...:::*Little LOST Page*:::...

...My Little Lost Note

Yes, we've been waiting for like an hour or two, but we've done it! Yes, we have! Now let's go get entertained...

...The Story

???: Hello? This is so dark. Where am I?
Silence.
???: Anyone? Helloo~?
-Flip-
???: The bright light!! The glory of it all!!!
Lady: Markal!! Wake up! You’re head was under the sheets.
Mark: Well so~rry, mother… You ain’t the boss o’ me!
Mum: I’m your mum. Mark, I don’t know what to do with you…
Mark: I’m going, I’m going! ...(yeesh, mothers and their….tampering)
Mum: (I wonder what kind of soap Trish uses…wait, my extra-acute-motherly senses are picking something up…) I heard that! And where are you going?
Mark: Iunno, I thought you were gonna tell me to go to my room… Oh, wait… this is my room, isn’t it? Hahaha, I’m so blonde… for a dude with black hair dyed with red tips.
Mum: o_o
Some dude: o_o
Writer: o_o
Aliens: o_o
Moon (its morning so…for comic relief): o_o
Writer: Psst, I think he’s trying to be funny…
Aliens: ∂∑╞♀♀◦☼◄
Some dude: Well, you’re the writer, shouldn’t you know?
Moon: I think you’re right, Day-vie…
Some dude: Shut up, Moon…
Moon: You’re getting a little fat, Day-vie…
Mark: o_o Anyways… I better go to school…
Writer walks up with a cookie.
Writer: Why? It’s Wednesday…
Mark: o_o
Writer drops cookie.
Writer: OH CRAP! Oh, wait, I went to school already…
Mum: Where you just through my house? Clean that mess right up!
Writer: Yes si—err, ma’am…
Pause as Girl cleans up the mess…
Writer: Psst, Narrator… Narrator… NARRATOR!!!
Everyone: SHU~T UP!
Writer: Sorry. I’ll just… clean… this up…
Narrator: Oh, sorry Girl, just had this little… OH. MY. GOD. THOSE ARE COOKIE CRUMBS!!!
Writer: Dude, man, ya’ gots ‘ta narrate so the story can begin…
Narrator (eating crumbs): Nyeh, the audience always hates the narrator, I don’t see the point… But if we just kept having you in here, it’d be hell, if ya know what I’m saying?! Hahahaha…
Writer: We? I mean… Hell? With me? W’I’ll get you!!!
The writer pounces onto Narrator with such force, ripping him to bits. This text is unforeseen and therefore, is being written by me, Bill, the weekend guy…

I’m sorry for this inconvenience to leave you hanging, but… hang on. Next time, we shall continue this story of slapstick. But until then, I shall leave you hanging on the cliff’s edge so that if a screaming moose runs by, s/he can run over all your hopes and dreams while you grasp the edge thinking ‘how do I live like this?’ even though you shall fall onto your jagged death…… Pant Pant Pant… Thankyou and… good bye…