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Below is an excerpt from thisstrife.com/sluggy/tmstjun04.htm.

14/06/04 (Visitor Counter=75,961): Cartoony goodness of the future, and a grim tale of my misspent youth...
The cartoon workshop was a success! With seven people all drawing caricatures of each other and themselves on Saturday, and with some of them producing an eight-page colour comic strip on Sunday, I'd say it was most productive indeed.

Read the comic here! "THE BACKPACKERS!"

But what was it like in the days before I used to draw comic strips?
Well, here's a little something that I scrawled in an exercise book when I was 15, slightly before I started drawing comic strips again (after having given up drawing comics when I was 12). Spelling, grammar, plot inconsistencies and supposedly hi-tech computer specifications are preserved exactly as they were nine years ago. Thou hast been warneth.

The Story of Little-White-Riding-Sleeping-Cinder-Gretel-Locks

And the Seven Dwarfs


By Andrew Kepple, 1995.


Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, as per usual, there lived, funnily enough, a king. Now this king had a beautiful daughter who, because she could get ANY food that she wanted, was incredibly fat. The king was sad, because the queen had died when Little-White-Riding-Sleeping-Cinder-Gretel-Locks was only a tiny baby.


But not too far away from this merry land, beyond Sherwouldn’t Forest, up in Thunderbone Mountain, lived a terrible, ugly, fat witch called Witch Coco. Now Witch Coco would fly down into the merry town on her broomstick, go to the supermarket to refuel her broomstick, then fly back home to her cave where she kept a secret magical laptop IBM pentium computer with 3.5” disk drive and CD-ROM system.


Each day, she would switch on her laptop and type in (after the autoexec.bat had finished running)

“Laptop, laptop, in my hand,

Who is the fattest in the land?” at her DOS-prompt. The reply was:

“You do not have enough memory for this application. Please try to delete some TSRs, I you have any.”

“What is a TSR?” Witch Coco wondered. “Maybe ‘Portholes’ is a TSR.” So she deleted Megahard Portholes and all its icons. But still more TSRs had to be deleted. She remembered her favourite game, “The Space Race”. Its initals were TSR… She watched sadly as all 50,279 kilobytes of The Space Race were devoured by oblivion. Still not enough memory! Bye bye to the games “Captain Enthusiast”, “Porkenswein 3D”, and “The Secret of Donkey Island”.


But she still didn’t have enough memory on her laptop. Slamming it shut, she consulted her mirror.

“Mirror, mirror, in my hand,

Who is the fattest in the land?”

To which the mirror replied, “You do not have enough memory to run this application. Try deleting a few TSRs, if you have any.” In a rage, the witch, forgetting what seven years bad luck meant, grabbed an axe and aimed it at the mirror. “No, no!” the mirror cried out. “O witch, I will tell the truth!”

“Good,” cackled the witch, lowering the axe.

“The fattest in this little land,” began the mirror, “You can bet your socks,

Is Little-White-Riding-Sleeping-Cinder-Gretel-Locks!”

That was when a large axe suddenly stuck into the mirror.


Oh yes, that evil Witch Coco had a cunning plan to rid the world of Little-White-Riding-Sleeping-etc. She cast an illusionary beauty-spell over herself.

“Would you believe I used to look like this?”

[Picture: Ugly old witch]

“Well now that I’ve tried Spell-Beauty™, I’ve changed to this!”

[Picture: Attractive young witch]

So phone now on 0800-525-525-787-375-69-40-50-202025-77-88-99-101-732-517-351 NOW! to order your own “Spell Beauty™”.


The first seventeen callers will each receive a set of 72 steak-knives? Yes! You’ll never know when you need to cut up 72 steaks at once!


When the king saw the witch, he fell in love with her and they were married. The witch then locked Little-White-What’s-Her-Features in the dungeon, but, seeing that the dungeon was made of cake, the fat Little-White-Riding-etc ate her way out and escaped. Off she pounded down the road.




