Pyrtlewing's Story Engine

(Cleaned Up Version)

Okay, here's yet another conversion of the Engine Story, this time I have removed the credits and some side comments, trying to make it look a bit more like an ordinary (??) story. I have also joined and split paragraphs wherever I found it suitable, and corrected some spelling, punctuation and name mistakes. See if you can spot'em all! ;)

  Pyrtlewing looked at her machine and sighed. Still no entries... <g>

  Not knowing what he was doing, Jonathan spun the magic wand on the oaken table and watched as it created a rainbow. Looking through the rainbow he caught a brief glimpse of Py wondering what happened to Continuity.
  Knowing he had to do something he gathered his things and set out. The road was long and the path rocky. But he carried on, his hope the heaviest thing that he carried. One day he met an old man.
  "Have you seen the Continuity?" he asked politely.
  "It is quite interesting. Nothing that enters the Continuity is the same when it leaves." The old man nodded and faded out.
  Jonathan shook his head, "I do wish people would stop doing that." Sighing he continued on his journey.

  Jonathan drew out a stale biscuit and a slice of what was possibly cheese. After a fierce internal battle, he decided to eat it.
  Several minutes later he was scouring the area trying to find a patch of those hallucinogenic mushrooms he had spotted earlier, because that sure as Hades hadn't been cheese, and the visions brought on by the mushrooms couldn't possibly have been as bad as the ones he was having now. (And anyway, the mushrooms gave him a nice buzz.)

  Meanwhile, others had also embarked on their quest for Continuity. The whole world was going crazy, and a lot of people were starting to notice. Yet, few people really cared. Most of the sane took up jobs as Psychiatrists and were making a bundle off of this mass confusion and hysteria. The crazy who had stayed at home, despite the ridicule, were more than happy to throw their hard earned cash at anyone who claimed to heal the fractured mind.

  Meanwhile, on the road to OZ. Jonathan kept feeling this desire to sing about lollipops and munchkins. His head was still buzzing from the cheese that wasn't, and his stomach had begun to do somersaults, half back twists, and other impossible manuevers.
  Clouds partially obscured the setting sun, flaring red and shading outward to blue and then black in the darkening sky. Jagged rocks stood silhouetted against the fading light, black and forbidding, and painful; her already aching knees complained each time she clambered a little further upward.
  In the lamplight, the statue's gentle curves glimmered faintly with the sheen of silk. Its stone polished by years, perhaps decades of lapping seawater, there was little resemblence to what it might once have been, only suggestions of eyes, one, almost miraculously, still bearing a sparkling chip of green stone, and the four-legged form of some animal, its ears and other features long since worn away.
  Too weak to carry on, bent double in the gloom, she sank to the ground, hands encircling the foot of the statue for comfort. Almost like some ill tempered child, the wind tugged at her clothes, chills playing up her arms as she held the statue. Warmth started to fill her from the statue as the single green chip glowed with life. Once again she was able to sit up on her own there in the gloom, looking up to the old art.
  Jonathan watched as the moon began to rise majestically over the peaks, her silvery light lending an air of fantasy to the surrounding landscape. Leaning back into the statue, she was surprised to feel warm flesh at her back. Spinning around in surprise she found that where the statue had been standing, was now a beautiful young woman, and a grinning fox.
  As the young woman placed her hands on either side of Jonathan's head, a feeling of peace and strength filled her. After a few minutes, the fox spoke. "Hail and well met, young traveler. The road ahead is long and filled with many dangers. If you keep your goal always in your mind and never falter, then you have a very good chance of success. What little advice that I may impart to you, you may not like."
  Jonathan was not listening, he/she was too busy wondering what had happened to his/her pronouns halfway through the story.

  Jonathan woke with a start and looked around. The statue was still a statue and there were no talking foxes either. He sighed with relief. It was all just a dream, and he was greatly relieved.
  He stood up and started picking up his pack. He froze. What was that? Fox tracks?! Yes, fox tracks! (dramatic chord) And not only that, but a pair of wolf tracks as well, chasing the fox tracks in circles before suddenly coming to a stop at where the statue now stood.
  Jonathan blinked and studied the statue carefully. Sure enough, it had changed...

