, and a sort of passive calm took over the inhabitants of the Universe (which, by the way, is supposedly the poem to read). So anyway, there was a limited set of options for those who wanted to de-stress in space. The first one was listening to music. And the second, drinking. So as you'd have deduced by now, concerts were the ideal place to hang out -- given that you could do both.

But on one fateful day, flush in the middle of a spacey groove, the robe of the singer got entangled in the microphone. He quickly tried to undo his mistake, but it was too late. He had done the unthinkable -- he gave birth to mic-robes. Tiny organisms that were virtually undetectable, and thus scampered away playfully. These microbes caused the great financial slump, causing many people to lose jobs in the process. Eventually all jobs were taken over by the microbes. They started being called staph members.

Due to the catastrophical outcome of that day, all concerts were banned indefinitely. So all the cool bacteria now had a new favorite place to hang out - the 'Space Bar'. It was a queer place in every sense of the word. (And I mean every sense. Oh, except that one) It attracted customers from far and wide and tall and deep. More pertinently, though, the world changed when a lonesome mushroom decided to venture into the sacred land of the bacteria. As he parked his spaceship (the NUM-3000, or Nitric Unaldehyde Moped) on the NUM-pad with utmost dexterity, he was met with disgruntled glares all around. He silently plodded his way towards a sign that said 'Enter', accompanied by an L-shaped arrow that pointed downwards and to the left.

So he took the elevator and went to the floor immediately below. As he took a right (his right is your left, stupid) he felt both awe-struck and let down at what he saw. The place was filled with some of the coolest celebrities (including Joe Bacteriani, lead guitarist and frontman of the band Yo!Gurt). And it was resplendent with neon lights and holographic displays. But something was missing -- Happiness.

Nah, she was actually sitting on the far right corner, with her husband Loch-ness.

So anyway, he proceeded to the bartender, and ordered a Buck RD. Through the corner of his eye, he noticed 3 bacteria sitting on the table, and began to get a little agitated. His concern could slimly be ascribed to the fact that bacteria were physically more intimidating than fungi. They approached him and decided to rough him up a bit, just for laughs.

(This is the conversation that ensued)

One of the bacteria - Hey, Twinkie. My name is Rod. And these are my friends Spiro and Ovi. (ref)

Him - Erm. Hi. My name is Mushy.

Rod - Mushy? What a wimpy name. Your mommy give that to you? (nudges Spiro and sniggers)

Mushy - (eyes cast down) Uh...

Spiro - Aww. Too bad. Mushy felt offended. You know what? I think he's a good guy. (in a mocking voice) Whooza gud mushy? Whooza gud mushy-wushy?

Rod - Hahahaha.

Ovi - (visibly upset) Oh, leave the poor boy alone. He didn't do anything to you.

Rod - Well, whaddaya know? Our little girl Ovi has a soft spot for the even more wittle Mushy-Wushy.

(Mushy to himself - Ovi is a chick?? )

Rod - Go on then..why don't you two run along and get married and make babies if you like each other so much. (winks)

Spiro - Yeah..and maybe you can play with your nanobots or something. Seeing as you are the fun-guy and what not. No, wait. That's Megatron for you, right? (high-fives Rod)

Rod - Hahahaha. Good one.

Ovi - Hmph. Fine. You know what? I will. [takes hold of Mushy's arm] Let's go, Mushy. And leave these two numbskulls to themselves.

Spiro - But we don't even have skulls! That just shows how stupid you are, dimwit!

(Rod and Spiro are seen laughing boisterously while Ovi and Mushy make their way towards the read end of the bar, nick-named the BackSpace. Mushy is dumbfounded, and is visibly deep in thought. But his thoughts can roughly be approximated to -- "Ovi is a chick??")

As the two got to know more about each other, they began to fall in love. But the place was much too hostile for a bacteria and a fungus to commingle. So they decided to leave for Earth. (coz its the only planet that's known to be capable of sustaining life, duh)

But it wasn't easy, as the other bacteria vehemently opposed this, and Mushy had the Herculean task of outrunning his pursuers.

Nope, he didn't.

He was in a spaceship, remember? So, technically, he had to outsail them. Ha.

Now, Mushy happened to be a genius. Prophetic, more like. For he knew that this day would come. And he quickly converted his moped into a submarine, which gave him more traction control.

(Why a submarine in space, you ask? It's simple. He had to gain speed. Which means he had to reduce drag. And how do you reduce drag? By sub-traction, of course. Do I have to explain everything??)

They soon managed to outfly outsail everyone, and after a long journey in the sub-space (Get it?), they managed to enter the Earth's atmosphere. As they quickly gained momentum (and weight), they could feel that the Force was getting stronger. (Force α Rate of change of momentum. Newton's Second Frickin' Law, man)

So they used the Force to control objects through Telekinesis. To ensure a safe landing, Mushy rotated the Earth a bit so as to correctly align the water bodies. (Due to some residual Force, the Earth is rotating till today). They splashed on the water surface, but continued to plunge until they reached the bottom. As they alighted upon the ocean floor, Ovi & Mushy became the first inhabitants of Earth. So they celebrated with a little bonfire, and they roasted marshmallows, too.

(Note - I'm getting tired of typing Ovi & Mushy all the time. So I'm just gonna shorten it to 'OM'. Oh btw, some people believe that OM was the first sound that resonated throughout the Universe during its inception. But now you know what it really stands for)

..and they lived happily ever after.

(Actually, they didn't. They were forced to travel Yeast East. What unforetold dangers awaited them there? Wait for the next post to find out. You know you want to...)

Update: Click here for the sequel.