You have probably after reading the title of this chapter guessed that you will proceed to read about the two characters of Mr and Mrs Wrinkles. You may have supposed that these two, in this chapter, will go about many elderly escapades, no doubt enthused.
If you have thought this, you must get someone to pat you on your back, then they must pat you harder and then harder until you are punished enough. This chapter does not involve the two most elderly people mentioned so far in this epic novel. You know by reaching this point that you must never judge the outcome of one thing by what is supposed by something which is said. You must always expect random, nonsensical gibberish, as you will receive what you are expecting. However, if you expect such incomprehensive writing, you will be passing a supposition about this novel which is contrary to what you should do. Therefore, try not to expect anything that may be expected. Guatemalan quetzal plays a xylophone with great ease.
Bobolous and Carver had now reached Dubai and alongside the man baby and Ben were leading fairly happy yet confused lives. It was one Friday evening when the four and Biscuit were sitting outside sipping orange juice and watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon, to travel to other lands on the Earth some people lived on. Bobolous, staring at the reddening sky asked Carver a question which made Carver’s relaxed face tense up.
“Carver…”
“Yes, Bobolous.”
“Whatever happened to Patricia? I know there is no such course as Paris Hilton-ology and I know whe would have come back to apply for that model show. What really happened?”
Carver’s heart sped and the faces of all around seemed to be delving deep inside of him. He looked to see Ben’s face contain the same questioning look as Bobolous’s, which held the same concerned expression as the man baby, who had Biscuit on his lap, looking on in anticipation. The sky no longer seemed red, the world seemed dark. A trap. These people had cared for Carver in his time of need and welcomed him into their lives.
“Patricia… she… I don’t know.” Carver turned a purple colour and curled up into himself and away from the looming questions. He had lied through his teeth and felt dirty. The dirt that Lady Macbeth felt in Shakespeare’s famous play, the same dirt that Biscuit held after screeching at the postman. Carver could not take the unbearable feeling, so he blurted out the truth, but not quite the whole truth. “Patricia slipped on cheese, cucumber and beetroot. The she left forever.”
Seeing Carver’s distress, Bobolous calmed him and said that it was all okay, not asking any more for the time being.
Across numerous time zones towards the fields of Somerset, down in a cellar somewhere sat a girl. This girl was sat in a chair. She wore a short skirt and one high heeled shoe. Patricia was sat underneath a hanging light, a dripping of water constantly landing in front of her, creating a short puddle which rolled down the uneven floor to the corner. Her hands were tied up to either side of a chair. Yet her lips were still pouted. Her face was placed in what she thought to be the perfect position for those who stood in front of her to see.
“And I will ALWAYS love YOUUUUUU” The words came out of Patricia’s mouth like the scraping of a cat’s paws against a blackboard. “How was that, frog dude?”
The presifrog sighed and looked towards the girl. “It was…. Beautiful. Now can you please stop singing? I’m trying to figure out how to run the world.
“NO. I WILL NOT STOP SINGING. Unless you get me some bottled water, unlike this crap from the tap you’ve been feeding me.” Patricia flicked her head back, the extensions flying across the air and fluttered her false eyelashes. Her face was covered in mascara which had ran over her earlier when the presifrog refused to give her a foot massage.
The presifrog, not amused, told Patricia no before continuing to look on her and make sure she would not somehow free herself. “Patricia, I need you to help me. It’s the only reason you’re still alive. What would you like to eat?” The presifrog suddenly realised he had just asked Patricia what she wanted to eat. Eyes rolling, he prepared himself for what he knew was coming.
“I need Duck a l’Orange, topped with caviar and the rarest wild mushrooms around. I also need the scrapings of a freshly picked Portuguese lime on the top.” Of course, such a horrible meal would be horrific to eat, but Patricia was not aware of this. She insisted that if it was expensive, it tasted good.
“NO.” Shouted the presifrog, who was very annoyed and stormed out of the room, leaving Patricia alone.
Laying by her freed feet were a pair of scissors, a lighter, a candlestick, some rope and a note addressed to the presifrog containing all of the world’s secrets.
Patricia thought about what she could do here. So she used her feet, trained in the art of picking up, to grab the scissors. Now was the perfect opportunity to escape, but instead, Patricia picked up the piece of paper with her other foot and cut out a snowflake. Throwing the scissors to the floor, now further away than her feet could ever reach, she screamed at the top of her lungs “I’M BOOOOORED.”
