Disclaimer: DO NOT READ THIS WITHOUT READING "The Tom And Jerry Tale".
Highest Ranking: 3 in Humour. (Thank you all!)
Same goal. Different motive.
Same family. Different blood.
But there are a few things that keeps them fighting - pran...
(A/N: Chad's neighbourhood >^, just imagine a few people on the street)
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"If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change." ~Wayne Dyer.
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•BRAD•
"Chad, would you get off me?" I asked, shooting an annoyed look over my shoulder.
"Nope." He said pressing his 'p'. I hate it when people do that. His hands tightened around my shoulder.
"Run, donkey, RUN!" He screamed in my ear. He kicked my leg, as if I was his 'donkey'.
"CHAD!" I shouted, bending backward so he could get off.
"What?" He asked, his hands still on my neck.
"What makes you think that I would give you a piggy back ride?" I asked incredulously. What does this guy think he's doing?!
"Well, you don't have a choice now." He said, shaking my shoulders. His legs tightened around my stomach and his hands clutched my neck.
Oh lord, please don't let me die like this. Not by his hands.
"Up, donkey, up!" He yelled again.
"Are you possessed by a one year old?" I asked, slowly trying to walk.
I can take his weight because of all that training but walking on the streets with him on my back is like walking upside down with neon pants to a business meeting.
I'll go along with this stupid idea for some time, then I'll just throw him down and run. Perfect idea right?
Wrong.
I walked ten blocks before collapsing – backward. He was purposely trying to make me lose my balance – tipping sideways, kicking my legs and all.
"Why?" I groaned. Chad somehow managed to get off me before I fell.
"I've been thinking of ways to torture you." He said standing on my shoes.
"Ow!" I said, drawing my legs back.
That's it. He is so dead.
Chad sensed my anger and muttered a curse before turning around and running.
That's right, Chad. Run.
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I held my bag closer and sprinted behind him. I dodged the slow walkers on the street and pushed the poles to gain speed.
Chad occasionally glanced back, to see if I'm still chasing.
I won't stop chasing until I garrotte him using his own hands and then feeding him to a blue donkey. Then, I would burry that donkey (which would obviously die after eating Chad) in lava.
Donkeys don't eat meat.
I care a lot.
I was just fifty meters close to him when he decided to abruptly change his direction.
Oldest trick in the book.
I bent myself down, skidding in the process before changing my direction. If you imagined that to look cool, it did. I guess I even started a spark with my shoes on the ground.
"Chad, you know you're dead. Quit trying!" I yelled, reaching my arm out to grab his shirt.
Missed.
"But I'm not as dead as your brain!" He yelled, running faster. He glanced back and stuck his tongue out at me.
Really, dude?
Even I am more mature than him.
Right, and that's exactly why you're chasing him all around the street – again.
Right.
Chad tried some "tricks" on me. He jumped over a bike and zig zagged around lamp posts. I copied him, narrowly missing his collar.
"TIME UP. PAUSE." He panted, making a T sign with his hand. He reached a dead end and I was taking slow steps towards him. I wanted to burst out laughing at his face, but I held it in. I made a deathly expression, hoping some dramatic music would sound from the sky.
Sadly, it didn't happen.
Chad inched back and I stepped forward. He looked hilarious when he was scared. That must mean that I am pretty scary looking sometimes.
I pulled out a ball point pen from my pocket.
It's sharp, so I use it to threaten people.
Chad hit his head to the wall behind him. I put my arm on his neck and held the ball point pen right over his eye.
He gulped visibly. I almost laughed.
"I would destroy your face, but I won't be able to beat Mother Nature." I said, dropping the pen.
Dejavu.
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"And this is what I call a tying transporter."
"Max, it's a rope." I said, holding the rope in my hands loosely.
"No. It's called a thing transporter. You can use it to tie things and also to lower yourself down or climb." He said, as if he'd invented it.
"It's call–"
"Whatever. This is an arrow gun. It shoots arrows and not bullets."
I'm pretty sure that too, has a proper name.
"This, is the slip–no–catcher." He said, tossing a bottle of oil from his cupboard. He went on giving us other 'cool gadgets' that would help us get my mom.
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Yeeaaaahhhhh, this isn't really edited soooooo..... I'm just gunna.... Hide.
