Post by ArwingAce21 on Dec 4, 2007 15:10:42 GMT -8
Time for another update!!!! Whooo!!!
Everyone watching: -_-
Ace: What? Okay, I'll get on with it.
The studio. A large building devoted solely to a single purpose: handing out tons of money to people who sit in a chair, contemplating random trivia (Ha! You thought I was going to say “warts!”) purely for the enjoyment of millions of random people who happen to be watching via live satellite TV. It was for this purpose that four of the greatest pilots in Lylat gathered, searching a large, warehouse-like room for the all-important reception desk. Then it hit them: They were in a warehouse. The actual studio was further down the street. Whoops.
Once in the correct building, our quartet quickly found the reception desk. Fox began intently asking questions of the lady at the desk like an old pro.
“Umm, ma’am, would there possibly be a chance that we, could, uhhh, y’know, like…”
“What he means to say is can we be on the show today?!?” Falco never was on for subtlety.
“Sirs and ma’am, I’m afraid- Or is it sirs and ma’ams?”
Slippy hated his high-pitched voice. It always gave folks the wrong ideas.
“Anyway, I’m afraid that you will have to fill out an application and audition first.”
Falco snarled, and fingered his blaster, but was stopped when Fox placed his hand on Falco’s shoulder.
“Okay, where are the applications?” Fox asked in a dejected voice.
“They’re right here, but first I’ll need your names.”
“I’m Fox McClo-”
“Hold on a minute, aren’t y’all StarFox squadron?”
“The one and only.” Falco couldn’t resist bragging.
“Wow, it’s great to meet you! My boss, Reginald- err, Mr. Phlubbin, will be glad you’re interested in being on the show. He’s your biggest fan, y’know.”
“Well, that’s quite an honor.” Fox had quite the weak spot for flattery.
“Mr. McCloud, may I ask you one question?”
“Sure, and just call me Fox.”
“Okay, Fox. Just when are you planning on marrying Krystal?! Everyone on Corneria knows you two have been going out for almost two years now!”
“Uh, well, um, ah...I don’t quite know how to answer that…” Fox was blushing redder than a fire engine. Unless you’re talking about on of those newfangled green ones, in which case Fox may consider getting that looked at.
Krystal, on the other hand, didn’t say anything; she simply wore a sly grin. Falco was trying to contain his laughter, while Slippy was busy contemplating his 128 warts. I have no idea where he puts them. It must be a huge mess, all those…Better yet, just forget all about that particular mental image. Whatever you do, don’t think about it as you try to fall asleep tonight.
Luckily, Fox didn’t have to stammer out a coherent answer, because, right then, Mr. Reginald Phlubbin himself emerged from his office, and, upon seeing all four members of StarFox squadron standing right there in his lobby, gave a shout of joy, and, after carefully shutting his office door, proceeded to, with extreme care, make the author end this sentence without any more commas. No, he actually ran over to the team and heartily greeted them.
“Wow! The StarFox squadron, here in my studio, trying to get on my show!”
“That’s the general idea, sir,” said Fox.
“Call me Reginald, Fox. So, you’re wondering if-”
“If we can get on your show without applications or auditions,” finished Falco.
“Well, you see, normally those are required, but for y’all, well…” he drifted off into thought.
“Well what?!?” Falco wasn’t a patient being.
“Well, sure. But only one person can come on the show. Fox, perhaps?”
Fox was caught off guard, as the receptionist’s question had turned his thoughts to the blue vixen behind him.
“Of course he’ll do it!” exclaimed Slippy, happy to finally have a serious line in this story.
“Okay then, it’s settled. Please follow me into my office.”
Reginald and the boys of StarFox walked off in the direction of the office, but Krystal stayed behind. When they were out of earshot, she asked the receptionist:
“How did you know to ask that question? It’s been on my mind for months! Why won’t he just propose?”
“Heheh, woman’s intuition, my dear Krystal, woman’s intuition. I think he’ll propose soon enough, just give him time.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yep. And I believe you better catch up with your group.”
The receptionist nodded towards the guys across the room and Krystal bolted off after them, her mind tumultuous, and yet peaceful. Suddenly, a thought entered her mind: ‘That’s an oxymoron!’
Once everyone was in the office, Reginald began explaining the rules of the game to Fox, while everyone else listened intently. This session was wasted on the group, who had spent hours upon wasted hours watching the show. As soon as Reginald finished, Fox was ushered into the green room to await the show, Falco, Krystal and Slippy were shown into the auditorium and given front row seats right in front of a camera so that when Fox gets stuck on a question, they can show the looks of consternation on his friend’s faces, or in Slippy’s case, contemplation of his warts. (That’s 256 of them now, providing my calculator still works.) Reginald Phlubbin, however, was shown into his personal dressing room so that his make-up artists could begin applying the three jars of rubber cement to his face. The author was not shown anywhere. He was simply glad that this story is being told from the third person omniscient point of view, otherwise said author would have a devil of a time keeping up with everyone.
