LYRA/LIRA: hello and welcome to our first uber-stupid fanfic!
LYRA: i'm lyra
LIRA: and i'm lira
LYRA/LIRA: and we shall be guiding you through this demented story that came from our deranged minds
LIRA: (whispers) actually, it came from lyra's mind, i just typed it up on the computer
LYRA: should we start the fic now?
LIRA: yes we should! start disembodied disclaimer voice!
Lyra and Lira do not own Eragon. If they did, it be very messed up, depending on who's got the more power over the story
A very happy boy skipped down the street. He was followed by an old guy in a bubble and a rather grumpy boy.
"C'mon Brom, c'mon...um...um...um..." the happy boy called.
"Roran, Eragon" the grumpy boy, now know as Roran, called back.
"Oh, right!" Eragon said happily, yet again, as he returned to his merry skipping.
Brom rolled ahead of the two younger boys. "That's the house" Brom-the-bubble said, pointing to a faded pink house with a giant doile on the roof. Upon further inspection, everything, bushes, trees, small furry animals, had at least one doile on it.
"Neato!" Eragon yelled joyously. He randomly changed into a Little Red Riding Hood costume and continued to joyously skip up to the front door.
"Eragon! Red clashes with pink! Take it off!" Roran yelled.
"Are you gay, um...um...um..." Eragon stammered.
Sighing, Roran started to say, "No Eragon, my name is--"
"My name is not--"
"C'mon Eragon. C'mon Steve" Brom instructed as he rolled up to the front door. He was making nice progress until he hit the steps.
"Need help old man?" Eragon called cheerily.
"Don't call me old man! I am not an old man! How many old men do you know that're as clean as me?" Brom asked.
Eragon, faced with a rhetorical question, or a question for that matter, started to think. At least he tried to think, for a small, fluffy bunny hopped past and Eragon felt the need to chase it like a five-year-old retard.
"Man Steve, your cousin has gone nuts."
"One, Eragon's got the mental level of a retarded five-year-old. Teo, MY NAME'S NOT STEVE!"
Brom proceeded to ignore him and went back to the task of unsticking himself.
Eragon, who was still chasing the bunny, who had a doile on, ran smack into Brom's bubble. It then smashed through the door, bounced around the living room and knocked off a couple of doiles before finally stopping as a small table with fancy china cups and finger foods.
"We're here!" Eragon shouted with a huge smile.
To put it simply, the house's interior looked like the Void of Lost Doiles. Everything was covered in a two-inch-thick layer of doiles. Three old ladies, who had doiles on their heads and shoulders, all went over to the door and practically dragged Eragon in. Roran had the door slammed in his face. Or, at least what was left of the door.
"Brom, it's so nice of you to have finally visit" said Old Lady #1.
"Well, I deemed doiles to be clean enough. Oh, don't worry about Eragon. He's an idiot" Brom said.
"But he's sooooooooo CUTE!" cried Old Lady #2.
"You like him?" Brom asked, genuinely surprised.
All three old ladies nodded. Old Lady #3 had already started putting doiles on Eragon. "Doiles are cool!" cried our ADHA, retarded, little hero.
The old ladies went "Awwww" and started shoving little spongecakes down Eragon's throat, ignoring Roran, who was pounding on the window...which was covered in doiles.
"Do you know that boy?" Old Lady #1 asked.
"Yeah! That's my cousin, Steve!" Eragon said hyperly.
"Well, if he's a family member of Eranon, Steve can come in!" Old Lady #2 insisted.
The splinters of the door opened, allowing Roran to walk in.
"So Steve" Old Lady #3 said.
"Roran" interrupted Roran.
"So Steve" Old Lady #3 continued, ignoring that last statement, "tell us about yourself."
Roran opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the old ladies' need to feed Eragon until he popped. "Do you want some more squirrel cake?" Old Lady #1 asked.
Brom's eyes twitched. "S-Squirrel cake?"
"Yep!" Old Lady #2 said. "Made with 100 percent squirrel meat!"
Now, before you get confused about this next scene, you must know for sure that Brom is a germophobe. Meaning he doesn't like germs if you are as brilliant as Eragon and did not know what that one big word meant.
"GAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" screamed Brom. He bounced around the room, destroying more things and knocking off more doiles while screaming about how squirrel is germy. Eventually he smashed through the wall and bounced back to where he came from. Where that is, I don't know.
"Well, Eragon, we need to go get Brom. So, I'll be taking you from the creepy old ladies now..."
Old Lady #3 wrapped a doile-covered rope around Roran's neck. "We're keeping him!"
"Now, now ladies. Steve is right. We need to get Brom. But do not fear, for I shall return!" Eragon announced as he heroically walked out the door.
"My name is Roran."
"Of course Steve!"
LYRA: Roran has absolutely no significance to thisstory
LIRA: that is why we are killing him off next chapter
RORAN: WHAT? I DONT WANNA DIE!
LIRA: did you hear something Lyra?
RORAN: YES! you heard me saying how i dont wanna die!
LYRA: must've been your imagination
LIRA: yeah...must've (shrugs)
ERAGON: (pokes the air) the air likes to be poked
LYRA/LIRA: okay (sweatdrop) see ya next time!
BROM: leave clean reviews!