1535: The Marissa Games – Chapter Seven

Title: The Marissa Games
Author:  Marissa the Writer
Media: Books/Movies/Video Games
Topic: The Hunger Games / Portal / MIB II / Team Fortress / Thomas the Trai- [Fuck it, I’m not adding any more to this list!  – Lyle]  The Kitchen Sink
Genre: Not Listed
URL:  Chapter Six
Critiqued by agigabyte and Ghostcat

Cain: Hello, you two. How are you doing?

Ghostie: Grumpy.

Syl: Speak for yourself, peaches. I’m fantastic.

Cain: Both of these things sadden me. Regardless, Agent [GREY] should be showing up with Tea and Scones soon enough.

Syl: And pie?

Agent [GREY]: You called, good chaps? And Syl?

Ghostie: I’m not a chap!

Agent [GREY]: I could have sworn that was the one. My twenty-first century counterparts have such confusing slang.

Cain: Don’t worry, Agent. You’ll be a good English stereotype some day.

Syl: You can unsticky my wicket any time.

Agent [GREY]: Are you talking to my dear Admiral or myself?

Syl: Yes.

Ghostie: :facepalms:

Agent [GREY]: I feel obliged to point out that-

Cain: She’s going to capitalize on your orientation, you know.

*Agent [GREY] hums mysteriously*

Agent [GREY]: Good point.

Ghostie: :looks around: Do you have, like, a spray bottle or something? That works when my cats misbehave.

Agent [GREY]: Sure.

*He summons a spray bottle filled with Versai Lavender tea*

Ghostie: Sweet! :grabs bottle: Vengeance will be mine!

Syl: Oh, hell.

*Bowls of Popcorn appear on tables that suddenly already existed next to Ghostie, Agent [GREY], Cain*

Syl: Oooh, is there going to be sex!?!?

Cain: In the form of Marissa stopping it before anything happens and yelling that we’re pervs, yes.

Syl: The Sorority of Smut isn’t going to be happy about this.

Cain: I find it hard to believe that even the Parliament of Perversion would enjoy what would happen if Marissa wrote a lemon scene.

Syl: :giggles: You said “hard”.

*Cain sighs in annoyance*

Ghostie: :facepalms:

Cain: Maybe we should start?

Ghostie: Please.

AMES
MarrissaTheWriter (InsaneGuyOfDOOM)

Ghostie: Who is Ames? Or AMES?

Cain: Probably related to Frak13 and FrankFifeteen.

Ghostie: Thanks, that really clarifies things.

Chapter 8: PUNCH DRUNK MILLONARE

This cahpt is gon be kinna sort, becos its just to moe the story forward to the REEL AKSHUN of

Not a Verb Counter: 601

Cain: Not sure what’s going on here, but at least it’s decipherable. Ish.

Ghostie: Well, “moe” comes from the Japanese verb moeru – to burn – so I say we set fire to the fic.

Agent [GREY]: I can provide a malfunctioning stove on top of which tea is being boiled in order to set fire to the fic.

Syl: What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned flamethrower? I just happen to know a cozy little munitions dump that’s relatively lightly guarded.

*Agent [GREY] sighs, saddened*

:Ghostie: :spritzes Syl with tea: No! Bad minion!

Agent [GREY]: That works, too.

Syl: :hisses:

THE MARRISSA GAMES

CHAPTER SICKS:

Cain: Yes, reading this will likely make one sick.

Ghostie: Specifically from alcohol poisoning, if you decide to play the drinking game.

PUNCH DRUNK MILLONARE (This one dont make much sins, but I thot it sonded cool)

Not a Verb Counter: 602

Syl: Not making much sin? Where’s the fun in that?

Cain: Perhaps she means the other kind of sin, though that’s a straight up lie.

Syl: I’m well-versed in all kinds of sin, kitten.

Aftar the kill attempt Effy gagged Tomas

Cain: Wasn’t he destroyed?

Agent [GREY]: Also, isn’t he a train? How does one gag a train?