Fox was nervous. He hadn’t studied. He hadn’t told anyone he was going to be on the show today. He hadn’t thought that far. And then there was Krystal. It seemed like the fate not only of his team, but of his own future life, was revolving around the single show. However, Fox had bigger worries than that. The make-up girl had just had just came in and was covering Fox with powder, something he likened to being tarred and feathered. She finally left, and Fox proceeded to frantically wipe off the powder before the show began.
The studio audience was slowly trickling in. Falco, Krystal, and Slippy soon found themselves busy signing autographs, taking pictures, and generally pummeled by adoring fans. The whole crowd seemed to be full of StarFox fans, all eagerly awaiting the day’s show. Soon, the lights dimmed and music began to play. It’s show time!
Reginald: Whoo! It's time to party! I finally get to do what I do best!
Falco: Get on people's nerves?
Reginald: No, give away money.
Falco: Just where do you get all that money?
Reginald: Well, the author over there told me to knock over some ban-
Ace: That's quite enough there, Reginald. I asked him to knock over some...uhh..."banners" so that we could put up some new ones to make the set look better for Fox's TV debut. Isn't that right?
Reginald: Well, not exactl-OW! *Is elbowed in the ribs by Ace* Yep, that's exactly what I had to do.
Ace: Okay, that's what I thought.
Falco: -.-;
Coming soon to a message board near you! ArwingAce21's exhilirating new fanfic, Pirates of the Cornerian! Featuring Fox McCloud, Krystal, Slippy Toad, and Falco Lombardi. Also starring Capt. Jacques McCloud, Fox's great^34 grandpa, Capt. Zach Sparrow- *Announcer mysteriously keels over, unconscious, due to a dart in the neck*
Ace: *Hides blowgun behind back* Uhh, erm, I...uh, I mean, he gave away a few too many details for now. Anyway, here's some critical acclaim for Pirates of the Cornerian from the nice folks at FanFiction.Net:
"Haha! I love it; just like your other one [Who Desires to Attain the Status of a Millionaire], but better! You manage to reference just about everything and anything, and somehow hold it together in a completely nonsensical, yet perfectly logical story. Good job!"
Ace: Thank you, LylatFox! Well, that concludes this commercial, tune in next time for even more character revelations!!!
Shameless attempt to drum up readership? Yup. Anyway, it looks like it's time for the game show to begin! Can Fox make it all the way to the Million Credits? I don't know, but a dime says he's gonna have to "Trust his Instincts" to do it!
Everyone watching: -_-
Ace: What? Okay, I'll get on with it.
---
The studio. A large building devoted solely to a single purpose: handing out tons of money to people who sit in a chair, contemplating random trivia (Ha! You thought I was going to say “warts!”) purely for the enjoyment of millions of random people who happen to be watching via live satellite TV. It was for this purpose that four of the greatest pilots in Lylat gathered, searching a large, warehouse-like room for the all-important reception desk. Then it hit them: They were in a warehouse. The actual studio was further down the street. Whoops.
Once in the correct building, our quartet quickly found the reception desk. Fox began intently asking questions of the lady at the desk like an old pro.
“Umm, ma’am, would there possibly be a chance that we, could, uhhh, y’know, like…”
“What he means to say is can we be on the show today?!?” Falco never was on for subtlety.
“Sirs and ma’am, I’m afraid- Or is it sirs and ma’ams?”
Slippy hated his high-pitched voice. It always gave folks the wrong ideas.
“Anyway, I’m afraid that you will have to fill out an application and audition first.”
Falco snarled, and fingered his blaster, but was stopped when Fox placed his hand on Falco’s shoulder.
“Okay, where are the applications?” Fox asked in a dejected voice.
“They’re right here, but first I’ll need your names.”
“I’m Fox McClo-”
“Hold on a minute, aren’t y’all StarFox squadron?”
“The one and only.” Falco couldn’t resist bragging.
“Wow, it’s great to meet you! My boss, Reginald- err, Mr. Phlubbin, will be glad you’re interested in being on the show. He’s your biggest fan, y’know.”
“Well, that’s quite an honor.” Fox had quite the weak spot for flattery.
“Mr. McCloud, may I ask you one question?”
“Sure, and just call me Fox.”
“Okay, Fox. Just when are you planning on marrying Krystal?! Everyone on Corneria knows you two have been going out for almost two years now!”
“Uh, well, um, ah...I don’t quite know how to answer that…” Fox was blushing redder than a fire engine. Unless you’re talking about on of those newfangled green ones, in which case Fox may consider getting that looked at.
Krystal, on the other hand, didn’t say anything; she simply wore a sly grin. Falco was trying to contain his laughter, while Slippy was busy contemplating his 128 warts. I have no idea where he puts them. It must be a huge mess, all those…Better yet, just forget all about that particular mental image. Whatever you do, don’t think about it as you try to fall asleep tonight.
