Teenage Wildlife

The Story Chapter Eight

Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21


The following is an ongoing work of composite fiction by contributors from the Message Board. Due to the erratic nature of its construction the editors apologize for any omissions or lack of attribution to the proper authors. This story is on-going and will be archived here periodically. For current chapters, comments, or to add you own chapter, please visit the Message Board. This story is a work of fiction. Names have been changed to protect the guilty and any similarity to actual events is purely coincidental.


He walked down the red brick road...a song in his head. "Follow the red brick road...follow the red brick road..." He sighs in frustration. "So, what the HELL am I supposed to do now?" he asks himself. A screech on his right catches his attention. "Why look, its the Tin Man, still un-oiled since stupid Dorothy left. Hallo Tin Man" he says, for lack of anything better to do.

The Tin Man looks at him strangely. "Who the HELL are you?..." he asks David. David just looks at him. "Could you oil me, please?" the Tin Man asks. David nods and picks up the oil can.

Suddenly, the Tin Man morphs into Michael Bolton!! NOOO!! David screams and jumps back..."Michael...no!!" He throws the can at Bolton and runs down the red brick road...


...as fast as his nobly old legs will carry him. Which is pretty fast, considering Michael Bolton is hot on his tail. Squeak Clatter Plink go Tin Man Bolton's rusty old joints. Squeak Plink Creak go Running Man Dave's rusty old joints. He lights a fag as he runs, and shouts over his shoulder as Bolton begins to gain on him: "We can't go ON like this anymore, Michael!! It's always the same thing with you, luv! You've got to learn to LET GO!!" He begins to sing "If you love somebody, set them free" when Bolton takes a flying leap and lands seated on Dave's shoulders. The two men fall clattering to the red brick road. Michael's tin head snaps off, and David falls, not for the first time, unconscious...

"Where am I?"

You've been having yet another of those dreams one has when one needs to get out of a potential narrative collapse I'm afraid, David. Cheap tactic, and cliched, but effective, I think you'll find. At least for the time being. The past twenty five or so episodes of this story have indeed been just a dream. You know, those Message Boarders just don't know how to maintain the fine balance, the wonderful tension between chaos and continuity. Thank God there's a control freak or two among them dedicated to keeping the unwieldly beast that is The Evil Story alive."

"Who are you?"

"Never mind that now, David. Just close your eyes and rest."

"But you look very familiar?"

"Hush now. Shhh..."

David's eyelids begin to droop.

"I know you." he murmurs to his companion, "Yes... Bill something... Bill Strung??..No that's not it... oh, I'm so tired... BALL OF STRING!!!! AAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!

David tries to leap to his feet - but too late. Smiling enigmatically Ball of String strings Dave up by his wrists.

"You liked my craft project with Baby Grace? Wait till you see what I've got in store for you my lovely!"

Ball of String sashays across the room to the refrigerator and Dave takes the opportunity to admire the decor: several fey crocodile skin bean bags, crimson flocked wallpaper, a seashell encrusted coffee table. Nice work, he thinks. Seated in the bean bags, around a fire upon which a koala marinated in Vegemite is spit roasting, are the Message Boarders - all the old regulars and several newcomers. The room is small, and the Message Boarders are stacked, four or five deep, on one another's laps. It is a hot day. Dave closes his eyes and licks the sweat from his lips. The savory stench of charred koala fur fills his nostrils. "At least we're back in Australia," he he thinks.

"Ahem," says Ball of String "if you could just pay attention! You are about to become art."

With that, Ball of String picks up a butter knife and begins to roll slowly towards our hero.

"Aaaagghhh NO!!!!" Dave screams. "Yes. Yes. Yes." chant the Message Boarders as one. And then, it happens:

The Happening

A Ball of String "butters" a suspended rock icon thoroughly with mono-unsaturated margarine. A throng of chanting sycophants lick the rock icon "clean". Afterwards, the rock icon is cut down, and a koala is eaten.


Of course, the rock icon is immediately tied up again and he isn't given any of the gentle eucalyptus-eater's tasty meat. No, he has been able to sustain himself over the weeks on nothing but cigarettes and fruity drinks (OK, and one powdery donut!); David is a superman, and he need not fuss with such mortal necessities as food. After all, he must keep his youthful figure. And the Vegemite-marinade tends to make him gassy. But, dammit, that koala smells sooo good, and suddenly he feels sooo hungry! He tentatively licks his lips, hoping to find some trace of the butter that just moments before slicked his entire body.

