"Sue's brother is coming to town!" excitedly exclaimed Marshfellow. "Hold on. Should I be excited for that? Her family hates me."
"I don't know!" the ghen shouted. "I don't even know you! I just want you to lose because you're a marshmallow!"
Marshfellow questioned, "Why do we even hang out?"
"We don't!" the ghen screeched. "I was just sitting here when you wouldn't be quiet! Why don't you just go home instead of waiting at the arena?!"
"I was hoping to see some cinnamon pretzel ladi-" Marshfellow sighed in reply.
"Cinnamon pretzel ladies? Where?" the ghen inquired passionately.
Marshfellow dejectedly stated, "They left with some newspaper, according to the narrator."
Wow. Way to throw me under the bus.
"Wait here a minute," the ghen said calmly. It then slowly walked towards my booth an- Security! Hel-
"What are you doing? Why am I- is that what I think it is? Bus driver! Do not accelerate! Oh, thank goodness. He sees me. Huh? No, do not take that ghen's money! Aahh! Help! Oh, thank goodness. Government employees. Huh? Do not get blackmailed by that ghen! If I make it out of this, I am telling everybody, regardless! Help! Oh, thank goodness. Security. It is about time! Darn, lazy emp- okay, okay! Thank you!"
Ahem. The ghen was clearly displeased to learn that the cinnamon pretzel ladies were no longer at the arena. Unfortunately, due to his displeasure, he was detained for further investigation as to why he would actually throw me under a bus!
"Harsh," mumbled Marshfellow, who inspired him to do it. "Hey! You're the one who mentioned throwing people under buses!"
"Because you did figuratively throw me under; thus, it is your fault!" I rebutted.
Marshfellow idiotically argued, "You could've used different words!"
"You could have not mentioned the cinnamon pretzel ladies!" I countered.
"You two could stop being so loud so I can introduce my brother!" yelled Sue. "Although, he is not exactly himself, so..."
"Greetings, friends!" greeted a friend, Sue's brother specifically, to Marshfellow and I.
"Uh," Marshfellow uttered, puzzled, "that's your brother?"
Sue scowled, "Yes, it is! You got a problem with that?!"
"Language, young lady!" chastised Boo.
Sue exhaled, then corrected herself, "Do you have a problem with that?"
"That is my girl!" proudly praised Boo. Where is her husband now?
"So you're related to a paper towel?" Marshfellow inquired.
Owels introduced himself, "Owels is how I introduce myself. You must be the marshmallow of whom I have heard so much. You are not as intimidating as they make you sound."
"Haters..." Marshfellow muttered.
"What?" asked all three members of the Hater family present. Where is their father and her husband?
"Right," admitted Marshfellow, I forgot that was your name. Well, nonetheless, y'all're haters."
"Indeed, but only of awful people such as yourself, you evil piece of sugar!" Boo confronted Marshfellow.
"Why do you think so little of me?" Marshfellow asked, genuinely confused.
"Because you are tiny! Guffaw!" cackled Boo.
Owels replied peacefully, "We know all regarding your negative treatment of Sue: the cheating, domestic abuse, slander, thiev-"
"I didn't do any of that!" Marshfellow outbursted. "Sue is the one that slanders, clearly!"
"Guffaw! Next, you will say that Sue intentionally had you get rid of her last boyfriend and childhood friend in those last two matches!" smirked Boo facetiously. "Then after that, she stole that non-stick glue from you!"
Marshfellow, after seeing the non-stick glue in Sue's hand, shouted, " That's where it's been! How did you even get that? It was in my locker."
"I do not know that about which you are talking," Sue said with a straight-face.
"Let's see the bottom then," challenged Marshfellow. "Thought so! It has my name at the bottom."
"That is only because I bought it for you as a present!" Sue cried.
"How dare you!" Boo howled.
"But it's in my handwriti-" Marshfellow protested ineffectively.
Boo commanded, "You bow to my child and apologize for all of your treachery, you fiend!"
"Calm down now, please, mother," Owels requested. "I have been recycled, so I am equipped to deal with one such as this."
"Alright, then! Get him!" yelled Boo. "That is right, boy! You mess with Sue, you must deal with her brother!"
"Look, sir," Owels began. "Let us come together and join hands so that we may seek repentance for this-"
"What?!" Boo interrupted. "Have you lost your mind, child?!"
"Yeah!" added Marshfellow. "I am not a sir! I've never been knighted. Also, I am not guil-"
"Hush, punk!" Boo blasted. "This will not do. Lou, er, Owels, or whatever your name is now, get in the arena with this loser harshmellow and teach him a lesson for real! He ruined your sister's life!"
"Yep," mumbled Sue, looking downward away from everybody else's gaze, "he sure did."
"Even so," Owels stated fairly, "everyone should be given a chance to repent; to be recycled."
