Behold! A Spoof from the Castaways of the Flying Dutchman! I wrote this chapter a long time ago so sorry if you don't like it. Also, you can read along with the real book. This is a paragraph by paragraph spoof.
FYI: The Narrator and Author are real people in this spoof. They live in an invisible studio box in the sky. (Paid for by the Redwall company.)
Disclaimer I have great respect for this series. All characters are parodies of themselves. This is a joke! Don't like, don't flame!
Warning: Crude language.
Another Warning: This story will be updated infrequently.
Narrator: Two men sat facing each other in a comfortable room called a drinking den. (Which is just a fancy name for a place where people get drunk on business) Now one of these men is a Dutchman and if we use…(Narrator makes quotation marks with his fingers.) Context clues, we can assume this person is the Captain of the Flying Dutchman because he's a Dutchy and I just profile people that way. (Narrator takes a deep breath.)
Author: (Shakes head in back round.)
Narrator: Oh, and the other guy is some insignificant Chinese bloke taking a vacation in Scandinavia. Neither of them touched the gin on the table. ('Cause you know, probation.) Because TV's and football hadn't been invented yet, they both watched a small blue velvet packet.
Vanderdecken: Yarr, silk is up thirty-two points.
Gem dealer: What?
Vanderdecken: Yarr, never mind.
Gem dealer: Anyways…
Narrator: Gem dealer unravels the cloth. Behold, a large emerald that's for some reason called a dragon's eye, even though we haven't seen a dragon. Yet.
Gem dealer: I have an agent in Chile who has a package of priceless stones for me. I want you to go and get if for me. Can you do it?
Vanderdecken: Mmmmmmmm. Chile.
Gem dealer: Can you do it?
Vanderdecken: Gyarr. Of course I can. And I diffidently won't steal them while I'm at it.
Gem dealer: Good. Now as payment I'll just give you three gems instead of the whole package.
Gem dealer: Four.
Vanderdecken: Three take it or leave it.
Narrator: The boy ran. Now perhaps he was running track. Or maybe he wanted to get in line for the eighth Harry Potter book. Or maybe… (Boy cuts him off.)
Boy: I'm being chased damn it! I lead an abusive life, I live in the cellar, and my three hulking stepbrothers who, by the way, haven't even let me read Sorcery's stone are chasing me.
Narrator: Quite! Your suppose to be a mute!
Boy: But I'm the main character! I have to be able to talk! I tell you I'm… (Narrator slaps a role of duct tape on his mouth.) Mpppphhhhh.
Narrator: Ahhhh, silence is golden.
Author: But duct tape is silver.
Narrator: The next say, five paragraphs of the book are skipped.
Scar faced Burmese: Why?
Narrator and Author: Because you're unimportant!
SfB: But plot to murder the Captain!
Author: Yes, but our boss says to skip this part.
Me: Yea, it is impossible to make you funny.
SfB: Yea, well, your joke suck.
Me: Mr. SfB, I pay the Author (me), he writes the story, as in, your character and what happens to him. I suggest you shut up now.
Narrator: Let's check on the Boy now. Oh, looks like he stuck on a wharf. (Turns to Author.) What's a wharf?
Author: (Rolls eyes.) Isn't there anything we can do for him?
Narrator: You're the writer, write something!
Author: Oh yea.
Narrator: Too late. He got pushed off the edge.
Author: But he was supposed to bite them first. Why didn't he bite him?
Narrator: Because I put duct tape around his mouth. Remember?
Author: Sucks to be him.
Vanderdecken: Jah, set sail for horribledeathtrapcertaintodieevilplace!
Crew: Does its job.
Ship: Sails away.
Author: I feel like I've forgotten something.
Narrator: Um, the Boy?
Author: Damn it!
Narrator: Never mind, I'll get it. (Narrator opens the door and steps out of the invisible studio box in the sky and flicks a rope over the side.) There, problem solved.
Narrator: Well, by now the Boy is half unconscious, half drowned, and numbed to the bone; so of course he finds the strength to climb the rope, find a ledge, and stay on it.
Boy: (Rips off duct tape) God that hurt! Well, since I can't read, I don't know that this ship is screwed.
Author: But the ship isn't cursed yet.
Narrator: I'll handle this. (Pulls out more duct tape)
Boy: No, I'll be quiet!
Narrator: (Sighs and puts it away.)
Boy: (Falls unconscious)
So, what do you think? The next chapter is funnier, I promise. Read and Review!