Written by Jean Le Fete
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Tags: The Spoof

Friday, 1 October 2010

image for Born To Spoof: Chapter 1: I Am Tied Up In the Writer's Lounge Terrarium and Forced to Watch Mating Gerbils Spoof Writer Jean Claude Van Damnit: Trapped in The Spoof Writer's Terrarium

London's underbelly - The smell of rotting bannanas was overwhelming as I came off of the subway in lower Dorchestorshire of Loxley. The fog was relentless as I emerged into the night at 2am. Then I saw her, a red head with the most incredible gams I'd ever seen. She looked me over as if I was a piece of meat, and not a particularly good piece, but maybe I'd do.

"What cat dragged you down here?" she asked pausing for a lengthy drag on her cigerette.

"A cat named desire," I replied, but then as the banannas continued to nauseate me, my look betrayed me.

"Desire for what?" she asked, her face coming inches from mine, she smelled faintly of jasmine, "Rotting bannanas? I know a place...we can get out of the fog."

"That's what I came here for,"I said. She turned from me then turnd back.

"I'll change your mind about that." she whispered mysteriously, then she beckoned me to follow her across the street towards a strange light. The light turned out to be a neon sign, "The Spoof Writer's Pub", then in smaller letters flashing out of sync,"Members Only". She paused at the door.

"Once you go through these doors, there is no turning back," she said seductively, watching for my reaction.

"It says members only and I'm not a member," I said apprehensively.

"Wait here," she replied, "This will just take a minute. I'll fix everything. Oh and by the way my name is Carina, but you will know me only as Number 3."

She entered The Spoof Writer's Pub, leaving me to ponder what I was getting myself into. Did I care? Not much, I was a single middle-aged man with no family or real friends, I had nothing to lose. I had even given up my high security clearance job, quit, walked out, during a meeting to discuss nothing less than the future of the United Kingdom as we know it...

It was after this thought that I saw the giant orange orb out of the corner of my right eye rolling deliberately down the street towards my location. It must have been 8 ft in diameter, glowing menacingly as it pierced the fog. I had seen the orb before in a technology briefing, it was not for beach parties, but rather for retrieval of disobedient public servants, such as myself. I decided to take my chances inside The Spoof.

Inside there was no sign of the red head, the one known as Carina...or rather #3. In fact the place looked nothing like a pub, to my right was a set of large mirrors. In the middle of the room was what looked like a large terrarium and to the left was a large television monitor at least 12ft by 15ft. The screen was black, but then it flickered and a silly little man with a mustache appeared.

"Number 3, I say are you there number 3?"

I looked around me and nobody appeared, but since he didn't appear to be addressing me I decided to remain silent.

"I am here one known as Mark Lowton." replied #3 appearing out of... I wasn't sure where.

"No please, I've told you before, from now on I will only be known to you as "Mark."

"Yes my liege." said #3

"Noooooo! Not my liege! Mark! M-a-r-k Mark! said the man.

"Yes M-mmark," said #3 with apparent difficulty, "I have brought you a new writer," she said motioning to me.

"Oh! Quite! So you have, well, well, well, what have we here? What's your name lad?"

I didn't know what to do, but with the orb looming outside, becoming a writer seemed the lesser of two evils, certainly better than dieing or being reprogrammed. I thought I was being asked to speak, but then...

"Put him in the terrarium #3, let's see if he is really Spoof material."

"Follow me," said #3, "Don't say a word, do as you're told, he doesn't mean for you to speak."

I watched her enter the "Terrarium" and followed her inside, not knowing what awaited me there....

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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