godluvsgoons

This is a bit of fan fiction I wrote a while back. What do you think?

Imagine you go into the icecream store and over in one corner are 50 tweeners all ordering vanilla icecream. You come back the next day, and they are there again, ordering the same flavor, Vanilla. And the next, and the next. Only they can't just quietly enjoy their own rather dull and one note snack. As other people ask for chocolate or peanut butter, Cherry Garcia or moose tracks, these same tweenies, 50 or so, repeat their tired little monologue over and over:

"Who loves Vanilla?"

"What do you love best about Vanilla?"

"Do you prefer the Cone version of Vanilla or the Cup Version of Vanilla?"

"Do you like the way Vanilla Bean portrays Vanilla in Vanilla Cone?"

"Who thinks Vanilla Bean is so hot?"

"Vanilla vs. Harry Vanilla? Who wins?"

"Where can I buy Vanilla for cheap?"

"Can anyone recommend other Vanillas I can eat that are like Vanilla?"

Which by itself might not be annoying, except that there are so many of them and they are so squeelish and grammatically inept that they begin to scare away other customers who might have come in to challenge their palates with flavors that are deeper, richer, better for the tongue. And the tweenies come back again, and again, and again, until suddenly you realize that they've turned what was once a wonderfull idea for a little community icecream shop, into a Vanilla Cult Love Hut. A monstrosity,which wasn't the original purpose of the icecream store at all. Particularly given that there are literally hundreds and hundreds of Vanilla Cult Love Huts already out there.

Then the thought enters your mind that these Vanilla wafers are actually quite rude in the way they piggishly take over and turn what was really a not so bad idea for a little community ice cream shop into their own public romper room for displaying their illbreeding and poor taste.

Instead of just sitting back you try to explain to them nicely how there's other flavors to choose from to be met with snorts of

"Vanilla good, vanilla sweet, vanilla sexy vanilla everything."

You try using logic. After all, it can't be healthy to eat only one thing.

But you soon drown in a thick gooey sea of

"Vanilla Vanilla Vanilla Vanilla."

And finally you realize that you've got two choices. Let the Vanidgets rule or fight them with the only topping that has the slightest chance of melting through their overly corn-starched little minds. The rasberry. So you give them the royal Plllllllttttt!!!! and the old Bronx cheer.

which causes some misguided yet tender-hearted soul to come along to ask "Why sir are you being so rude to these cute little ones? They're not hurting anybody. What's wrong with Vanilla ice cream?"

So you just go home, and read a good book instead.

[And with that I say adios to YA. Yahoo wants nitwits to ask nitwit questions for nitwits to answer or they'd have put a stop to this crap a looooong time ago. I've got a good job, good wife, good kid and read good books, so what the hell. Viva la revolution!]

This is a bit of fan fiction I wrote a while back. What do you think?

Imagine you go into the icecream store and over in one corner are 50 tweeners all ordering vanilla icecream. You come back the next day, and they are there again, ordering the same flavor, Vanilla. And the next, and the next. Only they can't just quietly enjoy their own rather dull and one note snack. As other people ask for chocolate or peanut butter, Cherry Garcia or moose tracks, these same tweenies, 50 or so, repeat their tired little monologue over and over:

"Who loves Vanilla?"

"What do you love best about Vanilla?"

"Do you prefer the Cone version of Vanilla or the Cup Version of Vanilla?"

"Do you like the way Vanilla Bean portrays Vanilla in Vanilla Cone?"

"Who thinks Vanilla Bean is so hot?"

"Vanilla vs. Harry Vanilla? Who wins?"

"Where can I buy Vanilla for cheap?"

"Can anyone recommend other Vanillas I can eat that are like Vanilla?"

Which by itself might not be annoying, except that there are so many of them and they are so squeelish and grammatically inept that they begin to scare away other customers who might have come in to challenge their palates with flavors that are deeper, richer, better for the tongue. And the tweenies come back again, and again, and again, until suddenly you realize that they've turned what was once a wonderfull idea for a little community icecream shop, into a Vanilla Cult Love Hut. A monstrosity,which wasn't the original purpose of the icecream store at all. Particularly given that there are literally hundreds and hundreds of Vanilla Cult Love Huts already out there.

Then the thought enters your mind that these Vanilla wafers are actually quite rude in the way they piggishly take over and turn what was really a not so bad idea for a little community ice cream shop into their own public romper room for displaying their illbreeding and poor taste.

Instead of just sitting back you try to explain to them nicely how there's other flavors to choose from to be met with snorts of

"Vanilla good, vanilla sweet, vanilla sexy vanilla everything."

You try using logic. After all, it can't be healthy to eat only one thing.

But you soon drown in a thick gooey sea of

"Vanilla Vanilla Vanilla Vanilla."

And finally you realize that you've got two choices. Let the Vanidgets rule or fight them with the only topping that has the slightest chance of melting through their overly corn-starched little minds. The rasberry. So you give them the royal Plllllllttttt!!!! and the old Bronx cheer.

which causes some misguided yet tender-hearted soul to come along to ask "Why sir are you being so rude to these cute little ones? They're not hurting anybody. What's wrong with Vanilla ice cream?"

So you just go home, and read a good book instead.

[And with that I say adios to YA. Yahoo wants nitwits to ask nitwit questions for nitwits to answer or they'd have put a stop to this crap a looooong time ago. I've got a good job, good wife, good kid and read good books, so what the hell. Viva la revolution!]

If John Lennon was indeed correct that "instant Karma gonna get you, gonna slap you in the face" what is the Karmic fate awaiting the squeeky Twilight Tweenies who are killing the YA Books and Authors section day by day, bit by bloody bit? What do these gals have to look forward to out of life? Where do you see average Twidget girl 10 years from now? 20?

what would they be?

and WHY?

for a motor scooter that they didn't give me the title for when I bought it? And what is a certificate of origin anyway?