Ghostie: An anthropomorphic train; he does have a face and a mouth so I guess he could be gagged. In theory. You’d need a damned big gag, though. Not sure where Effie would be hiding that.

so he cudant make cusses at me any more becos thats just not rite to do to sum one spessaly a girl.

Ghostie: You can’t curse in front of girls? The hell you say!

Teen Fortress 2 bunked in a the backs rows wile me n Prim an Peeta Peeta Sandwich eata was sittin in my trane car tryin a think of how Tomas would go evil lick that.

Syl: Ah, the constant licking of things. I didn’t miss that very much.

Agent [GREY]: Mildly out of character for you, lass. That’s the right word this time, correct?

Syl: Aye, ‘tis. I dislike one-trick ponies; variety is the spice of life.

Agent [GREY]: John and I can respect that.

I used my super detetive power an relized that it cud only be done by sience powers hackin him!

Not a Verb Counter: 604

Ghostie: The science powers hacked a train. Did we cover how stupid that was last time?

Cain: No, probably because we were ignoring the possibility until it was explicitly stated. Also, wasn’t that one two riffs ago? Pretty sure the last one had J and K.

Agent [GREY]: Yes. I was there for that one.

Ghostie: They blur together after a while. Probably a combination of head trauma and alcohol.

But hoo cud done that? Wheatly was not heer an my hubby an GLaDOS wsa dead fourever an reel now.

Cain: When did Wheatley die?

Agent [GREY]: Around the same time that became redundant.

*Alarms blare and DuFresne appears, sighs, then disappears*

Ghostie: Well, it just says that Wheatley isn’t there and that her husband and GLADoS are dead. Maybe she’s a polyandrist.

Agent [GREY]: This fic could be read that way. Probably very easily, if you’re a certain trader.

Syl: :grabs Ghostie’s bottle and spritzes Agent [GREY] with tea:

*The tea bounces off onto the floor*

Agent [GREY]: Some of us think through our powers and being immune to them.

Ghostie: :grabs bottle back from Syl: Give me that!

Maybe it wass……..

“OMG WER HEER!!1” Girlyed Prim

Not a Verb Counter: 605

*Cain flinches*

Cain: The fuck?

Ghostie: On behalf of my gender, I feel insulted.

Cain: On behalf of your gender, I also feel insulted.

an I lost mah trane of thot

Syl: You just gagged your train, dear. Try to keep up.

*Cain snerks*

but I didant care becos I looked ot the windo an saw we as at……… the Captial!

Ghostie: They’re at the where now?

Cain: Likely somewhere in Prakstiken.

Syl: I thought that Prakstiken was an ointment for that embarrassing rash Ghostie gets?

:Syl is spritzed with copious amounts of tea:

It was soo cool owt there, with lots of flyin bildins an peepel that were green an wearin no thing or funny cloths (sumtimes both)

Not a Verb Counter: 608

*Alarms blare, different from the ones that signify the DRD, and several new Agents appear outside the ship in the Riffing room*

Ghostie: What now?

Cain: These guys. I was really hoping they’d stick to messing with Batjamags and a few others, whom they’d remain with.

*Alarms blare and DuFresne appears in a onesie, sees what’s going on, and quickly headshots all of the enemy agents in the head very quickly*

DuFresne: Fuck. You. Cain.

Syl: Cute onesie. I didn’t know they made Rainbow Brite jammies in your size.

*DuFresne disappears*

*Agent [GREY] makes another tea spray bottle and spritzes Syl with it*

Syl: :hisses:

all the gurls had brest implants an all the guys haded there balls replased with steel lick Rat Man becos hes a trend setter.

Not a Verb Counter: 609

Ghostie: Giant metal testicles are a trend now?

Cain: Makes about as much sense as Thomas coming back to life. Or the very fact that Ratman became a trendsetter.

There was a big thing with lots off angry fases they must be Critaks United!

