Alphonse's (individual) Adventures
I find Alphonse and his afro adventures exaggerated yet in a funny way. So here it is!
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Alphonse groaned, loosening the tie around his neck. There he was, witnessing his eldest brother's pet burial, Alphonse serving as some sort of priest.
"Well?" demanded Alphonse's brother, who was kneeling at his beloved friend's grave. His eyes were brimming with tears as he glared at Alphonse, expectant.
"Uh, right," coughed Alphonse, suppressing a snicker, "All of us gather here (looks at the burial to his brother and the imaginary mourners) today to celeb-*ahem* I mean mourn the loss of a great friend, a great comrade-"
Before Alphonse could finish his sentence, his brother let out a howl that sounded like the COM ripping off his victim's limbs, kneeling lower to the ground in his grief. Alphonse merely watched his bro's mental breakdown not in knowledge of how to react without bursting out laughing. Pat him on the back for reassurance? Nah, thought Alphonse dismissively. Instead he cleared his throat and continued his obituary sermon, attempting to ignore the wordless gibberish and cries coming from his brother.
"A great comrade we will definitely miss. He was always there when one was in need of great comfort and reassurance. Always the one you could talk to, knowing that he could do no wrong since for all we know, goldfish can't talk and walk like us mere humans. And so for his good, modest heart and... personality, we bless. We hope our fallen comrade.....(Alphonse's brother paused for a moment, sniffling) ascends to wherever fish souls go when they die."
Alphonse dug his hand into his jacket's black pockets and pulled out a bag of 'holy' dust (surprisingly, it was baking flour). Slowly, he opened the bag and sprinkled a handful of the fine powder onto the grave's dirt before stepping back to allow his brother to once more grieve his loss.
"Less we forget, more we remember. Amen. (-"Amen," whispered Alphonse's bro) Let us spare a few moments of silence to reminisce our wonderful times together."
There was a short silence as Alphonse's elder brother stood up, his gaze fixated on his pet's grave. In Alphonse's cynical mind he pondered about how the hell he ended up in such a ludicrous situation. It was only minutes before that Alphonse was enjoying his homemade brownies before the the 'tragic' announcement of the golfish's imminent death was followed by the non-stop wailing of his heartbroken brother.
In all seriousness though, who even cared about the stupid goldfish when it was alive? The last time Alphonse checked, the goldfish had been nothing more than an ornamental tank dweller that hadn't been fed since the day it was bought from some shady marketplace. Its name wasn't even engraved on the memorial rock embedded into the grave. Still, anything remotely named by Alphonse's brother had to be retarded and the rock was spared from ever having to bear the ridiculous titles the name entailed. It was probably Spotty Pie the Great, or Fantana the Scaled One or-argh, who cared, honestly.
If Alphonse was being honest to himself, there wasn't even a buried fish there to begin with! The fish's corpse had been carelessly discarded outside by Alphonse the Undertaker moments before, probably eaten by that crazy stray cat. The whole time that Alphonse had played along this make-believe funeral (unknown to his oblivious brother) there had been nothing there but a heap of freshly turned soil that Alphonse had hastily claimed the resting place of the goldfish.
As Alphonse mind rattled with frustrated rants on how the dead fish had been an utter waste of his time he randomly skimmed through a forgotten mental note settled at the back of his mind: the oven. His brownies!
Alphonse clapped his hand over his forehead, bringing up the ever so emotional brother's confused gaze from the grave.
"What is it?!"
"SHOOT! I left the oven on!"
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Alphonse groaned, loosening the tie around his neck. There he was, witnessing his eldest brother's pet burial, Alphonse serving as some sort of priest.
"Well?" demanded Alphonse's brother, who was kneeling at his beloved friend's grave. His eyes were brimming with tears as he glared at Alphonse, expectant.
"Uh, right," coughed Alphonse, suppressing a snicker, "All of us gather here (looks at the burial to his brother and the imaginary mourners) today to celeb-*ahem* I mean mourn the loss of a great friend, a great comrade-"
Before Alphonse could finish his sentence, his brother let out a howl that sounded like the COM ripping off his victim's limbs, kneeling lower to the ground in his grief. Alphonse merely watched his bro's mental breakdown not in knowledge of how to react without bursting out laughing. Pat him on the back for reassurance? Nah, thought Alphonse dismissively. Instead he cleared his throat and continued his obituary sermon, attempting to ignore the wordless gibberish and cries coming from his brother.
"A great comrade we will definitely miss. He was always there when one was in need of great comfort and reassurance. Always the one you could talk to, knowing that he could do no wrong since for all we know, goldfish can't talk and walk like us mere humans. And so for his good, modest heart and... personality, we bless. We hope our fallen comrade.....(Alphonse's brother paused for a moment, sniffling) ascends to wherever fish souls go when they die."
Alphonse dug his hand into his jacket's black pockets and pulled out a bag of 'holy' dust (surprisingly, it was baking flour). Slowly, he opened the bag and sprinkled a handful of the fine powder onto the grave's dirt before stepping back to allow his brother to once more grieve his loss.
"Less we forget, more we remember. Amen. (-"Amen," whispered Alphonse's bro) Let us spare a few moments of silence to reminisce our wonderful times together."
There was a short silence as Alphonse's elder brother stood up, his gaze fixated on his pet's grave. In Alphonse's cynical mind he pondered about how the hell he ended up in such a ludicrous situation. It was only minutes before that Alphonse was enjoying his homemade brownies before the the 'tragic' announcement of the golfish's imminent death was followed by the non-stop wailing of his heartbroken brother.
In all seriousness though, who even cared about the stupid goldfish when it was alive? The last time Alphonse checked, the goldfish had been nothing more than an ornamental tank dweller that hadn't been fed since the day it was bought from some shady marketplace. Its name wasn't even engraved on the memorial rock embedded into the grave. Still, anything remotely named by Alphonse's brother had to be retarded and the rock was spared from ever having to bear the ridiculous titles the name entailed. It was probably Spotty Pie the Great, or Fantana the Scaled One or-argh, who cared, honestly.
If Alphonse was being honest to himself, there wasn't even a buried fish there to begin with! The fish's corpse had been carelessly discarded outside by Alphonse the Undertaker moments before, probably eaten by that crazy stray cat. The whole time that Alphonse had played along this make-believe funeral (unknown to his oblivious brother) there had been nothing there but a heap of freshly turned soil that Alphonse had hastily claimed the resting place of the goldfish.
As Alphonse mind rattled with frustrated rants on how the dead fish had been an utter waste of his time he randomly skimmed through a forgotten mental note settled at the back of his mind: the oven. His brownies!
Alphonse clapped his hand over his forehead, bringing up the ever so emotional brother's confused gaze from the grave.
"What is it?!"
"SHOOT! I left the oven on!"
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