Morts' Belated Birthday

Posted On: Saturday, 2 November 2002, at 12:02 a.m.

Sarah Marie paced back and forth, racking her small brain for the perfect gift for Mortie. The Dwiggie's birthday had already passed and our noble authoress was at her wits end! Nothing seemed perfect for her friend! That is until an idea struck her. Why not write an embarrassing story revealing all of Mortie's deep dark secrets? With an evil grin, she began to furiously type away, spreading her evil and insanity once again!

I know that if you haunt the DWG, you are sure to have come across the dwiggie called Mortie at least once. Whether it be in chat or on the boards, you know that she is one of us.

Sarah looked at what she had just wrote. It lacked the extra something that showed the insanity of the whole situation. After all, second rate writing wasn't good enough for a close friend like Mortie! Racking her brain, she decided that she needed a partner in all of this. Her first thought led her straight to Saphrie, but then Sarah remembered that she was busy writing essays. Then, her mind led her to the Queen of Insanity (formerly known as Tabbi), but knew that her highness was busy with work.

Tapping her foot, Sarah couldn't think of anyone that would be free to help her harass Mortie. That is until her twisted brain came across one name. With a horrified look, she reasoned with herself. There had to be someone else! Surely, stooping to those levels of sheepdom would be most unattractive!

Going through all the usual, and not so usual, suspects, Sarah realised that she had no other choice. She would have to go to depths she would rather leave unexplored. Hanging her head low, she finally decided who would be her temporary partner in insanity...Adam Cuerden.

After getting his approval of the nonsensical partnership, Madame Authoress set out once more to write the story of all stories!

As our noble Dwiggie made her way through the havoc of the DWG, she spotted her true love. Running to him, Mortie managed to dodge the flying fish that came from all directions. Reaching him, she was in store for the shock of her life. At that very moment, the man before her raised his hand to his face to only pull away the mask that he had been wearing! Now, before her, stood one lecherous Wickham!

When he first took off the mask, she was enraged. How dare anyone try to impersonate her beloved Colonel. However, when he locked eyes with her, she felt her heart rate increase. Until that moment, she never noticed how beautiful the rake's eyes were. The way they twinkled when the light hit them the right way...

Seeing that he had another lovely victim in front him, Wickham huskily said to the Dwiggie, "What's a pretty young thing like you doing around a place like this?"

Going to swoon at any moment, she shakily answered, "I ask myself that all the time."

Seeing that he had her in his clutches, he said...

Sarah realised at this point that her insane story was quickly turning into a cheesy romance novel! Hitting her head on the table a few billion times, the Psychic Psychotic saw that her would be Birthday Present was going down the drain! Sighing, she decided to take a dose of insanity and continue the story after Adam finished with his input.

You know, the sheep would have protected me.

Sorry?

The sheep. In the Death Match. From Collins.

Adam, this isn't about you!!! This is about Mortie and her present! For once, would you think about someone else!

But your Death Match is all wrong! And he fell on me? Come on, I at least deserve to be eaten whole then stalk off from the Hunsford latrine three days later. You can at least give me the dignity of a properly embarrassing death if you must engage me in a deathmatch.

You? Be given any kind of dignity? You have to be kidding me! You deserve nothing of the sort!

Oh, is that so, Lady Catherine? No wonder you feel such a close attachment to Collins...

Lady Catherine!?!? You're either really dumb or just really trying to tick me off! Fine! If you think you can do any better, then why won't you write a death match, you two bit hack!

Well, fine then!

A large, hairy, bearded, tattooed man walked out at this point. "Well then! There's no choice for you but to start a death match!"

Well, yes... that's sort of what we just agreed. Hey, hold on, aren't you one of my shepherds?

"Er, yes. Evil Shepherd #301, in charge of the Bangor area sheep farms, my lord."

Well., get back to work! Those sheep need to be loved and cared for!

The shepherd's eyes lit up with evil glee, and he ran off.

"Right. Very well!" He snapped his fingers.

"ARE WE READY TO RUMMMMMMBLLLLEEEEEEEEEEE???!!!!"

"Er, yeah, Stan! It looks like these two are ready to rumble! This is a grudge match of the highest order, and one of the few examples of people surviving....."

"Ye gods, won't they ever just shut up? Hey, wait a minute! I thought Tabbi killed you!" said Adam.