"I'm a marshmallow," Marshfellow said, again, as usual, before something stupid. "I can't be recycled."
Yes, you c- Oh, that might be true this time. Continue, by all means.
Boo relented, "Fine, then. If you will not do something, I shall find somebody who will. Where is my husband?"
I have been asking that.
Marshfellow queried, "Where are the cinnamon pretzel ladies?"
"I have been asking that!" squawked a ghen, again; well, actually, for the first time. "Since that marshmallow won't tell me, I'll crush him the next time I get a chance!"
"I wish I could recruit you, sir," Boo remarked, "but I am guessing your presence behind a cell makes such an idea laughable."
"Hahahahaha! It sure is!" laughed Marshfellow.
"Actually," I interluded, "One way a person in arena jail may contest their imprisonment is collision as long as one individual with a perfect behavior record vouches for them."
Boo boomed with a gleam in her eyes, "I vouch for this ghen! What is your name again, sir?"
"Agen," Agen, a ghen, replied.
"What? How is that pronounced?" Boo asked.
"Agen," Agen, a ghen, again replied. "It is pronounced the same way that people typically anunciate the word 'again'."
"What a strange name," commented Marshfellow hypocritically.
"As if your name is any better, harshmellow!" Boo lambasted.
Thank you. Albeit, pretty hypocritical coming from her. Did Sue want to say something about weird names?
Owels sighed, then spoke softly, "This will not properly resolve any of our differences nor disputes. Let us find a more direct, peaceful mannner t-"
"Quiet, you!" shouted Agen and Boo simultaneously.
"What marvelous, attractive candor," seductively expressed Boo.
"Mother!" Sue protested. Where is her father?
"You even speak so properly!" exquisitely exclaimed Boo.
Agen admitted, "Well, I've been known to use contractions here and there."
"Well, still," she insisted, "not bad. Maybe after the match, you and I ca-"
"Mother!" Sue yelled. "All of the times you have gotten on my case for contractions and now you are going to say it is alright?!"
"Hush, child!" chided Boo and Agen, simultaneously, again; a newspaper and a ghen.
"What is a ghen?" Marshfellow ignorantly asked, revealing his racism again.
"Be quiet, punk!" lambasted the married female newspaper and incarcerated male owl with extremely soft, fuzzy wool rather than feathers. "My goodness!"
Where is her husband?
"I love the way you quiet people," Agen complimented Boo. "It's much better than the girl from the spinoff."
"And you are not orange," Boo reciprocated. "How honorable."
These are weird compliments.
Read spinoffs, kids. Sometimes, they come back into the main storyline. Wish I had known that sooner.
"Eww!" exclaimed Sue, disgusted. "What about father?"
Where is her father?
"Let him play with his cinnamon ladies," Boo scoffed.
"Cinnamon PRETZEL ladies," corrected Marshfellow.
"Who needs cinnamon pretzel ladies with a newspaper like that around you?" Agen rhetorically asked.
Boo swooned, "Agen!"
"Can we start the match before his delusions become contagious?" requested Marshfellow.
"Definitely," responded Sue and I in tandem. "Uh, oh. Do we have to-"
Now with the match starting; thank goodness, I dodged a newspaper; Agen, again, a ghen, bellowed, "This one is for you, Boo!"
"Thank you!" she squealed in delight.
"Eww!" shrieked Sue.
Where is her father?
"Here I am!" said Mr. Hater, away from the arena, still playing with cinnamon pretzel ladies. That does not count as being here, though.
"Let us get teddy to tumble! Collide!" I announced.
"I'll teach- I will teach you, marshmallow!" Agen said, correcting himself for Boo's sake.
"What?" Marshfellow inquisitvely quipped. "How to lose?"
"Sure!" responded Agen. "You're going to learn how you lose today! You are, that is."
"Stop trying to impress my mother!" screamed Sue.
"But we all know how bad Marshfellow treated you!" everybody in the arena other than Marshfellow and Sue clamored at once.
"Yep," Sue stammered, staring at the ground, "he-he did awful things... so, s-so very awful..."
Marshfellow shouted, "I don't know what I did!"
"Well, let us go over the accusations," suggested Owels.
"Fine, if it means this stupid marshmallow cannot play stupid any longer," Boo acquiesced.
After three-and-a-half hours, Sue finally admitted, "Alright, alright! I lied!"
"Okay. That makes a lot more sense," said the handsomest narrator of them all.
"But why?" the far uglier marshmallow she was dating inquired. "What did you get outta this?"
She defended, "I made my ex and childhood friend feel like they were loved! I made the latter's family feel supported! That counts for something, right?!"
"The government employees that refused to help me earlier danced around in pink leotards to 'God Save the Queen'. It is on video," I announced on the microphone vengefully.
