Author: Mandalorian1428 Note: This story is written in an "annoying" style. It is intentionally poorly written for the reader's entertainment.
Fledge is not a singer. He wanted to sing. He couldn’t sing well, but he wanted to. Saulprene Saltine, his younger sister, didn’t like his singing. Fledge is not a singer. He is not a computer program. He is not a maid. He is not a book font specialist. He is just Fledge Flodge, the pink and yellow loving jockey. His best friends are Bananapam, Carl Udle, Bobby Spaslheimer, Koronells Barrion, and Gremonzette Parparpar. His cousin is Jimik McJimik, an amusement park owner. Fledge called Jimik. Jimik burped while on the phone. He used his mouth to do it (now that’s skill).
“Jimik, is the park ma runnin’?”
“YUP! IT IS!”
“Don’t yell, Jimik!”
“Why do you wear pink and yellow all the time?!”
“I LOVE IT!!!”
“Disturbing…besides…why yo callin’ me?”
“I’m auditioning for American Idol!”
“Good luck with that, Fledge…”
“Don’t quote me without a permit, buddy-bobberton.”
Jimik blinked he forgets to sometimes. He set down the phone, but he didn’t hang up (he thought he had). He said mean things about Fledge. Fledge heard him, and he cried. Jimik went to his amusement park. He felt that he needed to shampoo while on the major drop of his ride, “Medusa’s Crazy Cousin”.
One Week Later…On American Idol…
Fledge, in his pink and yellow, super tight, mega cling jump suit. The pant legs were high on him and were about five inches from his ankles. He entered.
“What is that?” asked Randy Jackson.
“I have no clue.” replied Jennifer Lopez.
“It kinda looks like yours, Randy.” Steven Tyler crunched.
“My name’s Fledge Flodge, and this is my pink and yellow, super tight, mega cling jump suit!”
“What will you be singin’, yo?”
“Friday by Rebecca Black.”
“Wonderful…just wonderful, dawg.”
“Seven PM. Wakin up in the mornin’! Gotta eat flesh. Gotta fall down stairs. Gotta have a roll. Gotta have cereal. Seeing every thing the time is goin. Ticking on and on everybody’s Russian. Gotta get down to the brush stop. Gotta catch a brush. I see my friends. Kickin in the front seat. Driving in the back seat. Gotta make my mind up. Which seat do I hate? It’s Friday! Friday! Gotta like clowns on Friday. Everybody’s looking forward to the screech-in’. Screech-in’. Partyin’ partyin’. YAH!”
“SHUT UP!” called out a random microscopic organism.
“No.” Randy said as he used his eye lasers.
Fledge screamed as he dodged the eye lasers.
“No.” Jennifer said as he used her nose lasers.
Fledge screamed as he dodged the nose lasers.
“No.” Steven said as he used his mouth lasers.
Fledge screamed as he dodged the mouth lasers.
“YAY I WON!”
Fledge walked off. He smelled like butter. He marinates in it but he calls it Margarine and speaks with a Scottish accent when he talks about it. He called Saulprene on a cell phone. It wasn’t his cellphone. It was Bananapam’s. He loved that phone, he did, he did.
“Hey Saulprene, guess how I did.”
“I’ve told you never to ask me that question.”
“I made it.”
“Who said yes?”
“Well…Randy-cakes, Jennifer-cakes, and Steven-cakes!”
At the next round, Fledge was eliminated but he thought he went on. He kept going on and on. He won the finale.
THE END…DON’T ASK THE RECIPE, IT’S A FLODGE FAMILY TRADITION