"Er," said Stan, "it was only a few light internal injuries, concussions, and broken bones. Luckily we landed on our heads. Isn't that right, Dan?"

"Yes, yes it is, Stan!"

"They're even stupider than me!" commented the farmer.

"And that's a pretty hard accomplishment!" replied Sarah.

"Well, there's only one thing to do..."

They grinned evilly at each other. "Warm-up mayhem!"

The two of them rushed towards the hapless announcers.

"And now the two of them are coming towards us with evil gleams in their eyes. What do you think that means, Ant? I mean, Stan."

"Well, I don't know, Dec. I mean, Dan."

"Aha!" exclaimed Saphrie leaping to her feet. It is all so clear! The old announcers have been killed, so the replaced them with Ant and Dec from that horrible Celebrity torturing show!"

The producer quickly pushed a button and Saphrie dropped into the pit of nameless and untold sufferings. She was last seen running away with John Thorpe to be married.

In the meantime, Adam had reached Ant. I mean Stan. Yaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhh!!!!!!! No!!!!! Not that!!!! ARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHH
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Er, right. Um, I am the new narrator. Sorry about that. Our old narrator experienced technical difficulties.

Anyway, Adam had just reached Stan, when he took out a large bottle of Tabasco sauce and poured it down Stan's trousers. As Stan screamed in pain, running around like a headless chicken (a certain sensitive male area does not like being set on fire), Adam set a large, self-warming frying pan in his path. Stan fell into it, Adam added a few hundred eggs, some peppers, tomatoes, and mushrooms, then walked over to Mr. Hurst and presented him with the delicious Spanish omelette. It was the work of a moment for Hurst to swallow it whole, and, although Stan, sadly, survived, he never did figure out how to climb out of the Netherfield latrine.

"Now, Sarah, see, that is the proper way to end a death match!"

"I shall remember that when I kill you again!"

"Good! Anyway, your turn to attack an announcer!"

Sarah walked towards the quaking Dec, Dan, whoever! Giving him a kind smile, she saw him loosen up and smile back. Using his being off guard to her full advantage, she jumped him and began to string him up. Tossing the rope over one of the rafters, she began to pull with all her might, raising Dan in the air. Securing the rope, she took out her trusty baseball bat and evilly said, "Ladies and Gentleman, step right up! It's piņata time!" She then tossed the bat towards Adam, and told him, "Why don't you take a whack at it my good fellow."

"Now, see, this is a perfect example of what I was talking about. You just gave your opponent in a death match a weapon. This is why you are unsuccessful at writing death matches!" He threw it over to the crowd for them to use. It exploded, leaving a rather stunned and charred looking Sofie behind. "Hmm. Alright, you had some sense. Oh, and I thought Sofie had said she was going to stay well away when I got my revenge. Oh, well, no matter. Shepherds!" With a nod in their direction the various shepherds under his hire got up and began whacking Dan with their crooks. "Now, who are we going to get as our new announcers?"

Thinking for a moment, Sarah quickly said, "Mortie and Colonel Brandon! After all, they are the only ones who aren't really busy at the moment." Running towards the two that she mentioned, she sat them in a catapult and launched them into the announcers box.

Re-entering the ring, she quickly threw all the packages of tortillas to the crowd. As soon as she was about to make her first move, she witnessed a sickening sight...Mortie and Brandon making out in the announcers box!!! Their liplocking could be heard over the intercom and in response, tortillas were thrown towards them with the crowd booing.
Gagging, Sarah turned towards Adam and said, "Those two are sick. Don't know about you, but this needs to end soon!"

"Indeed, it must," stated Adam, pulling out a rusty pitchfork from the place on his person where he had concealed it. "Face my Godly Pitchfork of Tetanus Death!"

"Godly Pitchfork of Tetanus death???"

"Oh, alright, it's just a pitchfork, but it is rusty, so it might give you Tetanus!" he cackled madly. "En guarde!"

And one of the biggest farces ever to grace the Deathmatch stage began, as Adam chased the fleet-footed Sarah with his Godly Pitchfork of Tetanus Death, but as she had a higher speed stat than he, he was unable to catch her. In his frustration, he hurled the pitchfork - but she dodged, and it merely thudded into Lilac.

Sarah turned around to glare at the farmer, and grinned maliciously.

"Er..." stated Adam, tracing a circle in the dust with a wellington, grinning sheepishly, and blushing.

