The Awesome Tales of Awesomeness Read online

The Awesome Tales of Awesomeness

  By: S. Miles

  Copyright 2012 S. Miles

  This book is dedicated to my family. I would like to thank my whole family for all of the loving care and support they give me.

  Story one: The Dude: Once upon a time, there was a dude. And he lived happily ever after. The end.

  Story Two: The Dude (continued): Once upon a time, there was a story of a dude and the story was rather short and unspecific. So I shall elaborate. This dude had a hat. It was a very nice hat! I think I’ve been specific enough! Too specific, perhaps. Mission accomplished. And this dude, along with his very specific hat, lived happily ever after. With his cat, as well. But I’ve given away too much! The end.

  Story Three: Once Upon a Time: Once upon a time, …wait. Hold up! I just realized something. What does ‘once upon a time’ even mean? Everyone knows of this classic phrase, but does anyone actually interpret it? Perhaps I, word by word, can interpret this odd saying?

  Once. Apparently, all of the tales that begin this way are only to happen once. Why not twice? I don’t know. I suppose that would be ‘twice upon a time,’ which doesn’t have that… pizzazz to it. I see why they chose ‘once’ instead. Or maybe it’s not even about time. Maybe there is a man named Once that does something?

  Upon. Maybe, at the beginning of every story, the man named Once sits upon something. Perhaps it’s like a ritual? Before any crazy, fantastic tale can happen, Once has to sit on something. Or, if we are to go with my numeral-based theory, it could be different! If we go along with this, someone must have figured out how to take the adverb ‘once’ and give it physical form, so it can sit upon something. Either way you want to think, someone’s got to sit on something. How… exciting. Yay.

  A. Curious, indeed, how they seemingly randomly include the first letter of our beautiful alphabet in this strange phrase! From the looks of it, Once the man sits on letters, particularly the letter ‘a’. Is it considerable as an unhealthy tendency to have an obsession with sitting upon letters of the English alphabet prior to the telling of a tale? I think that Sir Once has some problems! He is strange, indeed. Or perhaps you again like to favor the possibility of the adverb ‘once’ taking physical form and suffering from the same unhealthy tendencies as Mr. Once? Perhaps all adverbs that take physical form enjoy sitting upon letters, specifically the first letter of our dear alphabet? But wouldn’t the letter ‘A’ be uncomfortable to sit on in the first case? The point on a capital ‘A’ is likely to be most uncomfortable to sit upon. Hm. Curious, indeed it is.

  Time. Ah, so we are getting a bit more specific now! Mr. Once does not sit on letters at all! The ‘a’ was just grammatically setting the stage for the word ‘time!’ So, Once sits upon times. Is it a specific time? Maybe just a vague hour, like two o’clock? Or something extremely specific? 2:16 p.m., for example. That brings up another question! Does this man who is called Once sit on a time in the morning or afternoon and evening time? A.M. or P.M.? Or on a completely different note, perhaps this Once has given the essence of time physical form and sits upon it? Or this could all be a silly metaphor, and Once sits upon a clock to simply symbolize time? Maybe ‘once’ the physical adverb does the same?

  What a strange phrase, indeed! I have spent an outrageous amount of time debating four simple words, and I’m still uncertain! I suppose that the true meaning of this mysterious little phrase shall remain, well, a mystery! 

  Story Four: Me vs. A Dragon: Once upon a time, there was a girl named S. Miles. Wait, why? Why am I in a story I’m writing? I don’t get it. Anyways, I suppose I have no choice but to move on. This woman was a princess. (So far, I like this story!) Unfortunately, a vicious dragon came into town. Equally unfortunately, Princess Miles was appointed to slay this deadly, evil… fire-breathing… um, myself? There’s a small problem. I’m going to end up dying due to my own writing. Oh dear. This is not good at all! But I have to keep writing what I think of! Whatever I come up with, I will write. But…! No butts or gluteus maximi of any kind! Now shut up and listen, myself. And, um, write. You can do that, too.

  Where was I? Oh, yes. Princess Miles ventured to the lair of this evil dragon. But this cave was far away, and she ran out of food supply and almost starved. Not giving up, she continued walking in the hot, dry, uninhabited, lonely, awful desert. Did it have to be that painful? No. But it was funny! I’m inflicting pain on myself. I’m going to have some choice words with this creative genius of mine after this story!

