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Adept Writer
Join Date: Jan 2005
Location: Canada
Gender: Female
Posts: 771
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Rusty, Worn-Out, Two-Sizes-too-Big, Worthless Bucket
This is just a light-hearted little story that I wrote on the spot. I'm a little concerned about the ending though. I want it to have that right-back-to-the-beginning effect, but it seems like it's a bit anti-climactic... What do you think about it?
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Sebastian Cobalt was unlike the other cadets at the knights’ academy. While the other students all wore brand new, shiny armor, Sebastian was stuck wearing his father’s old and rusty hand-me-downs. “But you don’t need brand new armor,” his father would say. “My old armor fits you perfectly!”
Sebastian was able to cope with the breastplate and shin-guards. With a bit of grease-polish, they didn’t look too bad. From ten feet away, they probably looked the same as the brand new kind. His real problem was with his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet.
The other cadets all had magnificent helmets, custom-made to fit their face. Sebastian’s helmet was two sizes too big, and he had to keep tipping it up in order to see out of it. At target practice, he was a joke. It was mandatory that all cadets wore their helmets, and no matter how much Sebastian pleaded with the instructor, the rules would not be bent.
Every day, when target practice began, each student would swiftly chop their training-logs in half. Their swords would split the wood straight down the middle. This however, was not the case for Sebastian. Even if he tipped his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet up first, as soon as he lifted his sword to swing, it would fall down in front of his face, and he’d miss the log completely.
The other students eventually learned that standing next to Sebastian during target practice was a bad idea. The unlucky cadet who arrived last, and would have to stand next to Sebastian, would have a nearly certain chance of being struck down by a blind and clumsy swing. Sebastian Cobalt hated his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet.
It was one evening, when Sebastian was walking home after target-practice, that he got a magnificent idea. He would get rid of his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet once and for all. If he didn’t have a helmet, nobody could force him to wear it. His father would have to buy him a new one, and he’d finally be able to split that training-log right down the middle like all the other cadets did.
Sebastian ran to a nearby lake, and stood in the tall blades of grass. The sunset reflected off the tips of the waves, and the sky was a brilliant swirl of pinks and oranges. It would be the perfect evening for Sebastian’s drastic deed.
He pulled the rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet off his face, and extended his arms, holding it out in front of him. “I’m not going to tolerate you anymore,” he stated. And with that, he tossed the helmet out to sea. Brushing off his hands, he smiled and marveled at his work.
Within five seconds, his grin faded into a frown, and within ten, it became a look of complete and utter discontent. His rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet wasn’t cooperating with his dastardly scheme. It jumped up and flew right out of the water, landing at Sebastian’s feet with a brief clunk.
Sebastian sulked and picked up the now sopping-wet, rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet. It wasn’t supposed to come back. It was supposed to sink to the bottom of the lake, never to be seen again. He examined it closely, looking for some clue that might explain its strange behavior.
Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he decided that maybe it had bounced off a rock. Aiming at a sandy spot this time, Sebastian plunged the rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet into the water. But, just as before, the helmet popped out of the water and sailed all the way back to Sebastian’s feet.
By now, Sebastian was certain that something was peculiar about this rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet. Helmets didn’t just jump like that unless they had a good reason to. He lifted it out of the tall grass and, now becoming rather frustrated, hurled it into the lake. It made a big splash and then a watery, “Ouch!”
“Humph,” said Sebastian, “that’ll teach you to play jumping games with me.” Wait a second—Jumping was one thing, but helmets most certainly didn’t say, “Ouch!” unless thoroughly provoked.
“Would you watch it? What gives you the right to throw your junk into my lake?” said a bubbled voice. It was then that Sebastian realized that it wasn’t his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet that said, “Ouch!” but a giant red sea-monster with twelve long slimy tentacles who was now emerging from the water. On top of his head was a large, swelling lump. In his fourth-tentacle-to-the-left, he held the rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet. “Don’t you have any consideration?”
“I’m so sorry sir!” exclaimed Sebastian, shocked at own carelessness. “I didn’t realize you were in there, mister sea-creature, sir!” Sebastian lowered his head in apology.
The sea-creature tossed the bucket back to Sebastian’s feet. “My name most certainly isn’t ‘mister-sea-creature-sir’,” he said. “That would be an awfully strange name, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose it would be,” replied Sebastian.
“My name is Kraken,” he said. “Now, why did you throw your garbage into my lake,” he paused, searching for a name.
“Sebastian.” Sebastian finished. “Sebastian Cobalt. I wanted to get rid of my rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet, mister-Kraken-sir. I didn’t mean to hit you with it.”
“So that’s what it is! A helmet!” the Kraken exclaimed. “I had been wondering. I get hit with so many pieces of junk these days that I can’t distinguish one from another. My head is awfully sore.”
“Well, mister-Kraken-sir, a helmet could protect your head,” Sebastian suggested, hoping to finally get rid of his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet.
“Toss it over and we’ll see,” said the Kraken.
Sebastian lobbed the helmet over to the Kraken, who caught it with his ninth-tentacle-to-the-right.
The Kraken struggled to squeeze the rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet onto his head, but when he finally managed to get it in place, so much pressure had built up that it popped off and soared through the air, landing for the fourth time at Sebastian’s feet. “I’m afraid it won’t fit,” the Kraken said. “It’s two sizes too small.”
Sebastian frowned. The sun had almost set, and he would be late for supper if he didn’t head home. He’d have to get rid of his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet some other day. “I suppose I’ll see you another time then, mister Kraken. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight Sebastian, and try not to throw your garbage at me anymore.” The Kraken descended back into the lake.
Sebastian picked his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet up off the ground, and pulled it over his head, regardless of the fact that it was dripping with water. With a slouch in his back he made his way back home, occasionally tipping his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet up so that he could see.
Sebastian Cobalt hated his rusty, worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, worthless bucket of a helmet.
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The bubble is round.
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