"That's it, farmer-boy! Now I'm going to release my most powerful weapon!" she began to move towards him, slowly chanting
"Chainsaws, axes, brimstone fire
Doom upon you will transpire!
The Evil Lady will 'ere long
Bring with her Collins - In mesh thong!"

Lightning fashed, and stormclouds gathered above - an extremely ominous event in an indoor auditorium. A rain of fish began to fall, the jerking of the still-living fishes' tails slapping the audience in the face. And admidst it all, in a whirlwind of brimstone and fire... appeared Tabbi, the Evil Queen of Hell, Lady of Destruction!

"Oh, Tabbs, um, hi," said the farmer, obviously embarrassed.

"Adam? I didn't expect to see you here...."

"Well, you remember that death match? Well, I sort of...."

"Oh, so you're a bit busy?"

"Well... a little..."

"It's alright, I understand."

"Oh, er, good. See you tonight?

"Yes, of course."

The two gazed shyly at each other for a minute, then Tabbi left much as she came

Sarah stared in utter shock.

"Er, right," said the farmer.

"What was that about?"

"Er, none of yer business, lass! Roight! Let's get to this defeatin' yer! I call on... Trelawny!"

Silence descended over the auditorium. "Who?"

A rather large, uneasy-looking Cornishman came out, his ruddy but friendly face framed by his ginger muttonchops. He wore a burgundy jumper over his large stomach, fawn-coloured breeches, and rather large, clunky boots. Few would have guessed that he was actually extremely rich. "Er, yes?"

"Roight, Trelawny, I was wonderin' if you'd mind just preparing a dinner for Sarah here. Something like that last dinner party will do. Scottish food, you know."

Trelawny pondered for a moment. "Er, Oi suppose so." He wandered off, and returned carrying a haggis, some black pudding, neeps, greens, shortbread, and, in the middle, a dressed sheep's head. With braincakes. "Er, do you want the eyeballs for her to eat?"

"I surrender! I surrender!" cried Sarah.

"Er?" said Trelawny, in confusion.

"Don't worry about it," said the farmer, taking most of the non-sheep's head food for himself. He happened to like Scottish cookery, but with scrapie and BSE, it was probably best not to have the head, even if it was a regency sheep. "It was a bit of a... cookery competition, you might say."

"Oh, er... roight. Um, where should Oi put this?"

"Over there will be fine." Adam smiled, and Trelawny toddled off.

Adam turned to Sarah. "I told you I could..." He paused. "Hey, hold on, what about the announcement of me winning?"

They turned towards the announcer's box, where Morts and Brandon were behaving shockingly. Lady Catherine rose to her feet to comment on it. Adam walked over to Lilac's barely-twitching body and pulled out the pitchfork, threw it at her, and grinned as it thudded into her most satisfactorily. Rev. Collins was in horror, and his loud sobs were heard throughout the theatre, even distracting Morts and Brandon briefly, until Ebony went over to him, and her comforting ways made him forget his first love.

The wedding is Thursday.

However, this still left Morts and Brandon to be dealt with. Adam grinned at Sarah. An unspoken communication possible only to the evil (helped by the fact that they were co-writing the story) and ran out to his tractor. Meanwhile, Sarah went casually over to the two.

"You know, I always preferred Edward Ferrars."

"Edward Ferrars? Have you no taste?" Morts leapt out of the announcer's box to argue with her. Meanwhile, Adam slipped behind Brandon, quickly poured a pot of glue over him, then hurled thousands of cotton balls at him. When Adam had finished, Brandon looked rather like a sheep. He took a deep breath to call for his shepherd's attention - then he saw Krysia. And remembered what she wrote about him in the Incredible Hunk (and he wasn't the title character in it, either). So he quickly did the same to her. THEN he called out for the shepherd's attention. The shepherds saw the two cute.. fluffy sheep... and ran towards them. They fled. Adam grabbed the arms of one of his evil shepherds and handed him a bloodless castrator, saying, "one of them's a ram..."

So Brandon was never heard from again, Morts was not very pleased about the end of her Birthday and stalked off, and Adam won the deathmatch. Only one thing was left to be explained.

"What was that thing you handed the shepherd?" asked Sarah.

"Oh, it was a bloodless castrator," he said, taking one out of his pocket. "It works by crushing the spermatic cords. You see, you just clamp it on above one testicle like this," he said, clamping it onto his corduroy trousers...

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The End