Is it possible to say the same thing two different ways?
V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet
Well, it was a cold start to the waking up, I mean.
See, someone–a very mean someone, too–splashed cold water on me.
It was mean. It was vile. It was…probably what I might have done. Maybe.
“Well, well, well,” a voice rang out.
It was a shrill voice. A sharp voice one, too.
I looked about wildly; didn’t do much good. My eyes were still a bit blurry; very frustrating. The professor gave up; I was vexed.
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”
Then things came into focus.
The professor was in King Arthur’s castle, having speaks with Arthur himself. I know that sounds impressive, but I didn’t mean it that way. Nothing about the whole thingy was impressive or neatio.
I was sorta kneeling on the ground, before Arthur’s throne, between the two mean guards who had chased me. Standing off to the right of the throne was the lady I’d sorta banged into while I was playing Dodge.
She was an interesting looking beast. Her hair was pulled back by a scarf, and she was wearing wooden shoes. There was also a big–and I mean huge–black, blue, purple, black, and blue mark on her cheek.
That must’ve hurt.
The castle was damp and cool inside. And the stones seemed dirty.
Yes, definitely not impressive.
“So, hey,” this professor said, finally breaking the silence. “I will say something just because you asked.”
“Things are not going your way, my esoteric man,” Arthur said, quite pleased with himself.
I changed things a second later.
“That doesn’t make much sense, you know. I think you may have the wrong word there.”
The professor was trying to be nice.
“Shut-up!” the king yelled, jumping up on his throne.
See, Arthur is a little fellow. Probably littler than you’re thinking possible at the minute. In truth, this is true: If it wasn’t for his short golden beard and long golden hair (I still say it’s a wig), King Arthur might indeed look like a child, see.
But he’s said to be strong.
“Now look here!” Arthur warned, rage contorting his face. “You ran from my guards, that’s a penalty; you assaulted this woman”–he pointed at the woman, who I realized was glaring at me maliciously–“that’s a penalty; and you’ve broken this!”
And with that, he pointed towards my backpack–I hadn’t noticed it missing–which was laying on a yonder table. Also on the table, in its two-piece glory, was the katana.
“You stole the Jeweled Katana,” he said, “and destroyed it beyond recognition.”
Arthur sat back on his throne with a thud.
Thud. (That’s what it sounded like.)
“Not at all,” this professor answered. “I still recognize it, I’m proud to announce.”
One of the guards sorta hit me there.
“Be nice to the king, man!”
“Listen, PVJ,” Arthur said. “We have rules in this kingdom and you’ve broke a lot of them. Give me the Jeweled Katana”—