Luckily, Fox didn’t have to stammer out a coherent answer, because, right then, Mr. Reginald Phlubbin himself emerged from his office, and, upon seeing all four members of StarFox squadron standing right there in his lobby, gave a shout of joy, and, after carefully shutting his office door, proceeded to, with extreme care, make the author end this sentence without any more commas. No, he actually ran over to the team and heartily greeted them.
“Wow! The StarFox squadron, here in my studio, trying to get on my show!”
“That’s the general idea, sir,” said Fox.
“Call me Reginald, Fox. So, you’re wondering if-”
“If we can get on your show without applications or auditions,” finished Falco.
“Well, you see, normally those are required, but for y’all, well…” he drifted off into thought.
“Well what?!?” Falco wasn’t a patient being.
“Well, sure. But only one person can come on the show. Fox, perhaps?”
Fox was caught off guard, as the receptionist’s question had turned his thoughts to the blue vixen behind him.
“Of course he’ll do it!” exclaimed Slippy, happy to finally have a serious line in this story.
“Okay then, it’s settled. Please follow me into my office.”
Reginald and the boys of StarFox walked off in the direction of the office, but Krystal stayed behind. When they were out of earshot, she asked the receptionist:
“How did you know to ask that question? It’s been on my mind for months! Why won’t he just propose?”
“Heheh, woman’s intuition, my dear Krystal, woman’s intuition. I think he’ll propose soon enough, just give him time.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yep. And I believe you better catch up with your group.”
The receptionist nodded towards the guys across the room and Krystal bolted off after them, her mind tumultuous, and yet peaceful. Suddenly, a thought entered her mind: ‘That’s an oxymoron!’
Once everyone was in the office, Reginald began explaining the rules of the game to Fox, while everyone else listened intently. This session was wasted on the group, who had spent hours upon wasted hours watching the show. As soon as Reginald finished, Fox was ushered into the green room to await the show, Falco, Krystal and Slippy were shown into the auditorium and given front row seats right in front of a camera so that when Fox gets stuck on a question, they can show the looks of consternation on his friend’s faces, or in Slippy’s case, contemplation of his warts. (That’s 256 of them now, providing my calculator still works.) Reginald Phlubbin, however, was shown into his personal dressing room so that his make-up artists could begin applying the three jars of rubber cement to his face. The author was not shown anywhere. He was simply glad that this story is being told from the third person omniscient point of view, otherwise said author would have a devil of a time keeping up with everyone.
Fox was nervous. He hadn’t studied. He hadn’t told anyone he was going to be on the show today. He hadn’t thought that far. And then there was Krystal. It seemed like the fate not only of his team, but of his own future life, was revolving around the single show. However, Fox had bigger worries than that. The make-up girl had just had just came in and was covering Fox with powder, something he likened to being tarred and feathered. She finally left, and Fox proceeded to frantically wipe off the powder before the show began.
The studio audience was slowly trickling in. Falco, Krystal, and Slippy soon found themselves busy signing autographs, taking pictures, and generally pummeled by adoring fans. The whole crowd seemed to be full of StarFox fans, all eagerly awaiting the day’s show. Soon, the lights dimmed and music began to play. It’s show time!
---
Reginald: Whoo! It's time to party! I finally get to do what I do best!
Falco: Get on people's nerves?
Reginald: No, give away money.
Falco: Just where do you get all that money?
Reginald: Well, the author over there told me to knock over some ban-
Ace: That's quite enough there, Reginald. I asked him to knock over some...uhh..."banners" so that we could put up some new ones to make the set look better for Fox's TV debut. Isn't that right?
Reginald: Well, not exactl-OW! *Is elbowed in the ribs by Ace* Yep, that's exactly what I had to do.
Ace: Okay, that's what I thought.
Falco: -.-;
---
Coming soon to a message board near you! ArwingAce21's exhilirating new fanfic, Pirates of the Cornerian! Featuring Fox McCloud, Krystal, Slippy Toad, and Falco Lombardi. Also starring Capt. Jacques McCloud, Fox's great^34 grandpa, Capt. Zach Sparrow- *Announcer mysteriously keels over, unconscious, due to a dart in the neck*
Ace: *Hides blowgun behind back* Uhh, erm, I...uh, I mean, he gave away a few too many details for now. Anyway, here's some critical acclaim for Pirates of the Cornerian from the nice folks at FanFiction.Net:
"Haha! I love it; just like your other one [Who Desires to Attain the Status of a Millionaire], but better! You manage to reference just about everything and anything, and somehow hold it together in a completely nonsensical, yet perfectly logical story. Good job!"
~LylatFox
Ace: Thank you, LylatFox! Well, that concludes this commercial, tune in next time for even more character revelations!!!
---
Shameless attempt to drum up readership? Yup. Anyway, it looks like it's time for the game show to begin! Can Fox make it all the way to the Million Credits? I don't know, but a dime says he's gonna have to "Trust his Instincts" to do it!
