ESA Studios (A Cornucopia of Short Works and Whatnots)

Welcome to Extremely Super Awesome Studios!!!

Most (all as of right now) of these are my Creative Writing projects for school. Others are just things I scribbled down and never really developed much beyond that.

And...yeah. I get it. Get on with the stories and stuff. Right. Well, enjoy.

Amid a time of much chaos, strife, and general bad stuff, a war raged due to a result of massive nuclear poisoning: vegetables had come to life and formed an enormous army and forced the world to become vegetarian; the world suffered under this titanic rule; its only hope rested in the hands of a group of ignorant teenagers who, like most teenagers, didn't really care about the world: the Junk Food Alliance, for everyone knew that the one weakness of vegetables, the epitome of health and disgusting taste, was junk food, the very embodiment of fat and great-tasting food.
Beginning a long list of deities comprising the Junk Food Alliance is the leader of the Alliance, Ishi, the Almighty Cookie God who wields Cookies of Mass Annihilation (C.O.M.A's) as his primary weapon; next is Ishi's right-handed man, Rust, the Marshmallow God who uses a variety of marshmallow-themed tactics; followed by his left-handed lady, lei, the Waffle Goddess who prefers to fight using a prosthetic leg; and finally Smiley...Nat Smiley, the Almighty Cookie God's guardian and the Oreo Goddess, a fairly black and white individual.
Comprising the other deities in the alliance are: Tiger, the Ice Cream God, and Aulis, the Pasta God.

Despite initial arguments among the deities as to who should be leader and what to do about the imminent threat of an evil almost as foul as vegetables, homework, the Junk Food Alliance sprang into action against the unfathomable evil of the Veggies.
Evisceration of the Veggies began in Indiana, the cornerstone of the Great Corn Empire, for there is nothing but corn in Indiana. First, the Almighty Cookie God led the Alliance through the dangerous territory of the cornfields, heading straight to the heart of the Great Corn Empire, the Unholy Capital, Monticello.

"Great," Rust spoke, "Cookie God, you've led us to ANOTHER dead end; we've wandering around this place for HOURS!"
"Hey," Ishi retorted, "I am the leader here, and I demand obedience and free food; now, observe, I shall destroy this dead end and we shall continue." Ishi produced an exploding cookie shuriken from thin air with little explanation other than that he's a god. Just as he prepared to blow open the wall, however, a regiment of Great Corn Soldiers flipped off the roofs surrounding the Alliance and screamed the words, "Halt; you shall go no further, Junk Food scum!"
"Killer kittens and moldy muffins, Batman!"
"Let's just talk this out," Aulis requested, but was answered with the unsheathing of corn-stalk staffs by the Corn Soldiers.
"Methinks we should just kill them; all in favor?"
No response save for the drawing of the Alliance members' own weapons, beginning a long, drawn out battle that due to the laws of censorship, is not allowed to be described in this story, so suffice to say that it looked really, REALLY cool; the Junk Food Alliance members probably get laid A LOT! (even though they're teenagers...)

Only the Junk Food Alliance remained standing after the skirmish; the vicious vegetables had exploded due to massive coatings of sugar, courtesy of the Alliance members, who were brushing themselves off nonchalantly.
"Pfft, not at all a challenge; let us continue into this wretched hive of evil and bad stuff," Ishi beckoned his teammates to follow him into the hole in the dead end that had been made at some point during the fight. Quietly, the Junk Food Alliance approached a massive tower shaped like a matured corn stalk with a single, giant cob of corn sticking out form the top, making the entire tower look hilariously phallic.
"Realistically speaking..." Tiger spoke, biting back laughter as he created a rugged and jagged set of stairs made out of rocky road ice cream to the top of the tower, "I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a corn stalk, but...it really looks like a testament to male dominance in vegetable society...wait...do vegetables have genders?"
"Such thoughts are unbecoming of the people who are supposed to be the world's saviors," came the taunting voice of the commander of the Great Corn Empire, Cornelius of Cape Cob; his massive cornstalk body stood out as much as his tower, at least four times the size of a normal corn soldier.
"The reign of terror you have imposed on the people of the world desiring sugary, fat-inducing food ends here," Ishi declared calmly as the Junk Food Alliance leaped into action to take down the tyrant of evil; Ishi bombarded Cornelius with C.O.M.A's while Rust and Aulis held the monster in place with a combination of sticky marshmallow good and stringy pasta; Lei's prosthetic leg shone brightly in the moonlit night as it smashed again and again into the vile dictator's groin while Tiger blinded the monster by blasting him in the eyes with ice cream, and Nat aided the Cookie God's efforts with blurring strikes of inside-out oreo projectiles, but Cornelius would not fall.
"Under-developed, your techniques are," the Corn Emperor taunted as he began his own offensive; breaking Lei's prosthetic leg, and hailing Rust, Tiger, and Aulis with corn kernel bullets; Ishi grimaced...the situation looked bleak...nothing was working...but then he saw it; the Corn titan's fatal flaw; he smirked and nodded to Nat.

