Object in story: basketball
Simile that must be used: as large as a pumpkin
Random retard word that must be used: vocation
Title of story: Giraffe Plumber's long day
Genre: Comedy

Must include at least 3 characters with one of them saying "Holy smokes, nice chimney!"

Giraffe Plumber’s Long Day

Giraffe Plumber was not essentially a happy man, nor was he an unhappy man. But something deep deep inside of him was constantly astir, restricting him to be merely - a content man. Instead he was an unsure man. Unsure of who or what, how or when. Who or What was constantly disturbing his could-be content life, how it was disturbing him and since when? Neither was he aware of the long day ahead of him that would surely ensure the answers to his unanswered question.

Now unlike Giraffe Plumber’s name may suggest, Giraffe Plumber was not a plumber at all. In fact he disliked plumbers, despised plumbers to a certain extent. He felt that no plumber could possibly live up to the grand name as well as he had all his life. A plumber he was not, however a very very rich man he was.

Being wealthy meant that Giraffe Plumber had no need for any certain vocation. Instead he reduced his life to pleasant meetings and greetings with his many acquaintances. Every Sunday morning at 10:53am Giraffe Plumber’s luxuriously far-reaching gold plated gates were wrenched open, allowing his many friends to enter his grand home. Seeing as it was a Sunday on this very long day and no reason for this not to occur, the entrance to his manor was opened. So, Giraffe Plumber pleasantly sipped on his freshly squeezed orange juice as he watched vehicle after vehicle find their way to the front door.

Steadily, Giraffe Plumber glided down step after step and reached his front door. He paused for a moment, and then dramatically thrust open his front doors.

“Holy Smokes, Nice Chimney, how fare thee today?” he smirked at his two beloved friends. For a moment, Giraffe Plumber’s nagging sensation of emptiness disappeared as he eyed the two beaming men. Not once was there a dull moment with the two. He stepped aside as every man, woman and child entered his home, plopped down on their reserved seats and chattered whilst the maids and cooks scurried around preparing and serving the fresh feast.

A couple of minutes on, scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, crispy bacon and two slices of toast accompanied by a large glass of milk lay in front of each and every one of them, daring them to take a bite, but they all knew they had to wait for Giraffe Plumber to announce the feast’s commencement first. Which he did after a few insufferable seconds. Instantaneously, knives hit plates and the grinding of teeth began.

His gaze wandered from plate to plate, which were noticeably identical even from the few scraps of debris remaining. Finally, his gaze came to a halt at his own plate. His eggs were not scrambled, nor were his tomatoes grilled, his bacon was far from crispy and he had no toast and the idea of milk just horrified him. Moreover, Giraffe Plumber hated scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, crispy bacon, toast and milk. Even though he’d never tried them, he was adamant that not one flavour would appeal to his taste buds at all. Yet, he found himself yearning for the meal he’d never tasted and held his breath as he waved over a maid and informed her of his newfound menu choice.

Everyone watched aghast as the plate passed their heads as though their eyes had never seen something so surprising, all the while the exact same brunch sat in their satisfied stomachs. Giraffe Plumber smiled to himself, proud of his decision for change and slightly amused at the sight of dozens of mouths dangling ajar. He lifted his knife and fork and cautiously brought the eggs to his mouth. The soft fluffy texture illuminated his eyes and soon the plate was licked clean after having its contents devoured.

Conversation buzzed as the tables were cleared and Giraffe Plumber found himself listening to a story about Holy Smokes’ wife. Once upon a time, he would’ve been enthralled with the quirkiness of Smokes’ stories but today’s wife-story seemed so… monotonous. Usually the next few hours would be burned up, listening to stories such as this but today was strangely different. He scanned the room and found himself wandering towards a young girl sitting alone with a befuddled look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he queried. The girl merely frowned and stared up at him with dark blue eyes. Then, as though someone had called her name, she jerked her head to the side and scurried out of the room.

Forgetting Holy Smokes’s tale, Giraffe Plumber curiously trailed her all the way towards his backyard. Suddenly, a basketball sped towards his head, colliding with a resounding thump. The basketball bounced away, leaving a lump as large as a pumpkin sitting on top of Giraffe Plumber’s head. Waving away the stars, he picked up the ball and shot it into the basket that sat a few metres away. He cursed as he remembered that Sunday was not his basketball day, Friday was. After scolding himself, he began to trudge towards his house when he was halted by the deep voice of a very very tall man.

“Oi, dude why don’t ya hang with us?” The man’s voice reverberated inside Giraffe Plumber’s head as he regained his bearings.

‘Hell, why not?’ Giraffe Plumber muttered to himself as he walked towards the court. The next few hours of sweating, running and jumping, would never be forgotten.

Soon, the day came to an end. The rooms, gardens and basketball court were deserted and the servants were sent home. With the guests gone, lights off and all alone, it was Giraffe Plumber’s bedtime. The strange alterations of this long day, that he had encountered through impulse and the thrill that accompanied it, sent a rush through his body. The simple rush sent goose bumps through his whole body and thoughts of the scheduled bedtime were deserted. Instead he vacated his living room of furniture, laid down a few blankets and piled on pillow after pillow.

Hour after hour he watched movie after movie. Movies he’d never seen before, movies he’d never heard of before and movies that never seemed to appeal to him. Midnight passed and morning was fast arriving. Giraffe Plumber’s eyelids slowly curtained his eyes and his mind emptied, completely rid of thoughts of unanswered questions or unsureness that had flooded him the morning before.

Engulfed by his many crinkled blankets and feathery pillows - Giraffe Plumber was not essentially a happy man, nor was he an unhappy man. But he was merely a content man, and a very rich one at that.

Labels: ny 8D