PDA

View Full Version : Fittle McGovern ~Isaiah Lake



Isaiah Lake
November 23rd, 2010, 07:09 PM
Fittle McGovern


~Isaiah Lake



In the year 1814, there was a man known by the name Fittle McGovern. He was a tall, lanky man, about the width of a small child, and he was (at a rough estimate) approximately six feet, eight inches, six centimeters, four millimeters, and five sixteenths of a millimeter tall. His face was paler than talcum, and he had obtained a pile of what seemed to be segments of blond thread, which appeared to be glued onto his scalp with a sort of tree sap.
Mr. McGovern was on his way to a piano recital for his show the following night, when suddenly, he was slapped in the face with a frog. It was no ordinary frog either. It was green, of course, just like any other frog. The interesting thing was its head. As any person of common knowledge knows, a frog’s head has a ratio of the width being four fifths the size of the length from spot to nose and the height of the head being three fifths the size of the length. But this frog had an incredulous height to length ratio for its head of five sixths!
Fittle was so astounded that he turned around, immediately upon his discovery, and he went home to put the frog in a glass bowl for further observation. His fascination enticed him so much that he remained home for the rest of the evening to meticulously study his frog. If Fittle had been a single man, this would have aroused no problem, but after the recital was to be over, there were arrangements for him to see his lovely fiancée, Abigail.
The very next day, Abigail was so disappointed that Fittle had missed their date that she decided to end their relationship. Fittle became very depressed, and he spent many days without leaving his house. He even came to the point where he was ready to kill himself.
So after several days of weeping, Mr. McGovern tied a rope to one of the rafters in his house and wrote a suicide letter. The letter read as follows:
Today I will kill myself. I can no longer go on without my dear Abigail. I would like to donate my hair and this lovely new frog that I have discovered to science. By the way, his head is freakishly abnormal, the height being five sixths the size of the length (spot to nose.)Good bye and fair well.
~Fittle McGovern
Fittle then climbed the ladder to the hanging noose, and as he reached for the rope, a thundering voice came forth from the dining room table, knocking him off the ladder and causing him to hit his head on the floor. He immediately became unconscious.
Chilling water in the quantity of approximately two and a half gallons crashed into Fittle’s face, and he jumped up off the floor in a rather spasmodic display. Instantly he received a slap in the face. As he opened his eyes, Fittle discovered his ex-fiancée there kissing him on the cheeks with a shower of saliva spewing from her mouth.
It turns out that Abigail had found him lying unconscious after two weeks when nobody heard from him. She read the suicide note and realized that Fittle really did love her after all, so she changed her mind and decided to go through with the marriage.
After she left Fittle’s house that day, he began to wonder why he was knocked off the ladder before hanging himself, and upon talking to his frog, he understood.
“So you can talk!”
“Absolutely! Why wouldn’t I be able to talk? Do you think that humans are the only ones privileged with the gift of speech?” the angry frog replied.
“Well… I had thought so. That is, before I met you.”
“You sicken me.”
“I’m sorry… I really had no idea. Anyways… did you happen to see that whole little episode?”
“Do you mean the gag fest or the part where you tried to kill yourself?”
“Um… the part where I tried to kill myself.”
“By the way, that was quite a disturbing sight, watching that woman kiss you a thousand times… You know, spit flew everywhere. It was disgusting.”
“I am very sorry, but about that um… other part…”
“Well you tried to hang yourself, but I shouted at you and made you fall off your ladder. Quite a nasty fall…”
“Well um… I never fathomed that I would say this to a frog, but um... Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me you idiot. I just need someone to let me out of this bowl, which you had no right to place me in, in the first place.”
“Well you deserved to be put in a bowl! You hit me in the face, while I was minding my own business, going to my piano recital.”
“Quite the contrary my good fellow! You are the one who hit me with your face while I was minding my own business, heading back to my pond!”
“Well… You have a weird head!”
“Don’t you dare bring up my head! It is a very sensitive matter.”
“Oh… Sorry.”
“Could you please just take me back to my pond?”
“Okay.”
So Mr. Fittle McGovern married his fiancée, and actually became good friends with the frog, who turns out to have been a female.
~The End

Isaiah Lake
November 23rd, 2010, 07:31 PM
My literature teacher wanted her students to write a romantic short story. This is mine...

Razzazzika
November 23rd, 2010, 09:39 PM
Humorous, in an odd sort of way... I thought the description of his.... hair? was a bit too off even for your odd writing style, you might want to rethink it, but otherwise, I liked it.

As for... romantic short story? your teacher would probably fail you for overlooking the romance part haha(there really isn't enough of a romance backing it up I think). But it was good, don't get me wrong.

yarn
November 24th, 2010, 09:39 AM
Hey! My surname is McGovern!

Olly Buckle
November 24th, 2010, 10:30 AM
If he was engaged he was single, sudden tense change at the end "turned out". I could picture his hair perfectly. A pleasant, everyday, story of frogs and men.

Isaiah Lake
November 24th, 2010, 05:24 PM
Romanticism as in the style of writing which deals with a sort of mystic/social atmosphere.

Isaiah Lake
November 24th, 2010, 05:27 PM
Thanks for pointing that out.

Olly Buckle
November 24th, 2010, 11:47 PM
This may be a poetic defenition but Romantic to me means taking a fresh view of something mundane, such as Wordsworth viewing the city, probably the largest artificial object that had ever existed in his day, as a living thing. There often is a sort of mystic/social atmosphere to such writing but I think of it as a product of the writing rather than a precondition.

Isaiah Lake
November 26th, 2010, 12:23 AM
Thanks Olly. Your critiques are always helpful.