  Finally, she was able to drag herself to the dragon’s cave. She knocked on the huge wooden doors of his home. On the doorstep, the doormat read ‘LAIR SWEET LAIR.” Princess Miles waited and waited, but there was no answer. The dragon wasn’t even home! So S. Miles lay there, helpless, before the dragon’s cave, and waited for his return. The stinging, scorching sun tanned her, which was very nice. But then she got burned badly. Third degree burn, too. Ouch.

  And then guess who finally showed up? The dragon. “Listen here, dragon dude! I’m here to slay you. But before I do that, I gotta file in a complaint here! I just sat on your stinkin’ doorstep for, like, three stupid hours, and I got pretty darn burned! Check out my shoulder. Do you see this? I’m going to get serious skin cancer when I’m older if I live through this, man! I’m risking’ my life for my kingdom, and I gotta wait. Can’t this be quick? Sup with you, dude? Now let’s do this. Alright. I’m ready. Bring it, fire-face!” she complained. The dragon roared, and breathed fire on poor Princess Miles. Her long dress which, in all technicality, she probably shouldn’t have even worn to a battle with a fire breathing dragon, burned up to be four inches above her knee before she could put it out. It was rather uncomfortable to have a burned-up dress on. “Excuse me, Mr.- um- Sir Dragon? This dress is very uncomfortable to fight in. Do you, by any chance, have some spare outfits? Shorts and a tee or something?” she begged. “Inside,” the dragon grunted. He opened the massive door and she trudged inside. While she was changing, the dragon sat patiently outside. “Done yet?” he asked.

  “Nope. Don’t rush!” exclaimed Princess Ann. The dragon sighed. Ten minutes later, she came out, in her change of un-burnt clothes. “Better! Thank you,” she thanked.

  “No prob. Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes. Actually, I take that back. My creative genius is coming up with something! Maybe… I won’t have to kill you!” she exclaims as an idea formulates in her head.

  “You won’t have to kill me? I could’ve killed you first,” points out the dragon.

  “Touché. But that’s not the point! I was told that I needed to eliminate the threat. What if you stop being a threat?” responds Princess Miles.

  “I will have you know that I very much like raiding your village! And anyways, being a threat is fun!” argues the dragon.

  “Have you ever thought of using your fire breath for good? Like… chicken? How hot is that little torch of yours, Scaly?” she asks.

  “Pretty hot. And don’t call me Scaly,” growls the dragon.

  “Whatevs, Scalester. How about you open up a little fried chicken joint in town, eh? You could call it… I don’t know… how about… Dragon Roasted Chicken?” suggests Princess Ann.

  “Stop!!!! Actually… why not? I’ll do it, if you promise to stop with the stupid names!” offers the dragon.

  “Deal!” exclaims Princess Miles.

  “You know what? Your idea isn’t half bad, after all! I’m going to start building my restaurant right away! Thank you!” exclaims the dragon. The massive dragon flaps his giant wings and flies away, across the
long desert, towards the village.

  “You’re welcome! But, um, dragon dude? I could… um… I could use a ride! Don’t… don’t make me hike across the… don’t you leave me here! Don’t you dare…! And… he’s gone,” sighs the princess. She picks up her empty food sack and begins to trudge home across the long, long desert. The end!

  Story Five: The Telling of a Boring Tale: Once upon a time, there was a boy who had to stay with his grandpa for a weekend. His parents were away on a trip. He had been dropped off at eleven o’clock. The day had passed with a lot of games, talking, and fun. Finally, the boy’s bedtime came. As the grandpa tucked his grandson under his covers, the boy refused to go to sleep and insisted he was not tired. All was silent, until the grandpa came up with an idea! “Do you like reading? Tales, stories, and whatnot? I can tell you one, if you like,” offered the grandpa.

  “Sure! Why not?” shrugged the boy.

  “Hmm, let’s see. Once upon a time, there was a man named… Bob. One morning, he woke up to find-” Grandpa began.

  “- that a giant, blue, man eating octopus with fifty tentacles was about to eat him alive!” interrupted the boy.

  “My, you are a feisty little