DISCLAIMER:

This Story was written by me, PookyTheFox. Please don’t alter it in anyway. Unless you have a gun. If you have a gun, and you know where I live, then you can alter it to your heart’s content. Otherwise, Please don’t alter this story in any way.
Also, I am nothing like Herbiv. I mean, Herbiv is a big fan of Yanni. Never heard of him? Look for one of his CD’s at your local music shop, and you’ll see why NOBODY is ANYTHING LIKE HERBIV!

I’m sure there are plenty of mistakes in this story. I tell you what, how’s this for a deal: The first person to find all the mistakes in this story and tell me about them will receive a free copy of my next story.

I’d like to send out thanks to a few people. Sure, I’d like to, but I don’t have the time or patience. You know who you are.

The name “Cheezels” and the Cheezels box and logo are ® Registered Trademarks of the Cheezels company and Snack Brands Australia. If by some unusual coincidence a member of the Cheezels company happens to get a hold of this story and reads it, Please don’t track me down and kill me! I just wrote this story solely for the purpose of a bit of fun and a good laugh, not to have a gang of Cheezely people hunt me down and steal my genitals. Please, be nice…

I wish to dedicate this life story of a made-up character to my dead Grandmother.
Fortunately, she’s not dead yet, But I’ll let you know…

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CHEEZELS! By Herbiv Blachalach

Hi. I’m Herbiv. This is a story about my life.

Y’know, Cheezels are good. They are bright orange, so they can be distinctly seen from a far-away distance. Cheezels come in various sized packets, and even boxes. They are great for parties, because they are exciting and tasty. They go soggy in lemonade, but they don’t dissolve. They are also very safe. For example, they have a hole in the middle, so if it goes down your throat whole, you can still breathe. Isn’t that grand?

Cheezels are very safe, but they can be dangerous, too. Like, once I got a Cheezel stuck in my eye. It was hurties. The doctors had to amputate my retina. It ouched a lot. Nevertheless, I still love Cheezels!

Sometimes, I put Cheezels in the blender, along with milk, mayonnaise and prunes, and make a “Pruzelnaise Shake”. Sometimes, I put Cheezels in my pants and sit down. They make a swell crushy sound and get stuck all over my buttock-cheeks. I have to scrub real hard with steel wool to get them off my bottom. I love Cheezels!

Say, that reminds me of a trick! What’s Cheezel Plus Cheezel? TWOCHEEZEL! Heha!

Erm…You is probably wondering why I love Cheezels so much, and why I talk about them all the time, and why I named my autobiography, of all things “Cheezels!”? Well, It’s ‘cause my dad, right, he bought the company.

We got to keep the Cheezel tractor. It’s this tractor, right, but it’s got “Cheezels” written on the front, and “Cheezels” written on the back, and “Cheezels” written on the side, and “Cheezels” written on the other side, and a picture of a bag of Cheezels on the back, with “Cheezels” written underneath it. I think the Cheezel tractor is the main reason dad bought the company.

Every Saturday morning, dad and I drive the Cheezel tractor into town. We supply all the shops with their Cheezels, and in exchange, they give us 2% discount on premium loaf bread. Dad always buys two loaves, one for him and one for me.

We drive the tractor down to the car park and park in our Cheezel tractor’s favorite parking place, which is next to a dead Lark. If our park is already taken, dad breaks into and hotwires the car what’s in our place. Then we drive it down the road to the car wreckers and get lots of money for it. Anyway, we take our loaves of bread and sit down in an empty parking space to eat them. If there are no parks left empty, then dad hotwires another car.

So we sit and eat the loaves of bread, along with a thermos full of hot Pruzelnaise shakes, and when we’ve finished, we go home, to our house, where we live.

We park the Cheezel tractor in the lounge room and put a feathery blanket over it. In the hot weather, dad clears everything out of the fridge and we sit in there for a while, talking about what happened on Mr. Ed the previous night. In the cold weather, we set the oven on low and sit in there.

Hey! I remember this one time when I had the day off school, and so I spent the day at dad’s Cheezel factory. I was up on one of those top-walk bits that overlook the machines from above. Anyway, I was walking along, looking down into one of the mixers, mixing up the Cheezel mix, and I tripped and fell off the edge of the top-walk bit and landed in the mixer with the mixture being mixed. It was really scary, struggling to get out of a big mixer, when all the time you’ve got these big, sharp mixing blades swinging towards you.

I remember the agonizing pain that went through my body, when two blades swung around, one slicing off my ear, and the other cutting off a portion of my chin.

“HERBIV!”, my dad screamed, noticing me flopping around in the thick, cheesy goo. Dad ran off and returned with a long piece of purple nylon. It contrasted well with the orangey-yellow mixture. As I climbed the nylon, the thin purple string slowly cut off three fingers on my left hand, which fell into the mixture, but all I was worried about was getting out of the mixer. As the last of me was pulled up from the mixture, another blade swung around and cut off the big toe on my right foot. Luckily, the rest of me was recovered safely, but those other bits were all lost in the mixture, never to be seen again…

Okay, I remember another time where I was staying at Graham’s house for dinner. Graham’s twelve, and I’m thirteen, but at the time I think I was ten and he was eleven. I have dinner at his house most nights. Graham and me do lots of stuff together. We go to the same school, we study together, in fact, when we were younger, we even used to bathe together!