When the witch (now QUEEN Coco!) found this out, she was FURIOUS! On the news that night:

Presenter - “In the news tonight, Prince Heroic slays a dragon… Oh, and this just in: Little-Ride-Writing-Snoring-Syndicate has escaped from the king’s dungeon! Manager for Dungeons Incorporated said: ‘Gee, that’s too bad.’” (Cut to a shot of the manager for Dungeons Incorporated. Down the bottom of the screen it says “Manager For Dungeons Incorporated”)

Manager for Dungeons Incorporated - “Gee, that’s too bad.”


The king was sent out by Witch Coco to kill Little-White-Sleeping-Heidi-etc and bring back her lollies. The king went out in Sherwouldn’t forest but felt so guilty and ashamed that instead he killed a rabbit, plucked out its eyes and kidneys, and brought them to the queen/witch.

“Aha!” The witch’s eyes lit up. She thanked the king, who watched in astonishment as she chewed up the rabbit body-parts.


Meanwhile, deep in the forest, Little-White-Riding-Sleeping-Kinder-Locks decided to ask for help at a nearby cottage. The trouble was, there were no cottages nearby. So the asked a happy forest animal for directions to a nearby far-off cottage. “Well then,” said the happy forest animal, who happened to be a bad, big wolf, “I know a short cut… you just run through those trees and you’ll see it.” Little-Wide-Sliding-Reaping-Tinder-Box thanked the bad, big wolf and ploughed through the trees. Finally she arrived at a cottage. She squeezed her way in and, to her surprise, saw seven bowls of porridge cooling on the table.


She sat down on one chair and reduced it to kindling. She sat on the second chair and it shattered into toothpicks. The third and fourth followed suit. Standing, Gretel-White-Riding-Sleepy-Dopey-Docs tasted the first big bowl of lumpy porridge, which was too hot. The second bowl was too cold, but all the rest were also too hot. She pondered her situation for a moment, then poured all the porridge out on the table, mushed it up and made… lukewarm porridge! Bon appetite! She licked it off the tabletop. Soon, she was very sleepy. She moseyed on over to the stairs and began to climb. The second stair crashed out from beneath her, making her fall down and demolish the staircase. Taking the lift to the next floor, she stepped out into a bedroom with three beds. She sat on the first one, which, like the chairs, disintegrated. As did the second bed.


Slowly, carefully, Little-White-Riding-Sleeping-Syndicate lay down on the third bed. Popping, wood-snapping noises were emitted. With an almighty crash, the bed became kindling. Rolling off the remains of the bed, she heard a muffled noise coming from the bedclothes. She drew back the eiderdown and there, flat as a pancake, was the bad, big wolf, dressed as Grandma! The bad, big wolf leaped up and howled angrily. “My,” exclaimed Little-Red-Gretel-etc-Lox, “what a big bruise you have.”


Little-White-Whatever edged towards the lift but heard at that moment three dwarfs entering the house. “Someone’s been eating my porridge,” grumbled Father Dwarf.

“Someone’s been eating my porridge,” moaned Mother Dwarf.

 “Someone’s been eating my porridge, “ complained Baby Dwarf, “- And they ate my chair, too!” Suddenly, Little-White-Whatsername came thundering down the elevator shaft, bowled over the dwarfs and mowed her way out the door. The bad, big wolf, in hot persuit, leaped through a window, which he suddenly realised was shut.


