Saving Yoko

Chapter 1

           I woke up to the sound of chickens, squawking from the next door farm. The sun was brightly shining despite my sad life. But that's the way it always is. This isn't a movie. The sky doesn't dim just because a single person is sad out of the millions of people on earth. The chickens were still squawking loudly. The last thing I wanted was to listen to their 'happy cries'.
        "Shut up!" I yelled.  "Geez... I swear if those farmers don't get their chickens under control..." I said to myself. I would have said it to Yoko... if he were here. And I would have put underwear on before I sat down... if I had any. But hey, the sorrows of life right? Just gotta cry until i can't anymore.
      Narrator: I think we'll come back when this       story gets a little more interesting...
        "Didn't u hear me?! This isn't a movie, play, or comedy show! There is no narrator! Go away!" I screamed. I ate my soggy waffle from the mini-fridge in my room in the bathtub that day  because I was to tired to go down stairs. Life goes on even without underpants... and Yoko.
                                   =^.^=
        It's been two months. TWO WHOLE FLIPPING MONTHS AND NOTHING HAS CHANGED....I still have no underpants... and my dog's ghost still looms over my head, like a fart looming around someone's butt. Truthfully, I just want to forget, go back to normal. I decided, if I want to be the left alone, I'd have to get up. That one was a struggle. My bed was permanently imprinted with my 2 month body print. I stood like a newborn baby, barely being able to walk. Especially without underpants. OK, I said to myself again. I'm going to try a couple things, and if none of them work on getting me out of bed, I'm probably gonna sit in bed for another 2 months.
The first thing I tried was touching my toes...well... Yeah I'll just say it... I couldn't even touch my knees. My stomach fat had grown so much that my arms could barely get over my chest, and even if they did, I couldn't bend the way I needed to to touch my toes. My back cracked just from sitting up. I know... I'm so unhealthy and unfit that I probably don't count as human anymore...
          Narrator: yes you would be correct there... you can't even touch your toes... Wow.
         "BE QUIET! YOU'RE NOT HERE!" I yelled at the so called 'narrator' (his name is in quotes because he isn't actually here. You can ignore him for the rest of the story now.)
          Narrator: Hey! Just because it's in ( ) doesn't mean i can't hear you!
        Well as I was saying... When I realized I wasn't getting anywhere with touching my toes I gave up. I don't need to look like an idiot with my arms flailing in the air even if there is no one else here.
        The second thing I tried was rolling over. That was probably the funniest thing that you've never seen... I couldn't even get on my side because I had no strength in any places at all. Especially the places I needed for this.
So after that didn't work I tried scooting against the wall. I pushed and shoved against it, and I rolled straight out of my bed onto the floor, down the stairs, and into a pile of trash from two months ago. And when you get stuck in that, let me tell you, you don't really feel like doing anything except taking a shower, especially after you actually managed to get out of bed. So I slowly walked up the steps to the bathroom, and as I thought... my knees gave up on me. I fell right back down the stairs and into the trash... AGAIN! Well, once that happened I decided I wasn't going to try to get back up the stairs until this trash was were it needed to be. And when you try to bend over a million times without underwear, well, it also doesn't end well... and I'll tell you how it ends. It ends when your pants fall down, and everything is hanging out, and you trip over your pants into another pile of trash, and you hit your head on the trashcan, and a CRASH resounds around your neighborhood, and your neighbor and their chickens get worried and rush over to your house (your neighbor is a girl) and see you bathing in trash that is two months old. And yes... everything is hanging out...
       That is how your first trip down stairs in two months ends, that is how your life ends, that is how your neighbor's life ends, that is how the squawking of chickens in the mourning ends, that is how your house ownership in that area ends, and that is how this story ends... I did NOT EVER say the title determines the ending. Goodbye.

                     THE TRAGIC END

Narrator: Oh dear... what a horribly written story... Why was there a prologue and a chapter if the story ends after one chapter? And why am I in it? This is is an incredible insult to narrators across the world!
"SHUT UP! NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO TALK AFTER THE END!"