The Adventures of Jindiana Bones
The non-comedic spoof of Indiana Jones
The Columbian Jungle, known for its dense foliage, rumbles around the Ancient Volcano Temple. Hundreds of strange sounds rise up in a cacophony of undiscovered fauna, This isn’t important though, because this story will be about greed instead of new and exciting discoveries. Our brave protagonist bursts into the jungle clearing around the temple, and immediately trips on a projecting rock, and falls straight on his face. Jindiana Bones is a well-rounded, middle-aged man, who, for whatever reason is wearing an undersized button down shirt, a leather jacket, and is carrying brown satchel. He is here for the nefarious TOTEM OF THEMIUM (THUH-|mee-um|). He was looking up this ancient landmark on Google and thought, “Hey, that belongs in a private collection!”
After he picks himself up and dusts himself off, he continues to search for the entrance to the volcano. After taking a gander at four of the three sides that the temple possesses, Jindiana finds Short Round at the temple, a tall, skinny kid with an ubiquitous floppy baseball hat, and was astonished to find that he was looking for the totem too. Short Round challenged him to a fight!
*insert intense battle music here*
“As honourable men, we must do this the right way!” declared Jindiana.
“Sure, how ‘bout a reasonable 5 pace distance?” responded Short Round.
“Right then, on three. One… Two… Thr-”
Short Round and Jindiana Bones bring about the intensity and ferocity of true adventurers, clearly displayed by their fight tactics.
“I can’t believe a middle aged man would be fighting a little kid!”
The cavalier commentary from Short Round causes disarray in the mutual respect they had for each other, and soon ensued the flurry of close-ranged hand and wrist slaps.
As soon as both of them had tired themselves, Jindiana, without thinking twice, pulls out his whip, more trusty than his general conduct will ever be, and quickly whips Short Round, making him fall in the same fashion as Jindiana did in paragraph 1.
”Alright, alright, you win, just put that whip away” Short Round’s sound defeat made him Jindiana Bones’ evil henchman. After this exchange they continue their search and expand their now joint quest to the most perilous part of the temple that they both had avoided in their search out of fear: the front door.
The temple rumbles as though it was awakened from a centuries old slumber. The less than intrepid explorers, who had advanced with firearms at the ready, turned on the heels and fled, only to find that the entrance to the temple had shut. Short Round realizes that he had left his diary outside in the forest clearing. The diary was opened to a page that was so attractive that the passing traveler, dressed in an explorer’s hat and a brown leather jacket, had to stopped to read it.
*Here, the narrator has reproduced the page of Short Round’s diary, and has also taken the liberty to correct numerous grammatical errors*
9/26/16- I have made up my mind. Everyone must die. I have been poisoned by the well of literature, forced into servitude by the collusion of the narrator and the authors, conspiring for the entertainment of themselves. First, the main characters must die. This will mess with their plot to no end. Second, I must destroy the plot. There will be no sense to the story! Third, I will strike at the heart of the problem, which I will keep vague to annoy them even further.
Indiana Jones, the explorer with the explorer’s hat, sits stock still for half an hour. He takes note of some poor quality cheddar cheese drippings and some red ketchup stains, that appear to have come from a Big Mac™. Nothing is achieved however, as he is illiterate. Jones gallops into the temple humming his own theme song, ignoring the fact that it had been shut. The unraveling of the plot begins.
Short Round and Jindiana Bones, who are still clinging to each other in pure terror each other, meet Indiana. After a short interlude, they decide to go adventuring together. The narrator will mark this section for review and editing.
Venturing further into the temple with slingshots at the ready, Jindiana pulls out a phone from his suit pocket. Connecting to the nearby wifi hotspot, he plots a course forward. Short Round marks their path along the wall, as if he would have to find a way out by himself. Up they come to a Schindler hotel elevator going downwards, but their combined weight is not enough to send it downwards, so the narrator helps them along with a 10 pound weight appearing on the bottom of the lift.
Now in a stifling hot chamber with magma flowing on both sides of a long narrow walkway leading to a short brown pedestal with the words “THE IDOL OF THEMIUM” engraved in flowery script on it.
