Percy Thrillington
The Mad Hatter
- 4,425
- Posts
- 16
- Years
- Seen Jan 1, 2023
Note: The following is dedicated to BeachBoy. Why? Don't ask. That's just the way it is. Also, both characters were based on him. That's got your attention, hasn't it?
The Case of the Disappearing Cat
It was a bright Tuesday morn, and our favourite protagonist Dash O' Pepper was enjoying a hardboiled egg when the phone rang. Unfortunately for the caller, Dash was enjoying his egg so much that he didn't hear the phone ringing. Obviously this meant that the egg was super delicious, as Dash was always aware of what was going on around him. Unless there was something massive distracting him. A good example of this would be the time Dash's friend (known as Parmonella) attempted to rob the same shop Dash happened to be late at night a few weeks ago. Dash, however, was completely oblivious to this as there was a cute girl at the sandwitch bar and his hormones were fluttering all over the place! Even after the untimely deaths of the cute girl and Parmonella, Dash didn't seem to have learned his lesson about always knowing what was going on. Because of this, the phone rang out and Dash would never know who called him as the caller was using the cool 'Caller ID Unknown' feature on his or her mobile phone. Dash, being utterly unaware of what the absolute choas unfolding in the next room, nodded to himself, and decided to pour some salt upon his already deliciously tasting hardboiled egg. As he did so, the top of the salt shaker fell off and too much salt fell on Dash's egg!
"Oh no!" Dash yelled, putting his hands on his cheeks like a maiden in distress. "Whatever will become of my egg now?"
Dash took a deep breath in. He knew that the fate of his hardboiled egg (his breakfast) rested in what he was about to do next. Gingerly, he poked a finger into the sea of salt and pushed it as far as if could go until he felt something solid. "Aha!" He exclaimed triumphantly. "There's my egg!" Dash concentrated as best he could as he carefully lifted his egg out of the white desert that now inhabited his plate. As soon as he managed to retreive it, he took a bite of it (which in his mind was like giving the egg CPR) and instantly spit it out. "Ew!" He shouted in disgust. "My egg tastes awfully salty!"
It took Dash a couple of seconds to figure out why. "Of course!" He said to himself which such amazement, one could be forgiven for thinking he had just discovered a way to get Sarah Palin to shut up for once. "I have yet to wipe the salt off!"
So he did and boy, did that egg taste scrumptious!
Later that day, when Dash was busy caring to his dog (who suffered from Tuberculosis), the phone rang again, and this time Dash heard it. The screech of the Nokia ringtone was enough to make Dash feel uncomfortable. Well, not really. That part was just added in there to increase the intensity factor of the story. In reality, Dash could totally picture himself playing air guitar and humming the tune to himself. Anyway, Dash told his whining, dying dog that he would 'brb' (most would agree that this meant that he would be right back, but others argue that it means he would 'beat Ryan's barracuda'. Now, there is no evidence produced today to prove that Dash ever knew a person called Ryan, but it is still considered to be a valid theory by many of the people studying Dash's strange case).
As Dash slowly walked towards the table he had left his phone on the night before, when he was talking that that Lucy guy. The constant ring coming from the phone was literally like music to his ears, so he closed his eyes and decided to let the music guide him to where he needed to go. A couple of seconds later he slipped on a piece of ham and fell backwards onto his wrist, spraining it. He ignored the pain and got back up, determined to answer his phone.
Five seconds later, just as the caller was about to give up, Dash answered. "Hello?"
"Is this, eh, Dash O' Pepper?" The voice was coated with a thick New York accent. Dash wasn't surprised. He lived in New York.
"Yes. What can I do for you today, sir?" Dask asked, wincing in pain as he remembered the damage he had done to his wrist several seconds ago.
"My name is Tony Pyjamas." Tony replied hurriedly. There was urgency in his voice. Urgency that gave Dash the feeling he was onto something big. "You're a private detective, right?" Not waiting for an answer, Tony pushed on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Dash was close to passing out with the pain. "I require your, eh, services. See, my cat's gone missing and I need help tryin' to find her."