"Very well...Cornelius of Cape Cob..." Ishi searched for words for the reporter as throngs of people gathered around the triumphant Junk Food Alliance in celebration of their new-found freedom, "was vicious and brutal, but he had one fatal flaw, which proved to be the key to our victory over him, bringing me to your question as to how exactly we toppled the tyrant. Well..." Ishi smirked and gave a wink to the women eying him in the crowds, "I saw my advantage and I took it: that's what heroes do!"

"Xeric atmospheres are tremendously useful in vanquishing veggies," Tiger told the crowd in an attempt to educate the masses in what to do should the veggies return and attempt another take-over; a week had passed in massive celebration and partying in light of the Junk Food Alliance's accomplishments, and the group of teenagers were going to their next mission.
"Yes, yes," Lei assured a small child, "the leg is fake, so don't worry about breaking it; just go up to that mean boy and hit him just like I showed you."
"Zero vegetable zone!" Rust declared and then the Junk Food Alliance left the corn-free empire to pursue their next objective: Carrots in California, for the battle against the evil vegetables had only just begun.

"Oh mah gawd!" I complained, crossing my legs and hopping lightly on my feet. The line at the theatric cinema was ridiculously long and, as usual, in my rush to be on time for once, I had deigned to not use the bathroom. Two hours ago, I had felt a tiny, insignificant tingly jingle that said to me, "Hey Lisa? This is your bladder and I'm calling to let you know that the floodgates are starting to fill up. You'd best empty soon." And now? A stabbing dagger of fire in the general area of urine emission! I know, it sounds like a personal problem when I say it like that and you know what? Using the bathroom is serious business, and I don't particularly care what you think!
I danced on the balls of my feet, trying to see salvation amid the heads of the people in front of me. The bathroom was still a painfully lengthy journey away. I tried once again to focus on something other than my own personal impending flood of forty-nine days and nights. My friends were gossiping around me as usual and I thought I may as well focus on the juicy meat that was the life of young women such as myself. I wondered who we were viciously tearing apart today.
"Oh yah, I was talking to Kim and SHE told me that James and Meg were going out and I was like noooooooowaaaaaay!"

Pain stabbed at my heart and pulsed in rhythm with the pain of my bladder. I had hearted James forever and had sent him many pink-sheeted letters dotted with little red hearts and overwhelmed with the sweet and pungent fragrance of my perfume sprayed in hazardous amounts over the paper. Why would James date that slut cake with whore sprinkles on top?

I cringed as my bladder became impatient with me, as if to say, "Lisa, darling, if you don't unload the dump truck now, it's gonna overflow and you're not gonna like that." I crossed my legs even tighter at the thought of such unimaginable horror. "If I pee myself here," I thought to myself, "I just might die of shame. And worse! I would never get a hot date for prom if I survived the shame. I would have to settle for...it."
It, as is common knowledge in my community, is the one boy in my school that is the mockery of the school: the nerd of all nerds - the pimple-pocked, buck-toothed, gangling youth who is so pathetic that it has been a well-known tradition of my town to steal his lunch money every day of the week since I was only seven years old. Even the other nerds steal his lunch money (they, of course, get it stolen by men with limbs bigger than most nerds' bodies.)
Back to the gossip. My friends were now chatting animatedly about the forecast of rain for later tonight.

"Oh, I love the rain!" Jessica was saying, "The drip-drop drip-drop fascinates me. It's like...hypnotic, ya know?"
"Jess, the only time rain drips in that agonizingly slow manor is when the dew is falling off the trees, not during a rain storm." another of my friends retorted irritably.
The line moved suddenly and I was able to ignore my friends' talk of water. But I was not able to ignore the sound of the rushing fountain located in the center of the cinema. It awoke a new ferocity and undying urge in my bladder that roared and demanded to be appeased.
"Deserts!" I thought frantically, "Dry, arid deserts!" Who puts a fountain in a theater anyway!? My head whipped in every direction, seeking escape from the taunting froth and bubbling of the fountain. And then I saw him coming toward me: James. Like the god of testosterone that he is, he glided toward me, smile caressing his face and perfect green eyes pouring into mine.
"Hi, Lisa," his voice was like Adonis': the very definition of Heaven. No. James redefined Heaven.
"H-h-h" I couldn't make any coherent sound, but eventually managed to force a, "Hi."

"So uh, what movie are you going to see?" he asked. Asked! As though he were genuinely interested in me! Maybe it was the perfume, I thought to myself, hoarding that bit of information away for future use.
"Uhm...heh..." Gibberish escaped me, which I consider a personal achievement given how gorgeous James is.
"Haven't decided yet? Good." He looked relieved! "So, I'm thinking of seeing a comedy myself. Want to see it with me?"
"Uhmvsbathauhm," I mentally shook myself, "Yeah." I breathed. He looked delighted. DELIGHTED! I didn't care that he was supposedly dating Meg. When a man looks at you like James was looking at me, there are no questions asked. Ever.