Indiana takes point with Jindiana and and Short Round close on his heels. On the way to the Totem, Jindiana disappears, and the magma bubbles up to one side.
Indiana, oblivious to what horrors has happened, reaches the center pathway. “That magma looks as hot as iced tea,” Indiana said to himself. To add to the dramatic background, the pathway they came on falls into the lava and disappears.
The narrator and author agree that the story is terrible and pass it onto the next person.
Indiana had been in quite a few sticky situations, but this magma was out of his comfort zone. One of Indiana’s idiosyncrasies was that whenever he found himself in the thick of a situation, he would stay stock still. So he did just that. He just stood there. For a long time. During Indiana’s sudden lack of cognition, Short Round took action and gives Indiana a little shove to help him into the magma.
At this point, the new narrator is done with this story, and leaves to prevent any further embarrassment.
The final narrator picks up the story, reads the horror his comrades have left him to work with, and begins his work crafting an actual story.
Indiana gets many negative 3rd degree burns from the iced-tea temperature lava and dies after about 2 seconds. Short Round, now that both the Joneses and Boneses are dead by his hand, casually skips to the Totem. He bounces up to it and forgets to check it for some convoluted ancient pressure plate system that was labled “Will totally not try to kill you” (P.S.: There was one).
Suddenly, the whole temple started rumbling and the exit path that fell for dramatic effect before these series of events very dramatically rose out of the lava to give Short Round a convenient escape route. Short Round quickly dashes towards the exit with the Totem and does the stereotypical “hero-type person slides through a closing door to barely escape danger” as the lava somehow surges up around him. He barely makes it through the doorway as it randomly slams shut (like that stereotype the author just mentioned), but, like any good story protagonist (or antagonist, depending on your morals), his trials aren’t over.
Short Round rests after that super strenuous 15 foot dash. Above him, Short Round hears a series of clicking noises, looks up, and realizes that he is stand beneath a GARGANTUAN BALL OF SPIDERS that are all somehow both malicious and all stuck together. He yells in surprise and starts running towards the exit. “Spiders,” Short Round mutters to himself, “Why does it always have to be spiders?” He sprints towards the elevator before realizing the conveniently placed staircase would be faster. Pushing his body to the limits trying to get up the stairs, Short Round sprints up trying to get away from the spiders which disappear for reasons unknown to him. He charges towards the exit door. He can see the sunlight and almost tastes his escape, the warm sun inviting him to the outside before realizing, the front door was slammed shut in the third paragraph.
Short Round is at the end of his tether. He was *this* close to getting away with double murder and the totem. He will not accept failure as an option now. “Narrator! Would you mind changing the story, specifically the fifth paragraph, so I can escape? If not, I’ll just sit here and die, and then where would your story be?” shouts Short Round angrily.
The narrator mulls it over for a few seconds. This story, he considers, is going to end very badly anyway. “Very well,” he shrugs and changes the fifth paragraph.
The fifth paragraph now reads:
“The temple rumbles as though it was awakened from a centuries old slumber. The less than intrepid explorers, who had advanced with firearms they bought at a dollar store at the ready, turned on the heels and fled, only to find that the entrance to the temple had shut become a gauntlet of very pointy swinging objects. Short Round realizes that he had left his diary outside in the forest clearing. The diary was opened to a page that was so attractive that the passing travelers, dressed in an explorer’s hat and a brown leather jacket, had to stop and read it.”
Short Round, now happy that the necessary changes were made, spins around only to met by a plethora of very pointy objects which, due to his lack of both energy and agility, he quickly impaled himself on.
“Well,” thought the narrator,” I guess this is how the story ends. Oh well, it was a pretty bad story anyway.”
Just then, the elevator dings and the ball of spiders rolls out. It must have been too much work rolling up the staircase. The ball of spiders trundles over the narrator.
A ghostly fog descends upon the temple, enveloping the ancient wonder in an impenetrable barrier. The stone wall falls into place with a slam, shutting the door to this mysterious universe until the next valiant explorers wish to brave the super-scarey horrors that await them.
This story is over now. The characters are dead Everyone ever introduced in this story has died. You can stop reading now. Unless, you wish to question. Question what you may ask? Question: Who is telling this story?