Dash breathed in deeply and when he spoke, he tried to make it sound like his voice wasn't choking and that he wasn't crying. "I see. When did your cat disappear? I'm going to have to come over to your place to search for..." Dash trailed off for a few seconds for emphasis. "Clues."
"Yeah, whatever, just find my cat. I live in Candy Mountain, number 123." Tony Pyjamas hung up, but not before Dash heard a gunshot from wherever Tony was.
Dash was in two minds about going to Candy Mountain council estate. For one, he couldn't drive with a sprained wrist, although he had been managing well enough for the past fifteen minutes. Secondly, it was Candy Mountain. One of the dodgiest places around. On the other hand, it was his first job in four months, and that was enough to get him behind the wheel.
Just as Dash was eating some toast with one hand and steering with it too, his car jumped up and he heard an almighty smash as the Volvo hit the pavement. Curious, Dash stopped the car (causing a massive traffic jam) and looked down the road to see what had caused the car to be lifted up.
"My God." Dash looked at a cat's corpse, just a couple of metres ahead of him. "I must have run him over!" He slowly moved towards the cat. At once, he noticed the collar around the rare Siamese in front of him. He bent down and looked at it. There was a piece of paper attached to it that said, 'if you find this cat, please call Tony Pyjamas on 7926-763557'.
Dash looked away. His case was ruined.
A couple of minutes later, Tony Pyjamas opened the door to see the corpse of his recently deceased cat lying in the hands of a stranger. Dash could see blood on a shirt he thought would look pretty groovy on him, but that's not important.
"I found your cat. Unfortunately, the pirates had already made him participate in numerous knife fights with monkeys before I stumbled upon him. I did everything I could, but unfortunately mouth-to-mouth didn't work. I'm sorry for your loss, Tony." Dash said, shaking his head in sorrow.
"Meh, it's okay. I'm not in debt anymore so I don't need the cat anyway." Tony shrugged. Then he looked up. "Hey, you wanna play scrabble?"
"Sure!" Dash said.
Now, Tony and Dash play scrabble every Tuesday night. They call it scrabble night. Although Tony has somtimes called it bite night because Dash bites Tony on the shoulder whenever he loses. And the case of the disappearing cat was solved. Just one of the many glorious adventures of our favourite protagonist, Dash O' Pepper.
Thank you and goodnight.
The Case of the Disappearing Cat
It was a bright Tuesday morn, and our favourite protagonist Dash O' Pepper was enjoying a hardboiled egg when the phone rang. Unfortunately for the caller, Dash was enjoying his egg so much that he didn't hear the phone ringing. Obviously this meant that the egg was super delicious, as Dash was always aware of what was going on around him. Unless there was something massive distracting him. A good example of this would be the time Dash's friend (known as Parmonella) attempted to rob the same shop Dash happened to be late at night a few weeks ago. Dash, however, was completely oblivious to this as there was a cute girl at the sandwitch bar and his hormones were fluttering all over the place! Even after the untimely deaths of the cute girl and Parmonella, Dash didn't seem to have learned his lesson about always knowing what was going on. Because of this, the phone rang out and Dash would never know who called him as the caller was using the cool 'Caller ID Unknown' feature on his or her mobile phone. Dash, being utterly unaware of what the absolute choas unfolding in the next room, nodded to himself, and decided to pour some salt upon his already deliciously tasting hardboiled egg. As he did so, the top of the salt shaker fell off and too much salt fell on Dash's egg!
"Oh no!" Dash yelled, putting his hands on his cheeks like a maiden in distress. "Whatever will become of my egg now?"
Dash took a deep breath in. He knew that the fate of his hardboiled egg (his breakfast) rested in what he was about to do next. Gingerly, he poked a finger into the sea of salt and pushed it as far as if could go until he felt something solid. "Aha!" He exclaimed triumphantly. "There's my egg!" Dash concentrated as best he could as he carefully lifted his egg out of the white desert that now inhabited his plate. As soon as he managed to retreive it, he took a bite of it (which in his mind was like giving the egg CPR) and instantly spit it out. "Ew!" He shouted in disgust. "My egg tastes awfully salty!"
It took Dash a couple of seconds to figure out why. "Of course!" He said to himself which such amazement, one could be forgiven for thinking he had just discovered a way to get Sarah Palin to shut up for once. "I have yet to wipe the salt off!"
