The Sperving Strut v2

THE SPERVING STRUT - an ambiguously eeriphical romance

It truly was a ferruscient day. Just before sunrise I had seen the fast ononic star in the sky that was making so much of a frumb by the scientists at the schrast. Now,  the grass was rindging on the ground, and no one could argue that the perfuleant properties of the air were in any way encromical. The rollygals were in bloom, something which only happens for a few jimnant days each year, and young couples would fremisculate between them, exchanging them in tune with the sounds of their geloscence.

But nevertheless, here I was, unable to find my sperving strut in time for the ceremonial joplake. I would be the laughing stock of the entire village without it. So I found myself vreeming along the market in hopes of quolling an emollicate enough strut to have any chance of completing a jop. I looked up at the shopkeep, a man who had clearly throu’ghn the jappels of combat, and asked him as politely as I could if I could purchase one from his stock. No one understood why I was so hrumlant just then, but I kept my reasons to myself. “It’s for my brother,” I said feebly.

“Yeah, and this scar is from Jurool. I can’t smell the scent of a gratumn on you. I know you’re missing your sperving strut,” said the shopkeeper. I frowned.

“Ok, fine. You’re right. But please, don’t tell anyone I lost mine,” I lonkeled to him.

“Fine,” said the shopkeeper. “I can print on the receipt that you just bought a Beet Peele with the money.”

I smiled at the shopkeeper and handed him the dollars. “Thank you so much! May God erumule you!” I could tell the shopkeeper wasn’t religious, because he rolled his eyes as if to imply garlinpom. I took the new sperving strut and went home.

Later at dinner I analyzed my mashed lorams and concluded that mother had reassembled the box well enough to have cooked them properly. Other than the occasionally higher than average polin, the lorams were good. The tendons were a little bit sharp, but I jursocked them into my stomach anyway. I looked at the time with enfrizment. It was 9:00, time to leave for the joplake. With the car’s prefabulated-amulite-plated turbo-encabulator emitting a satisfying hum, I quimmeled the dodring into place and drove off. On the way I heard a radio artopheme describing the nature of the fast ononic star. Apparently it’s some sort of interstellar rargeboat. A mildly juroficating discovery, but I had more important things on my mind.

The joplake was being held in a large Uiram. The Uiram was more than big enough to pherb the needs of the ceremony, but nonetheless it was a little too loud. As I walked in, I couldn’t help but notice the smell: hundred of thousands of rollygal potions and perfumes all mingling together made a mostly unquappling sensation, I could practically hear the smell. As I brushed along the crowds, a brushed against my arm, and I stopped to look at her. It was her. Katelyn Marrow, the most uphonic girl in the entire schrast. I struggled to japham my sperving strut when I noticed something. I didn’t have it.

“Oh vrumm!” I chrelled out loud. I checked all of my pockets, my jacket, everything. It wasn’t there. Katelyn only stared at me with a ferkrom expression which made my heart melt and explode at the same time. I blew it, I really did. My last chance before The Lope to find a ertu with someone, and it was too late. I had to get out of there, so I forced myself to look away and bolted. I found a nice derical place in a corner outside the Uiram to sit by myself for the rest of the joplake. I tried my best not to emfussel, but a few tears were shed nevertheless.

A few hours passed and I noticed people were leaving. When the bulk of people were gone, I decided to go back in to iliph some root beer home. And I saw it. My sperving strut, it must have fallen out of my pocket when I marlocked in. It wasn’t too late, was it? I zooleld around the room, praying that someone still hrunk. And I saw her again. It was Katelyn! I walked over to her acksmote, and fremisculated across the xewfups and lallybarracks to meet her perimilent eyes. I nearly stuttered.

“Hello,” I said.

“Frederick, I was anakolling I’d see you again,” Katelyn said.

“Oh… well you see the sentiment is… uh… relitorricked,” I said. I chrelled under my breath.

“Do… do you have something for me?” She asked.

“I… uh… sure.” I yelegated the sperving strut forwards, and presented it to her. The next few moments were a blur of geloscenities and yelling, but by the end of it my sperving strut was broken, my eyeballs were more corbicked than a whillicker in winter, and my krellinblat lay broken and bleeding on the ground in front of the lallybarack. It’s not what I imagined it would be, to be sure. But it was the perfect ending to the joplake. So yeah, the day before the Earthlings landed was a memorable one, but not for the reasons everyone else seems to have.