The non-comedic spoof of Indiana Jones
The Columbian Jungle, known for its dense foliage, rumbles around the Ancient Volcano Temple. Hundreds of strange sounds rise up in a cacophony of undiscovered fauna, This isn’t important though, because this story will be about greed instead of new and exciting discoveries. Our brave protagonist bursts into the jungle clearing around the temple, and immediately trips on a projecting rock, and falls straight on his face. Jindiana Bones is a well-rounded, middle-aged man, who, for whatever reason is wearing an undersized button down shirt, a leather jacket, and is carrying brown satchel. He is here for the nefarious TOTEM OF THEMIUM (THUH-|mee-um|). He was looking up this ancient landmark on Google and thought, “Hey, that belongs in a private collection!”
After he picks himself up and dusts himself off, he continues to search for the entrance to the volcano. After taking a gander at four of the three sides that the temple possesses, Jindiana finds Short Round at the temple, a tall, skinny kid with an ubiquitous floppy baseball hat, and was astonished to find that he was looking for the totem too. Short Round challenged him to a fight!
*insert intense battle music here*
“As honourable men, we must do this the right way!” declared Jindiana.
“Sure, how ‘bout a reasonable 5 pace distance?” responded Short Round.
“Right then, on three. One… Two… Thr-”
Short Round and Jindiana Bones bring about the intensity and ferocity of true adventurers, clearly displayed by their fight tactics.
“I can’t believe a middle aged man would be fighting a little kid!”
The cavalier commentary from Short Round causes disarray in the mutual respect they had for each other, and soon ensued the flurry of close-ranged hand and wrist slaps.
As soon as both of them had tired themselves, Jindiana, without thinking twice, pulls out his whip, more trusty than his general conduct will ever be, and quickly whips Short Round, making him fall in the same fashion as Jindiana did in paragraph 1.
”Alright, alright, you win, just put that whip away” Short Round’s sound defeat made him Jindiana Bones’ evil henchman. After this exchange they continue their search and expand their now joint quest to the most perilous part of the temple that they both had avoided in their search out of fear: the front door.
The temple rumbles as though it was awakened from a centuries old slumber. The less than intrepid explorers, who had advanced with firearms at the ready, turned on the heels and fled, only to find that the entrance to the temple had shut. Short Round realizes that he had left his diary outside in the forest clearing. The diary was opened to a page that was so attractive that the passing traveler, dressed in an explorer’s hat and a brown leather jacket, had to stopped to read it.
*Here, the narrator has reproduced the page of Short Round’s diary, and has also taken the liberty to correct numerous grammatical errors*
9/26/16- I have made up my mind. Everyone must die. I have been poisoned by the well of literature, forced into servitude by the collusion of the narrator and the authors, conspiring for the entertainment of themselves. First, the main characters must die. This will mess with their plot to no end. Second, I must destroy the plot. There will be no sense to the story! Third, I will strike at the heart of the problem, which I will keep vague to annoy them even further.
Indiana Jones, the explorer with the explorer’s hat, sits stock still for half an hour. He takes note of some poor quality cheddar cheese drippings and some red ketchup stains, that appear to have come from a Big Mac™. Nothing is achieved however, as he is illiterate. Jones gallops into the temple humming his own theme song, ignoring the fact that it had been shut. The unraveling of the plot begins.
Short Round and Jindiana Bones, who are still clinging to each other in pure terror each other, meet Indiana. After a short interlude, they decide to go adventuring together. The narrator will mark this section for review and editing.
Venturing further into the temple with slingshots at the ready, Jindiana pulls out a phone from his suit pocket. Connecting to the nearby wifi hotspot, he plots a course forward. Short Round marks their path along the wall, as if he would have to find a way out by himself. Up they come to a Schindler hotel elevator going downwards, but their combined weight is not enough to send it downwards, so the narrator helps them along with a 10 pound weight appearing on the bottom of the lift.
Now in a stifling hot chamber with magma flowing on both sides of a long narrow walkway leading to a short brown pedestal with the words “THE IDOL OF THEMIUM” engraved in flowery script on it.
