He walked, study and firm, the ground beneath him rolling away under his foot. He enjoyed the pace he walked at, and the azure sky that was falling to the peaceful night made a great site for him to see. He honestly was having a good end to his day. He put a little pep in his step as he walked, and the lazy but bright smile that was on his face let the world know that he was generally in a good mood. One thing that was weird to him was that he was managing to walk this road with his eyes closed, but that didn't bother him too much, just one of the obscurities that he would forever be plagued with. It went right along with Tomato TomAto, Cuthcheup, and Ketchup. Yes, today was a good day, and then he heard he/she/it decided to start a conversation.
You know to the average person you might seem like a slow child walking to go to the special class.
"You know I have half a mind to sell you."
Go ahead and try it, remember the last time you tried to push me off on someone?"
"Actually I try to forget that."
He could only swear as he looked at his right hand that if a spear could smile, this one would be teething its grin would be so huge. A little sign escaped his lips as the slightly weary smile become more than just slight. And to think, most people said he had an offending sense of humor. The story was a rich one indeed. He had first ran into this piece of junk when he had been digging through some random place out in the Valley of Des, lo and behold, his bad luck presented him with a beautifully crafted spear. It's weight and balance were just perfect, and the grip on it was surreal, not to mention the fact the he himself was well accustomed to short spears, such as this one. I had seemed a blessing from heaven, until he began to walk away from the dig site with it.
About an hour later, he begins to hear what sounds like an army of people talking at once. Looking around, he had checked to see if there was any such said army, but he was confused to find that there was no such army. With a small thought, a slight "Strange" and a little time for wonder, he continued on his way out of the Valley and into the more inhabited parts of the world. It was then that he received his first realization. He had gotten a little tired and unknowingly started dragging the poor thing, and when a very sharp, "Hey you idiot, that part takes a long time to get clean!" resounded through his head, he looked around in complete shock. He couldn't have mistaken it, that voice had sounded as if it had been right in his ear. The next thing that happened caused him to have a shocked look, the voice came again, except more rude, and with a whiplash tongue. "Hey, you, yeah you, retard holding me as if he doesn't know how to hold a stick, yes you, see, ah there you go, nice to meet you."
He had looked down, and couldn't believe what he was hearing, or seeing. Well, there wasn't much to see, but there was a crap load to hear. Off hand comments about everything about him were being loosed from the thing. Everything from how he had dirt on his left cheek, to how the shirt he was wearing looked stupid with the shoes he had chosen, not to mention he own deaf sense of how bedhead was not a style. Thinking what any sane person would think in an insane situation such as this, he ran to town and sought help. The local healer checked him for a fever, cough, sore throat, and even an early midlife crisis to try to explain his claim that he was hearing a very rude and slightly annoying hunk of metal. ("CARBON! how dare you call me metal!") Thinking he had gone a little insane he asked the healer--who also acted as the psychiatrist--to take the thing of his hands, and went upstairs. Since he didn't live anywhere near here, he was spending the night in the hotel upstairs from the healers place.
All night he listened to the rambling, singing (it was horribly off key) and mocking of the thing. He had tried everything, and had been near ready to put candle wax in his ears (the cotton didn't do a very good job). Finally, when it had gotten down to the thing talking about how his parents must have been inbred, and how his grandparents had to have been fond of dogs, he couldn't take it anymore.
He had been only slightly surprised when a very loud, and very rude NO! had been the response. The resulting incident would end with him being banned from the town, and named a complete psychopath by the people of said town. unable to handle anymore of the insults, annoying banter, and all round bad manners, he rushed down the stairs, grabbed the bloody spear, and went to the local forge. However, the thing would not take a hint, its endless barrage of talking didn't slow one bit. When the forge fire was lit, the owner of said forge made an appearance. After a slight struggle, and a bruised face, he was escorted back to the healer, along with the laughing spear, and tied down to a chair. The following conversations remained one of his worst memories, and he still wasn't able to remember all of them.
The end result had been that he, the spear, and any other equipment he had brought into town, was thrown out, and guarded against. Walking away, the first reasonable thing the spear had ever said came out of it:
You'd think they would believe you.
All he could do was laugh, cry, and accept the fact that he now had a talking spear. A wonderful companion as it turned out...not.
I still can't believe you threatened to melt me.
"Who ever said anything about a threat, if that Smith had not shown up, you'd be a very nice looking pile of carbon puddle."
Which is why I still remember the first thing I ever heard from his lips: "ARE YOU A MADMAN!" Sweet, sweet music."
"I still haven't forgiven you for that.
Well aren't we a Mr. Sensitive? Can't really blame me though, I hadn't talked, and actually had someone listen in a near eternity.[/b]
"And most likely with good reason."
I love you too.
"It's the only reason I keep you around."
Opening his eyes to let the green orbs within them consult the sky, he noted that the azure beauty that had been was now a dark sky, with little lights. His smile had returned with the memory, and he had continued walking. He had a good life, and he loved it. Yes, things were sure enjoyable to him, even if he/she/it did have a huge mouth, life wouldn't be the same without it.
"I thought we had a promise!"
That promise only applies from Monday to Friday, weekends are off days, and I get my freedom.
"But it's still Friday!"
Friday night is considered part of the weekend. Check the contract.
"You're lucky I consider you a friend."
Anyone is free to join.