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The Tale Of A Corporate Snail MAG
The following work was written purely from imagination in a sort of game where one person writes a sentence or two, then the other person reads it and continues. It's rather fun, and as you will see by reading the following story, the results can be rather ... well, you can come up with your own adjective.
Once upon a time there were three teenagers. Their names were, Bill Ben, and Bart. They were all very bored, but couldn't find a thing to do. So they decided to skip school for a day and go to Boston.
While they were there Bart sneezed and blew his brains right out. Ben tried a bit of Bart's brains and decided that they were delicious. So Bill, who was actually a snail, leapt into his Batman outfit and arrested them both. So Bart, who was still quite alive, started to eat Bill's brains.
Suddenly, Escargotius (the snail god) appeared and evaporated Bart in return for Bill's Batman costume (an even trade). Ben fought on Bart's behalf and bombarded Escargotius with taunts, such as "Dirt for brains" and Slimefoot." Escargotius screamed and began to shrivel up as if Ben had put him in a vat of salt. Finally all that was left was a small trail of slime and a tearful Bill.
Bill slithered away in sorrow and as he passed a magazine rack he noticed the latest issue of G.Q. So he ran out and bought the most expensive suit in the issue, then got a job as the IBM corporate manager making almost $800,000 per year.
One day while he was watching the renowned musical by Gilbert and Sullivan, H.M.S. Pinafore, he noticed a beautiful young girl (well actually she was only four) sitting a few rows down from him. She was crying at the beautiful and romantic play or maybe because her mother wouldn't let her eat her Babe Ruth bar until intermission. So Bill slithered slowly down the aisle (after all, he's a snail) and ripped the Babe Ruth bar from the mother's grasp, and ate it quickly, wrapper and all! The girl was so upset that she pulled out a salt shaker and mercilessly began dumping it on Bill. Little did she know, the Babe Ruth bar had given Bill extraordinary powers. He became "Hesnail" - Corporate Manager of the Multiverse, and exuded a greenish yellow mucus which dissolved the salt, the little girl, and her mother (the aftermath of this action caused eight small universes to disappear completely). The little girl was so awed by Hesnail's majestic powers that she dropped to her knees and professed undying love for him. However, when she did that she was in ghost form because she had just dissolved. So Bill ignored her and said to Rebecca Freedman in that loud booming voice which all snails have, "Read more carefully!" Rebecca glanced over the partition that separated her from her pal Tom and in one super intelligent moment said, "Oops" and continued with the story.
Suddenly, a small child, no more than five years old, said, "Hey! He's not a corporate manager, he's just a snail!" This remark staggered Bill, who, for the first time realized that not only was he a snail, but he was a rather small snail (about 2"). Extremely embarrassed, Bill slithered in a snail-like way, and set out for a well-known hangout for corporate snails who have realized that they can't fit into a business suit. On the way there he had an inspiration. He decided what he really wanted to do, what his life's destiny was heading toward: Painting the yellow lines on highways!! So he put on a sheepskin (disguise) and went to the nearest paint store. When he got there someone screamed, "Wolf!!" but then realized the trick and said, "No, no, it's just a snail in sheep's clothing, as a matter of fact, it's rather small snail." Humiliated, Bill slithered out of the store, his idea lost its vigor and Bill chalked it up to the depraved imagination of a once executive snail who now couldn't even afford to have his shoes shined (not to say he wore shoes, but you get the point).
So Bill decided to make a change. Not realizing that it was impossible for a snail to do, he built himself a cocoon and emerged two months later as ... a snail!!!
His dreams were restored, his hope renewed. That happy-go-lucky snail was back and ready to roll with the punches, cross all boundaries, and stand tall and proud like a snail should , even if he was a rather small snail.
Moral: Every rather small, corporate managing snail should weave himself a cocoon.
Never let two pals with vivid imaginations write a short story together. n