includes: buckle, streetlights, a shovel. eojicite? 66.

As this story is being told in fifth person, a friend of Bob's cousin's goldfish's best friend told me this story about carl Jacob smith the first, who, following his latest traumatizing encounter with Hawaiian pizzas and a certain naf naf grill, decided to move to hel(l)sinki, bleach his hair blond (even though he was already blond), purchase an assortment of colored contacts, and get plastic surgery in some far-flung sketchy makeup parlor that had no plastic surgery license whatsoever. 

He also changed his name to Gellert grinderwardo-Gama Galker Grescott Gverett Gughes-Gawson Gercival graves Greer Gordon gamsay the twenty-fourth. (He was simply following his sister's distant acquaintance's example...she was named wiodnoi peggy patrick georgia bethann bob, of all things!!!! She must have driven his mother, that one strange woman who kicked him out of her house, insane at the tender age of 18, but continued to nag him incessantly afterwards!) 

It should also be mentioned that in order to better accommodate his new image, he tried to grow a mustache, but failed miserably. Also, he did not succeed in accomplishing grinderwardo-gama's haircut, because his hair was straight as y=mx+b (unlike him. He was....well...it's hard to explain. Let's just say that it largely depended on his sobriety). Alright, a friend of bob's cousin's goldfish's best friend will get to the story now.

As Grinderwardo-gama galker grescott gverett gughes-gawson gercival graves Greer Gordon Gamsay the twenty-fourth was going for his daily stroll, he smacked straight into a streetlight, which he was certain he had never seen before. In fact, he would have known, as he had walked this route approximately 32 times before, each time noticing the utter lack of streetlights on this particular street. Thinking that it was too much of a stretch to say that the Hawaiian pizza-manhandling naf naf grill had found him again, he continued on his walk. 

Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. When he turned around, the streetlight was approximately 2 feet closer to him than it had been before. Chills running down his spine, he walked faster, sweat beginning to form on his Grinderwardo-Gama-Impersonating brow. The footsteps followed him, discreetly at first, but with increasingly less grace until they were fairly thundering, tripping, and banging after him. 

"OW!" tHE STREETLIGHT CURSED as it crashed into a shovel. cARL CONTINUED FLEEING UNTIL HE ABRUPTLY REMEMBERED THAT STREETLIGHTS WERE PHYSICALLY AND BIOLOGICALLY UNABLE TO CURSE. In fact, streetlights had no biology! They were streetlights, for Wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Georgia Bethann Bob's sake! 

As this story is being told in fifth person from the account of a friend of bob's cousin's goldfish's best friend, I like pizza. I am also aware that that has absolutely nothing to do with the story whatsoever, but as I said, I am trying to make this the longest story so far because it is being told in fifth person from the account of a friend of bob's cousin's--*Crash* *Bang* *Ba Dum Tss* "Shut up, Carol!"

The streetlight continued to pursue him. As Carl and the streetlight drew closer to the main street, Carl began to tire and slow down. The Streetlight gained speed, and this time Carl could hear its words. It hardly registered to him now that Streetlights couldn't, or at least shouldn't be able to speak, never mind form coherent english words.

"I still need the batteries for my furbies, dear brother," It cooed in his sister's voice. Oh God, thought carl, and now he truly panicked. Naf Naf Grill's turned her into a...a streetlight?! Heresy! of all things such a diabolical man could have turned her into, a streetlight????!

"TaxI! Taxi!" Carl yelled, throwing his hand out as he slowed. He knew Wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Georgia Bethann Bob would not pursue him in the form of a sentient streetlight into traffic, before he remembered that this was wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Georgia Bethann Bob they were talking about. It suddenly occurred to him that English was probably not many of these people's first language, before he realised that the word for Taxi in English and the word for Taxi in Finnish sounded exactly the same.

A taxi drew to a halt at the shoulder of the road, and Carl jumped in, not bothering to read the name of the taxi company on the taxi's side.

"Hämäläinen Apartments, Please!" He accidentally said in English. "Tarkoitan (I mean)__"

"Oh, je sais où tu vas," said the driver.

