Adonis -- An Ode to Charlie Sheen

For my Creative Writing class. X3

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Adonis

Once upon a time in the land of Odd, there lived a man named Charlie Sheen, a man with tiger blood. With his army of warlocks and machetes to spare, he terrorized Odd with his own brand of sick humor. No one thought he was funny, but they laughed anyway, wary of his wrath and a retaliatory doomsday. For Charlie Sheen was no ordinary man, and could do things no other man can. He won and he won, and won some more, until one day a young resident of Odd decided she was done with his fun. 

She neither snorted nor smiled, chuckled or chortled, and found none of his jokes humorous -- only sordid. The citizens of Odd were baffled by her strength. They had never rebelled or revolted, or even not laughed, and they could not understand how she could go to such lengths. Charlie Sheen’s rule -- as King of Odd -- had only one rule: that everyone laugh, and laugh, and laugh, or else he’d force them to write their own epitaphs. He launched daily stand-ups and made people listen, and with pasted-on smiles, they’d watch and they’d wonder if their lives were worthwhile. 

But this one little girl with a heart of stone didn’t care if she was all alone, or no longer an unknown. Her insubordination launched her right into the limelight, but she wasn’t going to give in to his demands without a fight. Charlie Sheen himself found her one day while she was walking to school, and before she could even say “Hey,” he raised up his hand and dared her to disobey. 

“Little girl, little girl!” he started, glaring and snarling with none of his usual fun. “You droopy, armless child, don’t make me go wild! Don’t you know the penalty for staying silent? Are you a fool or a troll? Do I need to get violent?” 

Lips pursed in a frown, the girl didn’t falter, and stared him down with all her might. “Mr. Sheen, Mr. Sheen,” she parroted back, totally unfazed by his holier-than-thou smack. “You can primp and you can preen, you can sneak and you can scheme, but when I look through my eyes, I can see that you are not a funny guy. You’re mean, you’re mean, Mr. Sheen. And I’m sick of your lies.”

This took him aback, and his haughty façade disappeared in a snap. He stared for a moment, awed and amazed, then stepped backwards with a downward gaze. 

“You don’t understand humor, not even one bit!” the girl wasn’t done -- she hadn’t yet won. “Now sit and listen, you overgrown tumor: you’ve overstayed your welcome and you’ve overstepped your bounds. Get out of this land! The people can’t stand you, and neither can I, so pack up your bags and say goodbye!”

 And Charlie Sheen left the land of Odd that day; dethroned and decrowned, he stood no chance against his subject’s angry rants. And in this way, the land was free, thanks to one girl and her courageous decree.