  It was at this crucial moment Pyrtlewing decided to get back into the story after getting written out in the first line. She screamed out to anyone who was around or left alive to listen, "What the flying furry triple-distilled bejeezus is going on around here?!?!?"
  Jonathan jumped and turned around. "Geez lady, do you have to scream like that?"
  Jonathan frowned. He got some ear plugs out of his pack and put them in his ears (Where else?). "Okay," he said, turning to face the irate gryphon again. "You were screaming, uh, saying?"
  Suddenly a mysterious raven flew in, and launched sidewinder missiles at all of them, and ate lucky charms, listening to the clash. He screamed, "DISCORDIANS FOREVER, or at least for a few more minutes."

  As the ethereal mysterious creature entered looking around softly with stars shining in the background you'd swear it was real but she vanished; only an illusion, you really were on LSD.

  Suddenly, Pyrtlewing declared, "if you propose to someone through mail... I think a response by mail is appropriate. I mean, its good that the other person likes the ring, but a yes or no would be even better." She got up and said, "Shut up, whoever you are!" She then beat him to a pulp for being a Greenpeace-ing, communist faggot.

  And so our hero, having slain the the gigantic, hideous, fire spewing mail man with his great diamond blade, freed the impossibly beautiful vulpine princess, flew off with her in a mystical doggie dish into the slowly setting sun and produced a planet sized population of young in their modest little cabin on the third moon of Mars.
  However, his life of constant bliss was brought to an abrupt and screeching halt one sunny day, for while collecting firewood in the endless desert he glanced up and to his suprise spotted the evil Napa and Vegita rapidly descending from the heavens. GREAT SCOTT!!!
  Suddenly Vegita and Napa were swept away by... a giant chicken who just happened to by flying by and mistook them for food! They ran about blasting at the chicken, all to no avail as the chicken continued pecking at them repeatedly, wanting a snack!

  Like a metal praying Mantis, the irrigation frame slowly stalked around the circle. Sprays of rainbow lit water misted downwards. Here and there a black missile flew through the artifical rain, scattering droplets.
  The black missile dived upwards, then spread its wings as it propellered down and perched on a support beam; a crow.
  Unlike the robins, who spent their days busily feeding, the crow quickly finished the food gathering thing and spent the rest of the day playing around as crows are wont to do. As the night came down over the crows like a blanket of stars, Gerault stalked through the fields. Being an orphan and homeless, it was Gerault's only comfort to burrow under the bushes and roll in the cool grass of the open space. He would burrow into the bushes like a mole into the ground, which as everybody knows has poor eyesight.
  So a lot of mole eye doctors have cropped up in the past decade. Brady just happened to be one of those mole eye doctors. He was examining a young patient's eyes one day when he became suddenly lost in the blue sea before him, like staring into the night sky at the constellations...
  Brady stared at the images which swam in the mole's blue cornea, images of a park with creatures tall, short and wide. A dizzying motion zoomed in on the interior of a wood paneled lounge, the walls hung with odd portraits. Various beings sat patiently in padded chairs and pallets waiting for someone to ascend the podium and begin Short Short Story night...

  He gazed at the ground his brown eyes red from the tears that fell, tears that were shed in fury reflecting the cold, blue, beaming light that smoldered deep in his eyes like a hateful fire that gave no heat or comfort.
  He clenched his teeth as he spoke to the fates that brought him to this moment, to gods that didn't exist or would listen, to his own heaving soul.
  "I have been called a thief, a coward, a hero, a friend. I have been known as a fool, a dreamer, a lover, a loser. I will bear it. Here I stand on the edge of yesterday and tomorrow, and I plan to hurl myself over the precipice beyond the void... I am pain, I am grief, I am mourning..."
  With a clenched fist, he drew his eyes - eyes that spoke volumes even when silent, pools of agony and sadness - up towards the heavens and screamed. He screamed at the firmament with all his fury, a sum of all the hatred and rage that seethed in his tortured soul, and shook his fist at the stars, "I am implacable! I am unstoppable! I will cry out my warsong and it..."
  "Keep it down, I'm trying to sleep!" cried an irate mole, who in fact was not trying to sleep but to play a tune on a very expensive wineglass.
  Brady studied his reflection in the bowl of the glass, then gritted his teeth to make a funny face.
  Just then, an Irate Mole In A Badger Suit called out, "If you keep makin' that face, it'll stick thet way!" It then walked off to go make music with its friend, but heard the breaking of a glass. Instead, the IMIABS fell over and went to sleep, dreaming happy IMIABS dreams.

  Jonathan shook his head, trying to rid himself of the bad LSD trip he was having, but that didn't help. Instead he ran to the nearest cliff, thinking that it was a swimming pool and that he was being chased by angry moles and foxes with large missiles, and jumped off.

The End (so far?)