Indiana takes point with Jindiana and and Short Round close on his heels. On the way to the Totem, Jindiana disappears, and the magma bubbles up to one side.
Indiana, oblivious to what horrors has happened, reaches the center pathway. “That magma looks as hot as iced tea,” Indiana said to himself. To add to the dramatic background, the pathway they came on falls into the lava and disappears.
The narrator and author agree that the story is terrible and pass it onto the next person.
Indiana had been in quite a few sticky situations, but this magma was out of his comfort zone. One of Indiana’s idiosyncrasies was that whenever he found himself in the thick of a situation, he would stay stock still. So he did just that. He just stood there. For a long time. During Indiana’s sudden lack of cognition, Short Round took action and gives Indiana a little shove to help him into the magma.
At this point, the new narrator is done with this story, and leaves to prevent any further embarrassment.
The final narrator picks up the story, reads the horror his comrades have left him to work with, and begins his work crafting an actual story.
Indiana gets many negative 3rd degree burns from the iced-tea temperature lava and dies after about 2 seconds. Short Round, now that both the Joneses and Boneses are dead by his hand, casually skips to the Totem. He bounces up to it and forgets to check it for some convoluted ancient pressure plate system that was labled “Will totally not try to kill you” (P.S.: There was one).
Suddenly, the whole temple started rumbling and the exit path that fell for dramatic effect before these series of events very dramatically rose out of the lava to give Short Round a convenient escape route. Short Round quickly dashes towards the exit with the Totem and does the stereotypical “hero-type person slides through a closing door to barely escape danger” as the lava somehow surges up around him. He barely makes it through the doorway as it randomly slams shut (like that stereotype the author just mentioned), but, like any good story protagonist (or antagonist, depending on your morals), his trials aren’t over.
Short Round rests after that super strenuous 15 foot dash. Above him, Short Round hears a series of clicking noises, looks up, and realizes that he is stand beneath a GARGANTUAN BALL OF SPIDERS that are all somehow both malicious and all stuck together. He yells in surprise and starts running towards the exit. “Spiders,” Short Round mutters to himself, “Why does it always have to be spiders?” He sprints towards the elevator before realizing the conveniently placed staircase would be faster. Pushing his body to the limits trying to get up the stairs, Short Round sprints up trying to get away from the spiders which disappear for reasons unknown to him. He charges towards the exit door. He can see the sunlight and almost tastes his escape, the warm sun inviting him to the outside before realizing, the front door was slammed shut in the third paragraph.
Short Round is at the end of his tether. He was *this* close to getting away with double murder and the totem. He will not accept failure as an option now. “Narrator! Would you mind changing the story, specifically the fifth paragraph, so I can escape? If not, I’ll just sit here and die, and then where would your story be?” shouts Short Round angrily.
The narrator mulls it over for a few seconds. This story, he considers, is going to end very badly anyway. “Very well,” he shrugs and changes the fifth paragraph.
The fifth paragraph now reads:
“The temple rumbles as though it was awakened from a centuries old slumber. The less than intrepid explorers, who had advanced with firearms they bought at a dollar store at the ready, turned on the heels and fled, only to find that the entrance to the temple had shut become a gauntlet of very pointy swinging objects. Short Round realizes that he had left his diary outside in the forest clearing. The diary was opened to a page that was so attractive that the passing travelers, dressed in an explorer’s hat and a brown leather jacket, had to stop and read it.”
Short Round, now happy that the necessary changes were made, spins around only to met by a plethora of very pointy objects which, due to his lack of both energy and agility, he quickly impaled himself on.
“Well,” thought the narrator,” I guess this is how the story ends. Oh well, it was a pretty bad story anyway.”
Just then, the elevator dings and the ball of spiders rolls out. It must have been too much work rolling up the staircase. The ball of spiders trundles over the narrator.
A ghostly fog descends upon the temple, enveloping the ancient wonder in an impenetrable barrier. The stone wall falls into place with a slam, shutting the door to this mysterious universe until the next valiant explorers wish to brave the super-scarey horrors that await them.
This story is over now. The characters are dead Everyone ever introduced in this story has died. You can stop reading now. Unless, you wish to question. Question what you may ask? Question: Who is telling this story?