MTLNOVEL Chapter 4: More Than a Few Hours
"Hey! That was more than a few hours! More like a day," complained Marshfellow.
I joyfully stated, "The author and I partied like it was 1999. I was like a prince, galavanting about the room for all to witness my stunningly impressive aesthetic as the disharmonies of grunge and hip-hop flooded the air; it was most wondrous."
"You could've just said 'you and your crew were swaggin' through the room'," Marshfellow replied.
"Why, I never!" I rebuked. "How dare you sully such a classy affair with horrendous lyrics!"
Marshfellow calmly stated, "Well, fair point, but the nineties weren't that cool either."
I shouted, "Why, I ought to-"
"Please simmer down. We would like to continue meditating, please. Please and thank you," loudly whispered Meditation Bob; he was a meditation slob.
"What the heck is a meditation slob?!" Marshfellow angrily grilled. "And why are we still meditating?"
I answered, "You know it has only been a few hours in story, so that is enough about that."
"And a meditation slob is an individual who meditates so much, that said individual does not take care of themself, if you please," mentioned Meditation Bob.
Marshfellow observed aloud, "That's what that smell is."
"Please bring your voice lower. Also, neither of the decades you two mentioned are or were ever fire, if you please. Modern music is the best, please understand," Meditation Bob mumbled.
"That is an outrageous claim!" I blasted.
Meditation Bob ferociously muffled, "Please keep it down!"
I yelled, "But the things you say are so infuriating! It is tantamount to blasphemy!"
"Ugh, it's too loud in here to meditate. I'm going home," said somebody we do not care about almost at all.
"Please, I'm so sorry," sullenly swallowing tears did Meditation Bob. "YOU TWO! Let's collide, please," he challenged, now wearing a wicked smile.
"Okay. Was wondering 'bout my next bout," replied Marshfellow.
I reiterated, "We are not doing the ''bout' thing anymore."
"Dang. Was hoping you forgot," Marshfellow sighed.
"Marshmallow, please!" boomed Meditation Bob. "Let's. Go. Now!"
"Hold on. I wanna get one last free refill," Marshfellow non-chalantly spoke.
Meditation Bob peacefully stated, "Okay."
"Wow. You meditative types shift moods quickly. Y'all need this stuff badly!" shamelessly remarked Marshfellow... in a room of meditators.
"Kick that marshmallow's... bottom part; whatever it's called!" shrieked some meditation lady.
Another meditator said, "Yeah! Roast that marshmallow!"
Meditation Bob peacefully stated, "Okay."
"Now you have done it, Marshfellow," I seethed. "You just refuse to keep your mouth shut, do you not?"
"I'm a marshmallow. I don't have a mouth," Marshfellow replied matter-of-factly.
"You are anthropomorphic!" exploded I. "How else could you be talking?"
"Hey, you fell for the lack of sleeves thing two chapters ago," Marshfellow scoffed.
I openly assumed, "So you did cheat."
"Nope," Marshfellow snidely remarked, "I'm merely saying that I could wear sleeves if I wanted to do so. Since that'd be against the rules, I didn't."
"Can we please collide now?" Meditation Bob asked impatiently.
We headed to the arena. Reader, we ask you to bear with this story. You see, the teleportation device used to get to Meditation Bob's way too overly humble abode broke in the process. It will take years to travel that many distances. If you cannot make time to wait for that, we apologize.
Marshfellow groaned, "Finally. We're here."
"I'm going to please launch this marshmallow to the moon!" screamed Meditation Bob.
"Cloud," Marshfellow said condescendingly. "At least your trying to talk trash."
"You will join Halloon, please," spat Meditation Bob.
"Let's get rrrready to rrrrumblllle!" I said with a copyright. "Collide!"
Meditation Bob screeched, "Charge!"
"Hold on. Let me take my shoes off," Marshfellow requested.
Meditation Bob peacefully stated, "Okay."