So he did and boy, did that egg taste scrumptious!
Later that day, when Dash was busy caring to his dog (who suffered from Tuberculosis), the phone rang again, and this time Dash heard it. The screech of the Nokia ringtone was enough to make Dash feel uncomfortable. Well, not really. That part was just added in there to increase the intensity factor of the story. In reality, Dash could totally picture himself playing air guitar and humming the tune to himself. Anyway, Dash told his whining, dying dog that he would 'brb' (most would agree that this meant that he would be right back, but others argue that it means he would 'beat Ryan's barracuda'. Now, there is no evidence produced today to prove that Dash ever knew a person called Ryan, but it is still considered to be a valid theory by many of the people studying Dash's strange case).
As Dash slowly walked towards the table he had left his phone on the night before, when he was talking that that Lucy guy. The constant ring coming from the phone was literally like music to his ears, so he closed his eyes and decided to let the music guide him to where he needed to go. A couple of seconds later he slipped on a piece of ham and fell backwards onto his wrist, spraining it. He ignored the pain and got back up, determined to answer his phone.
Five seconds later, just as the caller was about to give up, Dash answered. "Hello?"
"Is this, eh, Dash O' Pepper?" The voice was coated with a thick New York accent. Dash wasn't surprised. He lived in New York.
"Yes. What can I do for you today, sir?" Dask asked, wincing in pain as he remembered the damage he had done to his wrist several seconds ago.
"My name is Tony Pyjamas." Tony replied hurriedly. There was urgency in his voice. Urgency that gave Dash the feeling he was onto something big. "You're a private detective, right?" Not waiting for an answer, Tony pushed on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Dash was close to passing out with the pain. "I require your, eh, services. See, my cat's gone missing and I need help tryin' to find her."
Dash breathed in deeply and when he spoke, he tried to make it sound like his voice wasn't choking and that he wasn't crying. "I see. When did your cat disappear? I'm going to have to come over to your place to search for..." Dash trailed off for a few seconds for emphasis. "Clues."
"Yeah, whatever, just find my cat. I live in Candy Mountain, number 123." Tony Pyjamas hung up, but not before Dash heard a gunshot from wherever Tony was.
Dash was in two minds about going to Candy Mountain council estate. For one, he couldn't drive with a sprained wrist, although he had been managing well enough for the past fifteen minutes. Secondly, it was Candy Mountain. One of the dodgiest places around. On the other hand, it was his first job in four months, and that was enough to get him behind the wheel.
Just as Dash was eating some toast with one hand and steering with it too, his car jumped up and he heard an almighty smash as the Volvo hit the pavement. Curious, Dash stopped the car (causing a massive traffic jam) and looked down the road to see what had caused the car to be lifted up.
"My God." Dash looked at a cat's corpse, just a couple of metres ahead of him. "I must have run him over!" He slowly moved towards the cat. At once, he noticed the collar around the rare Siamese in front of him. He bent down and looked at it. There was a piece of paper attached to it that said, 'if you find this cat, please call Tony Pyjamas on 7926-763557'.
Dash looked away. His case was ruined.
A couple of minutes later, Tony Pyjamas opened the door to see the corpse of his recently deceased cat lying in the hands of a stranger. Dash could see blood on a shirt he thought would look pretty groovy on him, but that's not important.
"I found your cat. Unfortunately, the pirates had already made him participate in numerous knife fights with monkeys before I stumbled upon him. I did everything I could, but unfortunately mouth-to-mouth didn't work. I'm sorry for your loss, Tony." Dash said, shaking his head in sorrow.
"Meh, it's okay. I'm not in debt anymore so I don't need the cat anyway." Tony shrugged. Then he looked up. "Hey, you wanna play scrabble?"
"Sure!" Dash said.
Now, Tony and Dash play scrabble every Tuesday night. They call it scrabble night. Although Tony has somtimes called it bite night because Dash bites Tony on the shoulder whenever he loses. And the case of the disappearing cat was solved. Just one of the many glorious adventures of our favourite protagonist, Dash O' Pepper.
Thank you and goodnight.
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