"No, because they're all lies," explained Agen, no longer correcting himself. "Not the leotards; that's true; I have the video. You, Sue, did what you did to get pity; respect; attention; all at this poor marshmallow's expense. Truly despicable."
"I am sorry!" Sue wailed.
"Well, guess we gotta change her name, then," casually commented Marshfellow. "How about Harlie the sorry?"
Harlie begged, "Please, no! Just forgive me!"
"Where did I go wrong with you, Harlie?" Boo asked, discouragingly.
Harlie screamed, "Stop it!"
"Vroom, vroom!" referenced Marshfellow.
The audience then mimicked the mocking until it turned into a chant. "Vroom, vroom! Vroom, vroom! Vroom, vroom!"
"News flash: you are all terrible," muttered Harlie. Oh, I thought you guys quit doing the news flash thing.
Boo repudiated, "Headline: you deserve it, young lady! I cannot believe all of this slipped under my radar..."
"Neither can I," added Agen. "I can't be against this marshmallow, as much as he did give a false luring of cinnamony goodnes-"
"You made the assump-" interjected Marshfellow.
"Be quiet, fool!" Agen and Boo, simultaneously, again, thundered; a ghen and a newspaper.
We should have called this chapter: "Agen, Again, a Ghen." I could write a chapter title better than this.
Agen, a ghen, started again, "He has endured much at the mouth of Harlie; thus, I forfeit. I want to see what the cloud is like anyways."
"Hmm," Marshfellow mumbled to himself, "Should I just go to the cloud to figure it out? Nah, I like winning. Also, I don't know what would happen."
"What about me?" cried Boo. "Breaking news: I am in love with you!"
Been awhile since one of you said "breaking news," has it not?
Agen lamented, "I can't be with someone who would raise a vile daughter such as Harlie."
"Hey!" shrieked Harlie.
"I understand," Boo softly spoke. "I am very ashamed of Harlie."
"Mother!" cried out Sue- I mean, Harlie, angrily. "Narrator!"
Boo implored Agen, "What if I try again with a ghen named Agen to make a respectable child? We could have a son named David, for example."
"Eww!" Harlie screeched in disgust.
"Perhaps," said Agen, "but this must occur on the cloud, since I don't have freedom down here."
"You are darn right!" I hollered.
"I will go anywhere with you, sweetie," Boo swore.
Where is her husband?
"I am right here," he said, actually here this time; with no cinnamon pretzel ladies; as his wife was swept off of her feet by a ghen soaring to the cloud. "What the-"
"Good luck, mother!" Hater, Owels the paper towel shouted into the distance. "Perfect timing, father! I have news for you."
"Marshfellow tricked that ghen into capturing mother and keeping her prisoner on the cloud!" blurted Harlie, sorrier than ever.
The audience clamored in Marshfellow's defense until Harlie took an aside glance in their direction, loudly whispering, "We might get an interesting collision if we play along." The crowd generally agreed.
"Oh, come on!" Marshfellow whimpered.
"Head line!" blasted Stu Hater the newspaper. Is he going to finish the statement?
"Is he going to finish the statement?" Marshfellow queried.
"That was the whole statement!" Stu roared. "I shall put your head into a line!"
I think that needs more context.
Make certain your threats are clear and concise, kids.
"Bring it!" challenged Marshfellow. "I'll put your whole body into a line!"
Really? He is usually better at trash talk.
"I shall put every little granule of sugar you have into a line!" Stu escalated.
"Not my anti-gravity sugars!" openly worried Marshfellow. "That does it! I'll whoop you so bad, I'll put you into a line and have your wife put on a cloud!"
The crowd gasped.
"Too soon, huh?" Marshfellow inquired. "Wait a minute! I didn't even do that! Y'all know that I'm innoce-"
"I will beat the white off of you!" Stu hollered.
You can make s'mores by hitting marshmallows with newspapers? Fascinating idea! Let us try this!
Now that it has been a few hours, kids, do not try to make s'mores, or at least melted marshmallows, with newspapers as the light. They can be lit, but they themselves do not possess the ability to light a flame.
"Well, at the very least there is entertainment for next chapter," Harlie grinned. "News flash: my boyfriend and father are fighting over me!"
"Because of you," I corrected. "They are fighting over your mother."
Harley shook her head in disgust. "Eww!"
"You're the one who lied to make it happen!" shouted Marshfellow.
This is a long chapter.
"Wow! I can't believe I did it!" said our first sweepstakes winner, finally inside the story. "Narrator! Let me get a good look at you."
But the chapter is ending. There is no time.
"But the time you're taking to explain this could be used to let me see you!" explained our contest winner.
Okay, fine.
"Yippee!" the contestant cheered. "Now let's just- what? What is that? What is that encroaching wall?"
That is the end of the chapter.
"Nooo!" whined the winner. "I was so clos-"