Shaman King Fan Fiction ❯ The Shaman King Fanfiction of Unmentionable Horror ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter Two:

 

Lyserg felt better. He sat on a slate floor, swallowed in night. This was what he really wanted. If he had been Shaman King, it would've been like this. An alabaster moon broke out and cast a river of glinting light across the floor. A poison green light glowed from the corner. If he was Shaman King…his mind let the images run before his eyes.

The hazy moon would illuminate a few clouds over a beach. Navy waves crashed and bubbled with pearly foam. A flock of pale birds soared, shrieking. From somewhere, a strange pulsing sensation ran. It went beneath his feet in a frenzied way. The harsh sun would never burn his eyes again. It was eternal night.

“Yes,” he breathed. Lyserg's eyes searched the room. There was always the poison green light to wait there, to comfort him. His mind swept up from the midnight beach.

There were lights harsher and brighter than his loving poison one. The colors illuminated his darkened skin and the pulsing sensation was stronger, faster. Sweat ran steadily from his body, but it only added to his strange euphoria.

If he were Shaman King, it would have been real. Lyserg would have been a new person. He would be the Indian M.C. Hammer!

 

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“Yes, it's true,” the blonde moaned, her hand against her forehead. “I'm very sick, and I'm probably gonna die!” Faust finished buttoning the spare shirt. When he wasn't looking, the blonde ate a French fry after dragging it down her skirt (ketchup, remember?). “You'd better sit on the bleachers while I see what's wrong with you,” Faust said, pointing to a bench.

 

The brunette glared in jealousy. She put a teddy bear near Faust and groped him. “Holy crap!” Faust jumped up and shrieked, pointing at the bear. “That bear just grabbed my freakin' ass!” He was oblivious to the giggles coming from the blonde.

 

Horohoro woke up in a dazed state. Like in all fanfiction, if the injury doesn't kill them, they will heal magical perfect. While he was passed out, Ren had made a diorama on his head. The forest ground was impaled on the spikes in his hair. The scene rose around the floor, and the cute li'l woodland creatures poked their fluff noses from the carefully propped flowers and shrubs. Also there was that 2004 picture with Janet Jackson. She was hiding behind a tree.

 

Anyways, Faust was examining *cough* the blonde. The brunette stabbed her with a fondue fork. “Oh! Ummm, if I'm going to die, can you do me a favor?” A hand with a cup of yogurt appeared from beneath the bleachers.

 

Suddenly, Mr. Osbourne appeared again, shrieking, “BUBBLEESSS!” He slammed into Faust, who went flying in the air. His shirt caught on a duck and then he fell. When he landed, he was unconscious.

 

Anna removed the cylinders of pink foam and stood back to admire her work. Fifty-two glossy black curls flowed and framed Ryo's face. Yoh sat with a mirror, applying Ember-Orange lip liner to himself, admiring the star-and-moon pattern on his stilettos. He groaned as the liner dragged in a crooked line outside his naturally plump lips. It's hard trying to put on liner and smoke a blunt.

 

Ren touched the pokey part of his hair, making sure it was in place. The pokey `do was a tradition passed down to all of the males in the Tao line. At a young age, he had been taken to the best hair-comby person in the `hood. His hair had once been platinum blonde, but the purple glue/cement allowed a metal component to be attached. This kept the pokey in place and gave a beautiful, high-gloss finish.

 

Faust lay very still. Night had fallen, and every one else had gone home. The brunette poked him with the fondue fork. He rolled into his back. Ozzy stood next to the brunette, holding a can of tea and shivering. “F**k this, I'm going home.” It was just Faust and the brunette. Quietly, she pulled down his pants and took pictures.

 

A/N- Ha! Sorry it took so long to update, my net connection was down…Well, if she pulls down his pants and he had no shirt, well, the brunette just needs naked pictures, not pictures of that. Phrases such as, “the best hair-comby person in the hood,” opposed to “the finest hairdresser in the world,” are the way Stan actually talks. Yeah. The brunette's grammar in later chapters is a reflection on Stan's generally idiotic (funny, but idiotic, says Sharky) sentence structure. XD