But Steve made it a point to lick Bowie's lips clean of the dairy product and not so much as a faint buttery residue is left. Ramona skewers a large chunk of savory koala meat onto the end of her knife and places it just inches away from David's lips, just far enough that he CAN'T reach it (hey, grant her this one indulgence; after all, Margot hid the turkey baster from her and she had plans for that and the butter...). "I can't stand to see you treat him like this!!" D.S. screams. "Here, let me help." He picks up a large rose from a vase on top of the seashell encrusted coffee table. He rips off the petals and shoves them into Bowie's mouth. Bowie looks at him with a *God Bless You* look in his eyes (at least the good one) while he gratefully munches on the petals.

Just then in walks Reeves Gabrels. Reeves's highly acute olfactory nerve caught the whiff of roasting marsupial, and he followed it all the way down to Australia.

Reeves grabs a hank of yummy koala thigh from Robot Monster. She moans out "Oh Reeves Reeves Reeves" as she melts into a potent puddle of 20-something raging groupie lust. Reeves knows an easy piece of ass when he sees it, but when it comes to choosing between Women and Food, he always picks the latter. Reeves bites a big ol' chunk out of the koala thigh. He notices David, with his mouth full of rose petals, and...

Hel (.....what next?)

remarks: "Always trying to be different, eh David?" Dave gasps, choking on the roses. Spitting and coughing, he manages to clear his mouth.

"YOU should talk" he growls at Reeves. "You shave your head ON PURPOSE! I love your guitar work, but I really am sick of having the fans tell me you look like Uncle Fester up there on stage!"

"Oh shut up, you love it" replies Reeves. "You've NEVER worked with anyone remotely thin, blonde, or good looking. Can't take the competition!"

David is momentarily at a loss for words.

"And" continues Reeves "what's with these photos in WEB magazine? I mean, the one where you are bursting through the plastic sheet! Simply trying to show off all those new teeth, hey?"

"Well" chime in the Message Boarders..."since you're both here, why don't we...."

**Margot (zzzzzz)

"have a nice, big SLEEP!" "Not just a fitful, dream-infested sleep," chirps the lovely Jacko, "but a proper restful one, in proper beds, with proper pillows and pyjamas and everything!" "Yay!" cheer Jenn and Jessica, "a sleep over!!"

"For nine wonderful, unbroken hours!" whispers Dave, now a virtual zombie with the exhaustion of it all. "And in the morning we'll have bread and toast and honey and a bowl of oranges too," chimes in D.S. So Hel passes around the sleeping pills out of Ball of String's bathroom cabinet, and everyone falls down comatose.

**Hel...(which can be a very good thing.....!)

David alone remains awake, having cleverly stashed his sleeping pills against his cheek instead of swallowing. As the MBers snore in the environmentally sinful beanbags and all OVER each other, David quietly tiptoes 'OUTSIDE' and finds......


...a small piece of caramel popcorn with a peanut stuck to it, lying on the ground. "Oh goody!" exclaims David. "It's a Screaming Yellow Zonker! I've not had one of those in AGES." David reaches down and pops the buttery toffee flavored yummy into his mouth. He notices another Zonker! And then another. There appears to be a line of Zonkers! leading away from the dread portal of Ball of String's pad. David follows the path of Zonkers!, picking up each piece and popping them into his mouth with obvious glee. He doesn't even notice the obvious until it is too late. He walks over what appears to be a bunch of palm fronds on the ground, which of course turns out to be a TRAP

"Oh SSHHIIITTT!!!" David screams as he falls to the bottom of the pit. He hits the bottom, and the pit is so deep that he knows there is no way that he can climb out. Just then he hears a blood-curdling war cry and Bunny, a junior Amazonian warrior from the Lost Tribe of the Wild Women of the Outback, jumps into the pit. She floors David with a quick hit just behind his knees with her didgeroo. With lightning speed Bunny hogties David and gags him.

She hoists him over her shoulder and walks right up the wall of the pit (hey, she's from a Lost Tribe after all and they've preserved ancient, mystic ways of getting out of any situation). Bunny hops aboard her kangaroo and rides it (bareback) toward the town center of the Lost Tribe.

When Bunny gets there she is met by her sister Wild Women warriors, all of whom of course look like they've just stepped out of Russ Meyer's last wet dream. "Look what I found!" Bunny cries out. "It's a MAN!!"

Ooohhh!" say the other Wild Women in chorus. Bunny leaps off of her kangaroo's back and, with David still slung over her shoulder, walks towards Big Mama's hut.

"You have done well, daughter", drawls Big Mama. "Now we can once again populate our warrior stock. We've lost so many of our fearless warriors following that last cat fight with the Guerilla Avon Ladies. This specimen of Man should serve our breeding purposes quit nicely. Wild Women of the Outback will once again reclaim this land. Let the word be spread that this Man will be used for stud service tonight at midnight and....


...raffled off as a meat tray at dawn!"

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This document last updated Saturday, 15-Apr-2000 15:37:50 EDT
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