My girls shot me a look. I shrugged and mouthed a quick "sorry" when James wasn't looking. They'd get over it. There were only two types of girls in the world. The first type placed BFFs (Bacon, Fries, and Frosties from Wendys) over guys and the second placed the man or girl of her dreams over her friends. I am a very proud member of the latter type.
I had been too busy basking in the glory and radiance of James' presence to notice that my bladder was no longer demanding appeasement. And then my mind caught up with the warmth I felt and I knew it had nothing to do with being arm-in-arm with the man I had dreamt about. I swallowed and took a deep breath, calming myself. And then I did what every girl does in this situation: I panicked, screamed, and then ran. I ran as fast and hard as I could, paying no heed to James' shouts behind me. I couldn't bear to face him, soiled as I was.
Tears streaked down my face, but I couldn't be bothered with wiping them. I ran into my house and secluded myself in my room and collapsed on the bed, crying when my bladder bothered me again.

"Lisa, dear, I know you've just had a terrible experience. I warned you, though didn't I!? Who was right!? Oh yeah that's right, it was your bladder! Anyway, you may want to go into the bathroom and change clothes now. Don't make me finish what I started, lass! I only took care of the liquid infestation! You're still lugging around a couple of solid boulders too!"
I got the distinct feeling that my bladder, at least, had not inherited my female genes and was in fact a male bladder, but I heeded it nonetheless.

After relieving myself, I sat at my computer, reliving the horror of my day.
"I know!" I told myself, "I'll complain about my day on my Myspazz blog!"
After an hour of writing the essential details and another hour of making things up so that my wet problem somehow became Meg's fault, I was satisfied with my blog and posted it.
I sighed and leaned back, still not believing that I'd had one chance with James and had blown it. Would I ever get another chance?
As I turned out the light to try sleeping, my last thought was the hope that nobody in the Creative Writing class at my school would use the blog as a story for their gender-switch assignment.


Moral of the story: Never put anything you don't want read on the internet because people will find it and they WILL laugh about it and spread it around.

Into the bright, shining world he was thrust, crisp and clean. Immediately, he was packaged alongside his brothers and sisters. His name was Bill. Dollar Bill. Bill's journey in the dark, cavernous truck lasted only a moment. There was a loud bang and hissing. Bill was alarmed. He could feel heat. Powerful heat. A fire was creeping toward him and his siblings. As the blaze threatened to engulf him, Bill's hero arrived. A masked vigilante dressed in black who nodded to his side-kick, also dressed in black and wearing a mask.
"Make sure you get it all." How delightful! They were going to save not only him, but all of his siblings!

Bill's elation lasted only a moment before he noticed where the hand that was groping him was headed: a sack.
Bill hated sacks. Especially burlap sacks, which is what his destination appeared to be. Back in the darkness. Bill would have sighed, but in his misery, he couldn't even manage that.
Bill's brothers and sisters were smashed haphazardly into the sack alongside him. He protested the unnatural weight and the way he was being contorted, but the super hero payed him no mind. Bill supposed that given the situation, his unknown hero might be a little rushed to save everyone. It was okay. His deplorable situation wasn't so bad compared to being burnt to a crisp. This way, he could fulfill his destiny. He knew what he was put on this world to do. Bill was a tool...that came out wrong. He was meant to be used and he felt used already. His once crisp edges were now furled and bent. He was only a few hours old, but at this rate, he'd look old and wrinkled with age in no time. As Bill contemplated whether he'd be able to pick up any chicks in his disheveled state, there was a loud ripping in the sack. Bill could no longer see his saviors, but he could hear them talking.
"Don't worry about the rip. The cops'll be here soon. Just throw it in with the rest!"
Bill felt the bag hoisted into the air and...he fell out. He had been one of the first in the bag, and nearest to the rip. He and a few of his cousins were caught by the wind. The men in black snatched a few of Bill's family members from the unruly wind, but he was left to travel the winds. Lonely and abandoned, Bill rode the wind where ever it took him. He saw new sights: new cars, new people, new smelly grates in the most disgusting streets in his giant world of New York City.

It had been about a month now from then. Bill was old. He could feel it in his edges. He was worn with age, wrinkled everywhere. He was now a yoga master and could fold himself into any position, but with that ability had come many tiny tears to his edges. He had lost track of the heroes who had come to save him in his moments of despair, only to find himself mistreated and sometimes violated. There had been kind owners who had tried to repair him and keep him in a decent condition, but every time Bill began to feel a bond with his owner, they would trade him away to someone else. Bill was tired. His would-be heroes were no heroes at all. Bill knew now that there were no heroes for the dollar family: only greedy humans who saw Bill as nothing more than a means to an end. He was a tool and he no longer cared whether that came out wrong or not. Bill had been left bitter after seeing the butt of society, and who can blame him? When you travel around in the holey back pocket of a gangster who wears his pants so low that he doesn't even actually wear pants, you see the butt of society a lot. And it never looked any better whenever Bill saw it. It was always crappy.
Now Bill was traveling in the hands of an eight-year-old child. He shuddered. He'd been with children. He hated them, as all bitter senior citizens do. He'd give the child a paper cut if he could, seeing as he couldn't throw rocks from a rocking chair, but with his pathetic edges, Bill doubted he could manage even that. With the depressing aspect of an uncertain and dismal future ahead of him, Bill wished he'd been burned in that fire a month back.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Junk Food Alliance story is <3333