Historical Fiction

Author's Note: Horrible Rhino Story is a penname for two extremely bored teenagers, ages 16 and 14, who decided to write the worst story ever on a thirteen-hour car trip. This isn't it—this is the second runner up. The worst story ever is entitled "The Epic Adventure of Colonel Rhinoceros Brandon" and can be found on our profile. This one is pretty darn bad, though.

To read this story, you must know that Charlotte Corday was a female revolutionary who stabbed Jean-Paul Marat in his bathtub (and definitely wasn't on Robespierre's side). Also, Terrence Mann played Chauvelin in "The Scarlet Pimpernel" and Javert in "Les Miserables" on Broadway. And Norm Lewis, who is currently playing "King Triton" in "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway also played Javert. Plus, Drew Sarich played Quasimodo in a German production of "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." That said, enjoy the insanity!

"Citizen Chauvelin, what happened to your lip?" gasped Robespierre as the little revolutionary staggered into his office, bleeding profusely from the mouth.

"That Charlotte girl keeps beating up all of us revolutionaries!" Chauvelin whined.

"Well, you're a man, defend yourself!" Robespierre laughed.

"You weren't so confident during the infamous mermaid attack of 1792," pointed out Chauvelin, picking his teeth with choice selections of the skeleton of Colonel Christopher Brandon.

"You know my phobia of mermaids! Ever since I got my picture taken at Disney World with Ariel and she pinched my bum!"

"I pinch your bum all the time, but no one's ever complained about that!" said Chauvelin, his eyes sparkling dangerously.

Suddenly, a sinister figure dropped from the sky, wielding a scimitar and clad in a black leather ninja suit. "CHARLOTTE CORDAY!" screamed the revolutionaries. Robespierre jumped into Chau-Chau's arms.

"So much for defending yourself and being a man," Chauvelin muttered.

"YOU!" howled Charlotte. "It is time for revenge! You must pay your debt in BLOOOOD!"

"Me?" asked a random lady cowering in the bathroom.

"No, you fool, Robespierre! He owes me millions in poker debt!" She turned to Chauvelin. "And you! You took me on THE worst date I've ever been on!"

Chauvelin's jaw dropped. "You wrecked the date, Charlotte. You're the one who bit my lip open when you tried to make out with me!"

"You're the one who forgot to make reservations at Hao-Yi Heuron. We ended up going to Chuck E. Cheese."

"Well, you're the one who drove the carriage so fast that the horse spontaneously combusted and I had to get out and push!"

"CHILDREN. PLEASE!" shouted Robespierre, clapping his hands together. "We don't have time for this hormonal mumbo-jumbo. We have a very strict schedule to stick to at the guillotine. We have to execute all kinds of Disney characters before sundown for crimes against the Republic!"

Chauvelin blinked. "What crimes?" he asked, nervously clutching his Disney princess backpack. "Haven't you noticed? Robespierre chortled, roasting a Prince Edward figurine in the fireplace. "They're SO silly! They sing and talk to furry little woodland creatures. IT'S NOT RIGHT!"

"You're just jealous because Disney princes are all tall, aren't you?" sighed Charlotte.

Robespierre gave her an impassive stare. "Why, yes," he said at last. "Yes, I am."

He pulled the now-headless Edward doll out of the fireplace, noting the height difference, then giggled. "Decapitation lessens most people's height by at least a good half foot," he noted innocently.

"Yes, well, that's all very well, but what's that?" asked Chauvelin, pointing at the vast clouds of smoke billowing outside by the window.

"Oh, that," he said casually, tossing the doll out the window. "I had to burn a few million citizens at the state for crimes against the Republic. It's nothing, really. They were all just a little bit too tan."

"Now they're definitely tan," Charlotte replied uneasily. "You might even say 'burnt.' Why are you so insecure about your height and complexion, anyway? And don't you dare blame it on mermaids this time."

"Well… erm… you see… the magic mirror at Disney World said I was ugly and short and that I would never be successful. Then this mermaid showed up, and …" Robespierre was cut off by Charlotte pushing him into a bathtub and pulling out a knife threateningly.

"Why does this situation seem so familiar?" he muttered.

"I thought I told you not to blame it on the mermaids!" shouted Charlotte. "Mermaids are dedicated, hardworking citizens who—"

"Were."

"Excuse me?"

"WERE dedicated, hardworking citizens. I've had them all executed!"

Charlotte slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Robespierre, you can't just go around executing everyone who's prettier than you. If you did, the only people left in the world would be Chau-Chau and that boy up in the bell tower."

"WHAT?!" cried Chauvelin and Robespierre.

"Are you calling me ugly?" yelled Chauvelin.

"Are you saying there's a boy in the bell tower?" yelled Robespierre. "We'll have to call the executioner immediately. I hired a singing clown, not an ugly boy!"

"The clown scared Chauvelin," Charlotte snorted. "So I hired this simpleton. He works for popsicle sticks."

"LOOK, I MADE A PONY!" shouted a Drew Sarich-y voice from far above in the bell tower.

Robespierre groaned. "Well, I guess that's okay, then. What did you do with the clown?"

Suddenly, the door burst open. "Look!" a morbid-looking clown cried. "I can make balloon animals!" After many irritating squeaks, the masterpiece was done.

"A decapitated puppy dripping blood? How original! I LOVE IT!" squealed Robespierre, hugging the clown. "This is wonderful! I suddenly feel inspired to do good! I am at peace with myself. Never again will I kill or—"

"BLAMM."

"Oops," said Chauvelin, quickly handing the gun to Charlotte as Robespierre's body sprawled face-down in a pool of his own blood. "I guess my little finger slipped."

"Ehh, who cares. Who would want a lame-o who only does good? Besides, he's a revolutionary. Ew."

Chauvelin stared at Charlotte in amazement. "Charlotte. I'm a revolutionary. Dude, YOU'RE a revolutionary, for crying out loud!"

"I guess it's time for me to confess my secret identity!" shouted Charlotte. "The real Charlotte Corday is long-dead, executed by Citizen Robespierre himself! My true identity is…" She ripped off the riding cloak and dress that she was wearing to reveal a tail and shell bra. "I had to go undercover so Robespierre wouldn't execute me. I started up a secret, Scarlet Pimpernel style organization to smuggle merpeople out of France and into New York City, where they get jobs working in a Broadway show."

Chauvelin almost fainted. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"Because, Chau-Chau. You talk in your sleep, and since you and Robespierre share a bedroom, it would have given everything away."

"No way… what kinds of things do I talk about?" Chauvelin demanded, eyes flashing with paranoia and his lip twitching.

"Well, you told me your vault password, the location of Robespierre's secret hit list, your social security number, the sordid details of your scandalous love affair with Marguerite St. Just, your mother's secret recipe for cheese blintzes, and you proposed to me."

Chauvelin's brow furrowed. "Did we get married?" he asked hopefully.

"No, I have a mer-boyfriend," said Charlotte, making her way out the door. Then, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. "And he was a WAY better Javert than you."

THE END