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The Pokémon Peninsula > Fanfics Juxtaposition, by Jedi_Amara Author's Note: Inspiration? One name. Lazlo Woodbine. Never heard of him? Look up the author Robert Rankin and read his books. ^______^ Also the Diamond Brothers - look up Anthony Horowitz. Apart from that, I'm just fairly crazy~ Riiiiiiight? ^________________^ I suppose you could call this an exercise in voice, if that helps explain away my craziness ^__________^. This was going to be called "Juxtaposition", and then I recalled reading a book named that, so I renamed it to "Juxtaposition, or, Them Things That Go On Top Of Each Other", with grammar after the style of "The Hobbit, or, There And Back Again" :). I'm not entirely happy with the title, and I'll almost certainly rename the fic before submitting it to be reviewed by Frosty XD. Oh, and this first chapter is fairly short - the others will probably be longer, though I'm not sure how long I can keep writing in Harry's voice XD. I'm not particu-lar-ly good at it. :) Disclaimers: I don't own Pokémon or any related names/indicia. I own my OCs. Spelling/Language: Australian spelling ('-our', '-tre'). Grammatical errors are intentional. --------------------------- Chapter 1
Not 'cause that's my name, right? 'Cause I de-tects stuff. Course, I in-vest-i-gates stuff too, right? But then they'd call me Vex, and that's not a good name for a man in my line of work. The missus, she says I vexes her alright, but a man in my line of work's gotta do what he's gotta do, an' if the missus don't like it, well, that's the way it's gotta be. See? Now, everything makes sense when you looks at it the right way, in'nit? An' course, that's my job, in'nit? Lookin' at stuff. Lookin' at it right. So this is where we begins. I'm sittin' at my desk with my feet up, just relaxing kinda, and I'm just about to light my cigar. Now, a man needs a cigar once in a while, and I needs one more than most, for I've a lot of stress, right? Or so that's what the world's gotta believe about me, see? Shows I'm doin' my job right. So I'm lightin' my cigar, and the missus calls in to me, she does. "Harry Weatherall," she says, for that's my name, "Harry, there's a phone call for you." So I puts down my cigar and I goes into the kitchen and I means to take the call, I does, but what's sittin' on the table, a fine smell risin' off of it? It's a pie, a pum'kin pie. Now, Elsie, that's the missus, she knows I can't resist a fine pum'kin pie, and Elsie, she makes the finest pum'kin pie this side of the equator. So she's just temptin' me, isn't she, knowin' I won't be able to let it go. O' course I've just gotta sit down and snaffle up that fine-lookin' pie while she's out at the line, and when I picks up the phone, well, whatta you know? Fellow who's called, well, he's hung up, hasn't he? So I sighs, I walks back into my office, and my desk's on fire. Turns out it's been my cigar set it off, and doesn't the missus crow. ********** Later that night, I goes to sit at the table, for it's dinner-time,
and I calls for Elsie to bring me my dinner, and I eats my hat if she
doesn't slap down a slab of bread and a pat of butter in front of me. So it comes after dinner, an' afore I forgets I flicks on the tel-lee-vision
ready for my fav'rite show, an' I sees the news. Now the lass who reads
the news, Lindsey her name is, is a fair fine figure of a girl, so
I settles in an' I watches the tail-end of the news. |
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