'
by Corde
As I quickly move from the realm of sillyfic to the
equally bizarre but scarier realm of badfic, I have
but two words to say: I’m sorry. Jeff Foxworthy
warning to meridianophobes (people who are afraid of
southerners).
*****
Chapter 1
“TAVLEK!” Corde shouted.
Chapter 2
“Was that the freakazoid Farscape version of
‘Rosebud’?” Jaimie asked.
“Er, yeah, something like that,” admitted Corde. “Holy
frelling son of a bacchae.”
“Corde,” Tinka said warningly, “you’re mixing genres
again.”
Corde sighed. “I know. But I have to do something to
make this fic interesting. I think I’m running out of
ideas.”
“Nonsense,” said Aeryn. Tinka closed her eyes and put
her hands over her ears. “You just aren’t inspired.”
“Oh, and I was before? Even Ekiri said they were
getting worse.”
“No, she just said the last one wasn’t as hilarious as
the others. Get a grip, Corde, you’ll get an idea. You
always do.” Aeryn was attempting to be reassuring.
It didn’t work. “But what if I don’t?” Corde wailed.
“What if I only had a certain amount of silliness in
my entire life, and I used it all in those seven
fics?”
“Six,” said Aeryn.
“My fic folder has seven,” argued Corde.
“Yeah, but that last one wasn’t very good.”
“Neither is this one,” said Jaimie.
“Hey wait,” said Corde, realizing something. “Aren’t
you and Tinka at a Kid Rock concert?”
“Yep,” said Jaimie. “In this story we’re just products
of your twisted psyche.” Tinka nodded her agreement.
“Oh,” said Corde. “Well, now that we’ve established
that…”
Chapter 3
“Why don’t you write what you wrote in GED class
today?” asked Aeryn. “It will fill space if nothing
else.”
“So this is all about filling space, huh? All I do is
mumble for three pages and call it a fic?” Corde was
beginning to get angry. Mostly at herself, since she
couldn’t think of anything to write about.
“It’s worked before,” said Aeryn. “Look, just call it
chapter 4 and get on with it.”
“ ‘Get on with it’ she says. Huh. Maybe she’d like to
be the author sometimes…”Corde grumbled as she got her
notebook.
Chapter 4
Reciprocal Identities
sin Q = 1/csc Q
cos Q = 1/sec Q
tan Q = 1/cot Q
Pythagorean Identities
“What the frell are you doing?” Aeryn yelled.
“Oops, wrong page. These are the trig notes I took…
okay, here’s the stuff I wrote.”
Chapter 4
“Corde,” said Aeryn, “what are you doing? You’re
supposed to be reviewing trig. You are going to have
to take math in college. And they won’t be learning
about absolute values either. Unlike this class…”
“I know,” said Corde. “I’m warming up for the writing
section of the pre-GED. I left the math for last, so
I’m doing writing today.”
“Warming up? What a lame excuse,” said Aeryn. “You’re
just trying to get out of trig.”
“No, really,” said Corde. “This creativity stuff
doesn’t come in the mail, y’know. I have to exercise
my creative muscles constantly.”
“But this isn’t a creative thing,” Aeryn argued. “It’s
an essay thing. ‘Which one of the 19th century
American presidents are you most like, and why’ and
suchlike. You could do that in your sleep.”
{Jeff Foxworthy alert!} “I useta’could,” Corde
corrected. “But I haven’t written a five paragraph
paper since last May. I’ve nearly forgotten how. If I
want this little thing to be good, it will have to be
entertaining. Besides,” she added sheepishly,” my
graphing calculator is broken.”
“The batteries are dead, stupid,” Aeryn scoffed.
“I know that now,” Corde snapped. She looked up at
what the class was doing. “Ava help me, they’re
learning FRACTIONS!”
“No need to get snooty about fractions, Miss
I-can’t-do-trig-without-my-calculator.” Aeryn
admonished. “You’re learning vectors; they’re learning
fractions. It’s all math. Now can it and do your
trig.”
Chapter 5
“So how did you do on your writing test?” asked
Jaimie.
“I don’t know. She didn’t have time to grade it before
I left,” said Corde.
“WUSS!” yelled Zhaan.
“Why does she keep doing that?” Jaimie wondered,
staring at the blue delvian.
“Someone said they liked it, so Corde thinks if she
does it every time, at least one person will like her
fic,” explained Crichton, who had just walked into the
room wearing nothing but boxer shorts.
A faint, muffled cry was heard, of many female voices.
“Thank you!” they called.
“Anytime,” Corde yelled back.
Aeryn smacked Crichton upside the head. “Put some
clothes on.”
Crichton stood motionless for a few moments, and then
walked away again.
“They wouldn’t do that on Seinfeld,” said Jaimie.
“Yeah, they probably would,” said Chia Pet.
“You’re right, they would,” said Jaimie.
“Hey,” said Chia Pet. “Where’d everybody go?”
THE END
Chapter 6
Tinka uncovered her ears. She didn’t hear anything.
She opened her eyes. Nothing. “Uh, hey, Jaimie? Corde?
Where did everybody go?”
THE END
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