Ghostie: That’s right, drag that Dead Horse out for a few more whacks.

Cain: Actually, I’m pretty sure they’re the main antagonists in this one.

Syl: How can you tell?

Agent [GREY]: The author tract against them all the time.

Also I saw tonnes of ffod lick baguls an bannas an bred an duck soop an soda an cokies an spaggety an drinks an biskuts an capn crusnsh (penut butter flaver)

Ghostie: That’s the strangest buffet I’ve ever heard of, and I’ve been to Vegas twice.

Syl: And still no pie. No one ever remembers the pie.

(Rest in peace, Syl. Never did get that damn pie she wanted. -Monitor)

an a river of chocklate like in Willy Wanker an the Cocolate Factry an sawsage an milk an goos an pigs an all the food.

Syl: :giggles: “Wanker”.

*Cain sighs in annoyance*

Ghostie: :spritzes Syl with more tea: She wouldn’t think it was all that funny if she had sat through all that “Britishing” crap Wheatley spouted in earlier fics.

“Thees jerks keep alls the food wile we cant eat nothin but grabage but we cannt even do that now becos Katnise contantinated it with her DIARHEAPOO!.1.1!!!” Peeta Peeta Sandwich Eata sand with angry.

Not a Verb Counter: 613

Ghostie: Ewww.

The trane stoped so hard an fast

Syl: Oh, baby. You know how I like it.

Ghostie and Agent [GREY]: :spritzes Syl with tea:

that Peeta Peeto

Cain: I have questions.

Ghostie: I think we’re better off not knowing.

Sandwich Eatr felled an landed on Prim an they was all bushy  an Haymath an Bissniss Man came lolling into the room.

Not a Verb Counter: 614

Ghostie: Lolling, lolling, lolling, keep them doggies lolling, get them doggies moving, RAWHIDE! :cracks whip:

Cain: I’m afraid I don’t get that one. Syl, you hack her computer regularly. Do you know?

:Syl: :rubs ears: I think she just wanted an excuse to use the whip.

Ghostie: :sighs: No one appreciates the classics anymore. :digs through files:

“Enuff funny stuffs. Yur gonna meet the otter tributs soon so ull need to look yur best.” Haymitch coached. “Bissness Man will haf to make u more hot an pretty than ever befour.”

Cain: That’ll be har- difficult, given that they’re Sues.

Syl: Damn it all.

He taked us to the salloon from befour an got workin wile Haymatch an Effie did stuff.

Not a Verb Counter: 615

Ghostie: They did stuff, with the things.

*Syl fans herself*

It wase tuff work makin us even MORE hot an pretty.

Not a Verb Counter: 616

Ghostie: We’re not going to be attacked by the DRD, are we? That shouldn’t count.

*DuFresne appears and clears his throat, still in a onesie*

DuFresne: That depends.

Syl: :wolf-whistles:

Bissness Man put boob jobs an butt jobs in Prim

Cain: I still have many questions. …Not that I want them answered, mind you.

Ghostie: :headdesk: She’s a little kid! Why are they giving her multiple boob and butt jobs?

Syl: Well, you want both sides to match, don’t you?

an gave Peeta Peeta Sadnwich Eata a plastik sergery to give them the strongful mussels an a chin but.

Cain: I don’t think I need to say it.

Ghostie: A chin butt? Like a cleft chin?

Syl: I like strongful mussels, but only with lemon butter and a touch of garlic.

“Im sorry Marrissa but I cant do anythin more to u but heers sum cloths.”

Cain: I’d question what she’ll do with them, but she can probably turn them into clothes instantly.

Ghostie: She can use her science powers, or whatever the hell she calls them now. Because SCIENCE!

Looked ike I was to hot an pretty for a upgrad so I wood have to wow em with cloths an personality insted.

Cain: She’s still not wearing clothes, and she’s a Sue. She doesn’t need personality.

Syl: Which is good, because she doesn’t have one.