"Haha! I'm not wearing any shoes. I'm a marshmallow," chuckled Marshfellow.
"You are also anthropomorphic!" I cried. "Begin! Now!"
"With pleasure, please!" Meditation Bob said with a devious grin.
Marshfellow quietly remarked, "Creepy..."
"Wait a minute," I verbally pondered, "We all know that the cloud has a higher gravitational pull than the arena which is why ricocheting off of one's opponent is so strategic. How Meditation Bob, who is not only a meditation slob, but also a human weirdly enough in a world rampant with anthropomorphicism and thus literally more massive than all competitors in the entire history of the sport, has not lost already makes no sense."
Meditation Bob replied, "Announcer, please. My meditative powers are unmatched; test them as you please."
"Okay!" Marshfellow happily accepted.
Marshfellow dove at Meditation Bob who had just formed a lotus pose. Just as an impact would have been made, Meditation Bob shot into the air with the fervor of a shooting star; going in reverse, of course.
Meditation Bob proudly, yet politely, commanded, "Please allow me to show you my Levitation Meditation Demonstration."
"Oh, no. It rhymes..." whimpered Marshfellow.
Meditation Bob flew upward a great distance, quickly made a 180º turn, and shouldered Marshfellow three times in rapid succession without breaking his stance. Marshfellow had never undergone a concussion of this intensity in his life.
"Wait a... an hour... at this rate..." begged Marshfellow.
Meditation Bob peacefully stated, "Okay."
"Wow, really?" Marshfellow heaved both dazed and surprised. "You must be one of... those people pleaser types, huh?"
"Please do not say that! Whatever those witches told you are lies, please!" squealed Meditation Bob.
Marshfellow, still catching his breath, exhaled, "Okay. But if you don't mind, could you do me a favor and say that you are a people pleaser?"
Meditation Bob peacefully stated, "Okay. I am a people pleaser."
Marshfellow flamboyantly yelled, "Called it!"
"Hey! Please, I only said that meaninglessly because you requested it!" angrily rebutted Meditation Bob.
"Okay," Marshfellow smirked, "but if you could do me another favor. Just go up and touch that cloud."
Meditation Bob peacefully stated, "Okay," and obediently fulfilled the request.
"Yes! I'm the greatest!" Marshfellow triumphantly cried.
"Does this guy even know how to properly have a collision match?" I thought to myself.
"Three cheers for me! How 'bout it?" Marshfellow cheerily cheered and requested cheerfully from a cheerleader observing the cheerless match.
"You ain't even gettin' one," she scoffed.
The rest of people who witnessed the match began morosely emptying the stands in droves until Marshfellow said, "Anybody who cheers for me can split $5 amongst the rest who do the same."
"Hip-hip, hooray for Marshfellow!" everybody rejoiced three times in a row accompanied with a wave formation each time.
What a cheap crowd.
"Instead of criticizing this crowd and claiming me to be somebody you don't care about, how about you arrange his next match with me?" demanded somebody we should probably care about now.
How are you people even able to hear the narration?
"Bring it on, lady!" Marshfellow challenged. "I'm the softest there is!"
She snapped back, "You've got the hardest head there is! I'm gonna show you how to really collide!"
About time.
"Shut up, narrator! I can't lose. I'm a marshmallow," said the most idiotic character ever narrated to one of the most handsome characters to ever narrate.
"You got one day before I pulverize your sugars all over that cloud!" threatened the character we still haven't described yet for some reason.
Marshfellow exclaimed, "It's on like a hot chocolate death trap!"
"You're gonna wish you were in a hot chocolate death trap when I'm done with you!" she scowled.
How is hot chocolate even a death trap?
Marshfellow simply said, "I'm a marshmallow."
"But you are anthropom- oh, right. That has nothing to do with it," I corrected. "Uh, can we hurry to the next chapter so we can forget this blunder? Heh, heh. Uh, yeah. Hurry up, author."