Wow. Okay, so normally if I'm having writer's block on a story I write another one. But, in this case, I'm having an Eminem hiatus period (when he was on his hiatus, he said everything he wrote wasn't worth recording, and everything I write isn't worth publishing) and can't write SHIT! So, here's a new funny story, kind of a parody. It's where the HG characters all get lost in the woods with yours truly (that's me, dipshits). This story kind of brings out my true side. I'm kind of not normal. I seriously don't know what drugs I was on when I wrote this, but eh! Enjoy! Warning: lots of language and weirdness and stuff. M to be safe. Language, and who knows what else in the future. My name in this story is Shady, because that's my FanFiction name but shorter. c: 'Cause I'm lazy as fudge. Oh, shoutout to Anarchy Girl, who's hilarious parodies inspired me to write this. Also shout out to Eminem's old show The Slim Shady Show, which also inspired me. I would put the characters of that into this, but I don't want to copy Anarchy Girl. Also, names of characters who were originally unnamed either came from one of my other stories or was made up just now. So yeah. Long-ass author's note... *sniff*
"Is my makeup smeared?" Glimmer asked me for the seven hundred eighty-fifth time. "'Cause, y'know, there's so much humidity in these woods."
I gritted my teeth. "No, Glimmer, your precious makeup is fine. Leave me alone, please?"
She blinked and frowned, processing the information. I could almost see the gears spinning in her tiny brain, just at my simple instruction to back off. Then she nodded. "Okay."
Glimmer went off to annoy Marvel.
I went forward to Cato, who was looking down at a map at the front of our unusual parade of all ages, dead and alive. How, I have no idea. But here we all were, stuck in the woods together.
When night came and we had to huddle for warmth I would shoot myself.
"Any luck?" I asked the big, strong, feared hunk from 2. He wasn't actually as violent as the book described him. Kind of, but not quite. But I did notice the District 3 boy from Katniss' Games, Xavier, distanced himself from Cato.
"Nah. This map is so damn hard to read!"
Cato was, like, 6 feet. He could be hella scary when he tried. But he seemed to have a soft spot for me. I was twelve, and oddly not innocent and sweet at all. What made me different than Rue, who he probably would have killed on the spot had he stumbled upon her in the arena?
But then again, there only one made it out alive. Here? Nah, life or death wasn't really an issue. We'd come across this old hippy guy named Snow (coincident? I think not!) who lived in a cabin in the woods with a wine cellar stocked full of food. He'd joined us on our hike through the woods and helped us load his huge stash of cans into the trailer dragging behind his old pick up truck. Now he rumbled behind us slowly with Rue, Prim, and a few other people who's legs were too weak to walk a distance.
Clove, who was actually the same height as me (we were both 5'5), was on Cato's other side, watching with needle shart eyes every movement the forest made. I watched her, half in awe and half in horror. Because, y'know, she's a story book character and she's dead.
Actually, everyone there was a story book character except me. (I guess I was just speeeccciiialll.) And, the best part? They looked and sounded just like they did in the movie! I resisted the urge to run up and give Josh Hutcherson and Alexander Ludwig a hug before I realized they were in Peeta and Cato mode. Both were still plenty friendly, though. Well, as friendly as a half-deranged bread-boy and a half-eaten assassin-boy could be.
From behind us, Paylor's easy voice spoke out. "I wish we could do something. This is a very dangerous place, and without the proper supplies we could all easily perish."
"Thank you, Captian Obvious," I said without looking back, and I caught a flicker of a smile on both Clove and Cato's faces.
"I don't see why you don't have a cell phone," Cashmere said from behind me, somewhere. "I had one when I was your age."
"Yeah, well, guess what, Cash? Reality check: you're dead now."
There was silence, and I figured she was trying to figure something to say.
"That is a good question, though." Clove told me in her rigid voice. "Where is your cell? You had your MP3 Player."
"Does anyone even have MP3 Players anymore?" Marvel asked, just as Glimmer said, "Yeah, with shitty music on it."
Glimmer didn't say more, but Marvel continued. "I mean, everyone has an iPod now. They're so much more classier."
"Bleh. Here's my answers: Clove, my cell was confiscated because I smart mouthed my mom, which, I might add, isn't unusual for me. Marvel- which, by the way, is a gay-ass name- I do, because my parents are cheap. Glim, my music is epic. You can't touch Eminem."
"One Direction is way better," she muttered.
I opened my mouth to claim disgust, but Marvel interupted, saying, "Wayne's better."
Now Cato snorted. "He's such a fag. The guy's like five in a half feet tall."
"His lyrics are poetic," Marvel argued.
"More like pathetic." I muttered.
"Nuh-uh," Glimmer told him. "One Direction's are way better."
"They sound like drunk British chicks." Clove said now.
I blinked and said louder now, "How do you know all this? You're not exactly teenagers in normal 2013."
"We get around," Paylor said now. "And, personally, I like the old rock music. Metallica is brilliant."
"Psh," Marvel said, and as he said it I felt his spit hit the back of my neck. In disgust, I wiped it at it with my sleeve and discreetly wiped it on Clove's back. "Metallica my ass."
"They are pretty good," Cato said. "But I like classic hip hop. Tupac and Biggie and all them. Oh, and Run DMC. Turntables forever!"
"No," I said simply.
"No." I said again. "Shady 'til I die."
"Shady?" Paylor questioned. "Isn't that your name?"
"I got it from Slim Shady. That's Eminem's evil alter ego."
"Eminem? Oh yeah, man; he's ill." Marvel said from behind me. "I like Wayne more, but no doubt Slim is a lyrical genious."
I turned to fist bump him. "Aight, man! I hate you a little less now!"
Cashmere and Glimmer shared a laughed somewhere behind me, their giggles eerily similar.
"I wish I had an iPod right now," Glimmer said after a long pause. "I miss my long lost love, Zayn M-"
"Shut your face before I puke!" I called out loudly.
She did just that, and I grinned.
"Hey," Katniss said, making her way from behind me to next to me. "You said you named yourself after the guy's evil alter ego. Why would you do that?"
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. "Because, Katpiss, I can."
"Careful, Shady," Marvel warned, and then laughed. "They call her Fire Girl for a reason. She may explode if you piss her off."
Clove's expression didn't change at all as she said, "Or she'll shoot you."
"Oh?" I said, cocking an eyebrow. "This is news. I thought she only shot at Gamemakers."
"And apples," Seneca said somewhere from behind, laughing.
I looked back to see him next to Foxface. I turned around to walk backwards and look at them as I said, "Discussing your very berry deaths?"
Seneca blinked. "Y'know, I don't know why everyone thinks that. They actually hung me. That's why Katniss here hung my doll for her session in the 75th Games."
I gave him a look. "How do you know what she did? Stalker!"
"I'm dead. Like half the people here. I see all."
"Can you see this?" Behind my back, I flipped him off.
"I see a pissy, fat bitch," I heard Darius say from somewhere in the far back. I looked to see that Mrs. Mellark was in front of him. She didn't seem to hear; she was too focused on dragging Peeta along by his ear.
"Ow," Peeta muttered. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow."
"Shut up," she hissed, holding up a loaf of bread. "Before I smack you silly with this."
He shut up.
I blinked. I should try that; smacking people with bread. Sounds fun, and he obeyed her, didn't she?
I grinned devilishly. Maybe getting teleported from my bedroom (where I was leaning back on my bed, listening to music with my eyes closed) to a forest with a bunch of book characters wasn't so bad. I may learn a few things...