We went side were Effey an a charot was waitin. “Prim an Peeta Peeta Sandiwch Eata u must hold hands to let the pepole no of yur tru fitin spirts.”

Not a Verb Counter: 617

Cain:  Even more questions.

Ghostie: Are they ghosts now? Because the Library only has room for one.

Syl: THERE CAN BE ONLY…:is spritzed with tea:

She capitaled. Prim an Peeta PEETA Sandwich Eata got bloodshed but did anyay.

Not a Verb Counter: 618

(This is me right now. -Monitor)

I got on the charot wearin a funny dress that was all blak thinkin maybe Bissness Man had craked form the pressure becos this dress is soo stupid!2 But the charot started movin an……

Not a Verb Counter: 622

Cain: Charot means chariot. I think.

Ghostie: And the closest thing we get to wardrobe porn is “the dress is stupid” – which is a good reflection of the fic, now that I think about it.

“Hey evedbody!” A man of tall an thin with funny beerd and fancy yelled lowd. “I am Sesenal Crane an Im the King of the HUNGERS GAMES!!!” He said with a crown on his head.

(RIP canon. 2008-2016. Press F to pay respects. -Monitor)

Ghostie: A fancy what?

“Now lets meet are tributs!@@!!!” The charots came into a big plase with lots of cheerin capitals.

Not a Verb Counter: 623

Cain: “Cheerin capitals.” Okay, then. The entire city and all its clones are cheering.

Ghostie: No, I think it’s all the misplaced capital letters from the fic. They’ve become sentient and decided to join in.

Most were flamzer trolls workin fer Critacs Untied an wearin those creepy Guy masks. I looked into of the otter charots an saw that the otter

Not a Verb Counter: 624

otter

Syl: Awww…

triboots was…… THE RIGINAL FALMTER TROLLZ!@!!(*)!()*!)!!!!

Cain: The massive punctuation failures are back.

Ghostie: I think the author just fell asleep on the keyboard, they must be as bored as the audience is.

TO BE CONTINUED

Ghostie: DAMMIT!

OH NO FLAMERS TROLLS ARE BAK AN TO FITE MARRISSER? AN WATS WITH THAT UGULY CLOTHS BISSNESS MAN MADE ME WERE? FIND OUT SOON!!

Not a Verb Counter: 625

Cain: She even used the word “me”.

Ghostie: As if there was ever a doubt Marissa was a SI Sue.

Cain: Also, where did it say they were going to fight her? I mean, they are FLAMER TROLLS, but it was still never stated.

Syl: I vote for a steel cage deathmatch, rubber chickens at ten paces.

*Agent [GREY] wakes up and reads over the rest of the chapter, yawning*

Agent [GREY]: This chapter was a lot more nothing than even its predecessors. That’s a *Yawns* record.

Ghostie: Even by Library standards, which are so low you need a shovel to find them, this was a whole lot of nothing. But at least it was short.

Cain: Well, this was… I would say “fun” but that’s a blatant lie. I guess we’ll see you guys next time.

Syl: :blows kisses to audience: Toodles!

*Cain sighs*

Cain: Get off my ship.

Syl: :giggles: You said “get off”.

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12 Comments on “1535: The Marissa Games – Chapter Seven”

  1. AdmiralSakai says:

    an I lost mah trane of thot

    Do I even want to know?

  2. cuisinart8 says:

    Oh my God. It’s been a while since I checked in here, so I’m new to this particular riff. This is…unspeakably bad. Please, please tell me it’s a troll fic. PLEASE.

  3. BatJamags says:

    Cain: These guys. I was really hoping they’d stick to messing with Batjamags and a few others, whom they’d remain with.

    Ah, the DCB/DCA. I’ll have a chat with them and leave them alone.

  4. BatJamags says:

    duck soop

    You leave the Marx Brothers out of this!

  5. BatJamags says:

    Ghostie: :sighs: No one appreciates the classics anymore. :digs through files:

    Alternative:

    Yeah, I just wanted to use a Blues Brothers clip. What of it?


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