Carl was suddenly afraid to look in the rearview mirror. That voice was beginning to sound eerily familiar. "Naf Naf..." No. It was impossible. Carl began to sweat profusely. His seat belt buckle tightened against his waist, and it too began to speak in a voice he had only heard when his sister got married.

"So you are my brother-in-law?" Bob the second's voice spoke. "Maybe you won't leave me like she did of your own accord." The seat belt buckle tightened even more, if that had been possible in the first place. "But I'm not taking any chances. Abandonment runs in your family."

"She came looking for you!" Carl blurted, giving away his identity, but at this point he couldn't care less. "What?" The buckle slackened its viCelike grip. Carl took this chance to unbuckle his shoulder strap, throw the door open, and tuck-and-roll onto the side of the road. He scraped his shoulder and skinned his knees, but at least he was not being suffocated by a possessed seat belt.

It turned out he'd also gotten a bloody nose. He wiped that, confused. He hadn't even hit his face! Suddenly, he realised that the traffic had stopped. The road was completely empty, and in fact all of the street signs and even the road from before had vanished. He was now kneeling on top of a snowy knoll, the warm blood dripping from his nose turning spots of snow scarlet. Looking up, he realised that the blood from his nose was not the only red colour staining the snowy landscape. Something in the distance, something small and furry, lay like a broken doll in a snowdrift.

"Oh my god, it's a dead cat," said Carl sadly. The cat's black fur was mottled with dark blood and grass, its grey eyes staring blindly up at the sky. Carl walked towards the cat, to check that it wasn't just wounded.

As he came nearer, Carl began to realise that the cat was not a cat at all.

It was a furby. A black one, with stripes of green that he once thought was grass and wide, glassy grey eyes. He no longer felt sorry for it.

In the horrified silence that hung over the empty snowscape, Carl heard distant crunching in the distance, which grew louder and louder until they revealed themselves to be footsteps. The furby at Carl's feet began to spin madly, as if it were a compass; red pupils refocusing on carl.

"Play with me. Play with me!" But its voice was no longer cheerily mechanical. Instead, it was terrifyingly human and terrifyingly scared. "Please play with me!"

At that moment, the footsteps behind Carl halted. He turned around, as slowly as he humanly could.

A streetlight, a shovel, and an enlarged seat belt buckle loomed over him.

"Play with us, Carl," said the shovel in Its voice, and poised a hawaiian pizza over Carl's head.

Carl promptly fainted.

"..."

"...L!"

"Carl!"

Carl woke to icy cold mountain dew splashing onto his face. His sister, still human (thank God!), was standing over him, clutching an empty mountain dew bottle. "How does one fall asleep while shovelling the snow?!"

"Shovel?!" Carl screeched, bolting upright. "Where?!"

"More importantly, how did you even--" Wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Georgia Bethann Bob began, but was cut off by Carl. "Never mind, Wiodnoi!" "It's Wiodnoi Peggy Pa--" "Where is the shovel?!"

Wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Georgia Bethann Bob sighed. "iT'S OVER THERE, cARL." Carl scrambled to his feet, grabbed the shovel, and sprinted past Wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Georgia Bethann Bob to the garage. He threw unused toolkits, screwdrivers, and chisels aside, hunting for a shovel. There! Grabbing the shovel, he sprinted back out to the snow before Wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Bethann Bob had even gone ten paces after him. He threw the shovel he had been shovelling with aside and began to frantically dig a shovel-sized hole into the snow. "Where did you get that?" Wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Georgia Bethann Bob asked him, but Carl had no idea what she was talking about. He finished digging the shallow hole and threw the shovel in, shovelling snow over it with the other shovel.

Panting with exertion and fear, Carl slowly picked up the unburied shovel and began to walk back to the house, Wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Georgia Bethann Bob trailing after him. When they were a few yards away from the house, Wiodnoi Peggy Patrick Georgia Bethann Bob finally spoke.

"Carl, I don't have two shovels."