Anyways, we were having dinner. We always…
Where was I? Hang on, I’ve just gotta go back and read over this to find out where I’m up to…
Oh, yeah! That’s right…

I nearly always have dinner at Graham’s house. He’s my brother. We were having Chicken Kiev, and it was steaming hot. Graham stuck his fork into his Chicken Kiev, and the juice all squirted up at him, and scolded his right nipple. He jumped up from the table, screamed, and ran to his room. Mum said that we should leave him in his room until the spoilt bastard calms down. Well, that’s what she said!

Just when I thought all the drama had passed, mum stuck her fork into her Chicken Kiev, and scolded her left nipple. She didn’t run away screaming though, she just passed out. Dad was in a coma that week, so he wasn’t there.

When Graham is sad, hurt, depressed, or nervous, he either has a smoke, a post mortem, or a cavity search. I went up to his room and pushed open his door. To my relief, he was having a smoke. He smokes these really big cigars. He used to smoke Cheezels, but dad caught him, and gave him this big lecture on how Cheezels are for eating, not smoking. Luckily, I still haven’t been caught putting them down my pants.

Anyway, he was smoking ‘cause of stress, and I could tell that he was really stressed, because he inhaled the cigar. Like, he breathed in too hard and too fast, and the lit cigar went down his throat whole!

I could tell that the cigar was burning his throat, and that he was in a lot of pain, because he was screaming “The cigar is burning my throat, and I’m in a lot of pain!!!”.

I ran down to the dining room to get something to stop the burning sensation in Graham’s throat. In desperation, I grabbed a bottle of Pruzelnaise shake. When I quickly turned around from the table, I tripped over my passed out mum, and landed on her chest with great force, shattering her ribcage. I had to get her to the hospital before she died, but I had more important matters to attend to at the time.

I raced to the table once again, and hastily grabbed Graham’s Chicken Kiev, which still had a lot of juice in it. It was still scolding hot, and I wasn’t about to go pouring scolding hot juice down his throat, so I dropped it and ran off. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had dropped the Chicken Kiev on my mother’s face.

I ran out to the front yard and frantically looked around. The first thing that I saw in the form of a liquid was a can of petrol sitting in the carport beside the car. I ran over to it, but then I remembered that petrol is flammable. I couldn’t put out my brother’s burning throat with a flammable liquid like petrol, so I grabbed a bottle of Methylated Spirits and ran back inside. I ran back up to my brother’s room, and noticed a black hole beginning to burn through his throat.

So it turns out that the bottle has a childproof cap, and I didn’t have time to sit there and work out how to unscrew the lid, so I put the bottle on the ground and jumped on it. The lid came off, but it sprayed everywhere, and some of it sprayed into Graham’s eyes!

And he was running around screaming “AUAUAAAUHHH! IT’S BURNING MY EYES! I CAN’T SEE ANY MORE! AGH! THIS ISN’T TO MY ADVANTAGE!” and stuff like that. He was all scolded, dirty, burnt, bleeding and screaming, so I dragged him down to the bathroom, dropped him in the bath and put in the plug. It’s a special Cheezel plug. It has a picture of a big Cheezel on it.

It came to be that I turned on the hot tap by mistake, and incidentally, Graham was scolded again. By this time, he was no longer screaming. I assumed that it was because he’d got used to the pain by now, or that he had passed out or something, but of course, I found out later that he had died.

The fact that he had died was probably a good thing too, because when I rushed to turn the hot water off, I knocked a lamp off the table and into the bath. All the glass from the lamp shattered on Graham’s face. Cut him up pretty bad too. Oh yeah, the lamp was turned on, and when it fell into the bath, it electrocuted him.

Later that night, I lay on my bed and cried.
I hadn’t had a Cheezel all day.
And my brother was dead.
And my mum…MUM! CRAP!

I raced down to the dining room as fast as I possibly could. I couldn’t believe that I’d forgotten about my own mother! When I got there, I found my mum lying on the floor surrounded in a pool of blood and Chicken Kiev. She had no pulse, and her eyes were open, so I closed them, because they were starting to dry up. I thought that she might still have a chance, so I opened her mouth, held her nose, and blew into her mouth, just like they do in E.R., Chicago Hope, and Baywatch. Then I pushed down on her chest, but that cracked her ribcage even more.

Sobbing quietly, I began to drag my mother through the kitchen and to the front door. Halfway through the kitchen, I smelled something burning…

I dropped my mum, her head made a loud click noise on the tiles when it hit them. I don’t think that the click sound was her skull cracking, because skulls are pretty tough aren’t they? Anyway, I ran over to the oven and opened the door. Extremely hot air wafted out, scolding the entire upper-front section of my body. I jumped back, screamed for three quarters of an hour, then jumped forward again, because I noticed that I had jumped and landed on my mother. To my surprise, mum had made a cake for dessert. Cheezel-Cake. I grabbed a knife and sat down at the table to eat it. I guess the day hadn’t turned out too bad after all!

The next four years went pretty smoothly, except for the second year, in which my father died from a laxative overdose. But that’s just a small glitch in a big wonderful life. Besides, now I’ve taken over the Cheezels Company, which means all the more Cheezels for me! Next year, the company is releasing my special Pruzelnaise-Shake as an official Cheezels product. We’re also working around the clock to release three other new Cheezels products, which should be out either next year, or the year after. Diet Pruzelnaise, Cheezel-Cake, and Cheezel-Cigarettes.

Well, that’s my life story. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

P.S. Buy Some Cheezels Today, and every day. They’re Beautiful.

P.P.S. If you’re eating Cheezels one day, and you happen to find an ear, a piece of chin, some fingers and a big toe, can you mail them back to me?


THE END...?