Upstairs, if you looked out of a window, you could faintly see two police men knocking on nearby doors.
Patricia’s parents had reported her missing exactly thirteen days after she had left the house to go see a friend to pass on homework. They explained to the police how the longest party she had ever attended had lasted ten nights and ten days and that this was highly unusual for her. The police had typed up their things and were now knocking on doors with a picture of the girl asking locals of her whereabouts.
“Hello, have you seen this girl?” The police asked the homeowners they met.
“No” They would answer, or “Oh, that girl. Yes, I saw her a few months ago doing *insert absurd activity here*”. But none of the locals had seen the girl since she went missing. Hopeless, the police had reached the door of Carver. They knocked. Inside the house, the presifrog ran for a hiding place. He could not be seen. Patricia sat down wondering how many days made a week, and up the stairs of the basement walked someone.
“Hello there. Are you the owner of this house?”
“Yes, why?”
“Have you seen this girl?”
“Why no, no I haven’t. Why?”
“She’s been reported missing. Thank you for your time anyway, if you see or hear anything, please let us know.”
“Sure thing.”
The door closed and the presifrog got out of his hiding place. This person claiming to be Carver had lied through his teeth, but unlike the real Carver it was easy for him. He just let the words flow out whilst using his large eyes to stare directly in the face of the law. He felt no guilt, no remorse, so went back down the stairs to the basement, through the basement towards a door. Through the door into a small and empty space.
“Yo, weird dude. Come chat. And get me some nail polish whilst you’re at it. STAT.” Ordered Patricia, to be met by a silence, no acknowledgement whatsoever from this mysterious person.
Over the past few days, Patricia had heard many odd and peculiar things. It was in her head that lay the most important governmental and world and universal secrets of all time. She had overheard such things as the meaning of life, the whereabouts of the mountain where Narnia sits, the seep rooted secret behind toast and the plans to take over the worlds. She had surprisingly remembered all of these things. These things which she overheard the presifrog taking over with many others on the phone. It was Patricia who was now the most knowledgeable person in the entire world alongside the presifrog. She knew what no other human could dream of knowing. The presifrog knew nothing of her knowledge unitl the fourteenth night of her staying in his pesense.
Earlier in the day, Patricia had heard the presifrog talking about how the winning supermodel of the show Patricia wanted to enter for was actually a kangaroo dressed up in women’s clothing, which would aid kangaroo rights around the world and was part of a plan to increase the world’s IQ somehow by 76% per century,
Not knowing much about this, Patricia asked the question. “Yo. Frog dude or dudette whatever you are. Isn’t it against the rules to let a kangaroo win the show? LOL I thought they had to be human. LOL.” The words shocked the presifrog. “WHAT? How do you know about that?” His heart stopped for a beat whils Patricia blurted out her answer.
“Because you were talking on the phone about it. Like you were talking about how the dude in the cupboard is important to the world’s existence and yada yada yada you know?”
The presifrog could not risk the knowledge getting out. Nor could he risk killing Patricia, or he could be found out. Quickly thinking, he came up with a plan. “Oh that” He pretended to brush off the significance of the existence of the universes “Here, I’ve been thinking. If I let you go now, I’ll buy you those designer boots which you lectured me on the other day, that’s if you leave. If you stay, which I hope you do, you will get nothing.” The logic made no sense, but apparently it made perfect sence to Patricia,
“O. M. G. That’s such a fair offer. I mean, I AM amazing and all. Okay, I accept. Now free me and I’ll be back tomorrow to collect the sexy boots.”
“Just don’t tell anyone where you’ve been, or you won’t get the boots, okay? And don’t tell anyone about the secrets of the world either.”
“OKAY! Cool, see you later frog dude,”
Patricia was untied and picked up her snowflake she had cut out earlier. Then left the building. Patricia, however, never went back to collect the boots. For that night on her way home, as she was texting the Paris Hilton hotline, she did not look both ways as she was going across the runway to her home and was unfortunately was hit by a plane. The police ruled this as accidental death,, judging that over the past fourteen days she had been partying somewhere, due to the very short party skirt she wore.
Patricia had all of the knowledge in her head and now all of the knowledge was gone, but on the ripped and cut piece of paper which she had held in her last few minutes, lay distorted all of the secrets of the universe. On this snowflake could be found everything anyone would need to know to gain more control over the universes. The piece of paper which had floated out of her hand and landed on part of the plane which had hit her, remaining stuck on the plane with water. The plane, which was scheduled that day to land in Dubai.
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