Little-White-Locksmith-Thingy came to a house made of sticks. “Help,” she cried, “the bad, big wolf is after me!” A pig emerged and said, “Quick! To my brother’s house of bricks!” Away they ran, and came to a house of bricks. “Help” (etc.) Another pig emerged and cried, “Pronto! To my brother’s house of candy!” Away they pounded, until they arrived at a house of confectionery. “The bad, big wolf’s after us!” they yelled. “Quick,” responded the pig, who was rather obese, “get inside my house, but DON’T,” he warned, looking significantly at Little-Red-Chunderella-Features, “let my house get inside you!” They hid inside the house… and waited…


Meanwhile, Queen Witch Coco was consulting her magic mirror: “Mirror, mirror with an axe,

Tell me who’s fattest, and send it by fax!” But the mirror, cracked and  whacked, said nothing. “GRR!” fumed Queen Witch Coco and, hopping on her broomstick, zoomed off to loot Dick Smith & Smith’s Glassware Store (where everything reflects). Back in her lair in Thunderbone Mountain, Queen Witch Coco asked her new mirror, “Mirror, Mirror, before my gaze,

Who’s the flabbiest, these days?”

To which the mirror responded “You do not have enough memor… er , is that an axe you’re holding?… I mean;

The flabbiest in all the land, you can bet your Docs,

Is Little-White-Riding-Sleeping-Cinder-Gretel-Locks!

And isn’t it just dandy,

How she’s in a house of candy?”

SMASH! The mirror fell to the floor with an axe protruding from its glass. “Wrong answer,” murmured the other broken mirror.


“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in!” cackled Witch Coco through the fudge door of the pigs’ lolly house. “Not by the hairs on our skinny-skin-skin!” squealed the pigs.

“Now why would anyone enter a house by means of pig-hair,” wondered Queen Witch Coco. “Then I’ll eat my way in,” she cackled. “Or, more correctly, these two kids will!” Queen Witch Coco then introduced to the pigs and Little-Riding-Betchasox, the two most notorious robot sweeteaters this side of the black stump:… Tinsel und Metal! Tinsel und Metal looked at the house and began to eat…


Little-Red-Sneaking-Kinder-Knocks sneaked out the back door but who was there… but Queen Witch Coco, HERSELF! “EEK!” shrieked Little-Red-Cider-Barrel-Rider-etc; and threw a bucket of H2O over the witch. It was quite a pity that she didn’t actually throw it on the witch, but , over it went… and landed in the garden. “Missed,” roared Queen Witch Coco. But suddenly a rumbling was heard, and from behind the witch, in the garden, an almighty beanstalk sprouted and twined up into the clouds. “Fee, Fie, Fo, Finger!” boomed the unmistakable baritone voice of a giant. The beanstalk buckled slightly as the giant was seen to descend it, from up in the clouds… “The axe!” yelled Little-etc-Locks. The pigs, thinking fast, grabbed an axe and used it to smash open the door of their garden shed. They raced into it and hid.


Little-White-Dorothy-Riding-etc seized the axe and chopped down the beanstalk. “Timberrrr,” she yodeled. Just then, Chicken Pickin’ raced up to Queen Witch Coco. “Oh, Queen,” he cheeped. “The sky is falling!” But before she had finished hearing Chicken Pickin’s warning, Queen Witch Coco experienced a giant giant come thundering down upon her. Actually the giant was not a giant, as such, but a very, VERY fat handsome prince. He plucked the glass slippers off the witch’s feet (which crinkled up curled underneath his flabby folds) and handed them to Little-White-Sleeping-Riding-Cinder-Gretel-Locks. “My hero,” she sighed, and the two were married and lived flabbily ever after.


After the wedding, a tortoise came trundling past, followed by a rabbit. “I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date,” cried the rabbit. “I lost some vital organs - my eyes and kidneys - a while back and I heard that they were around here someplace.”

“It’s true,” said the fat prince, Prince Valley-Ant. And he led the rabbit to the spot where he had crushed Witch Coco. There, in the witch’s remains, were some perfectly good organs for the rabbit, who scooped them up and poked the kidneys into his eye sockets and the eyeballs into his… kidney… “sockets”. Swapping the organs back to their designated locations, he scuttled off. Suddenwise, a gingerbread man scampered past and Prince Valley-Ant snatched it up and guzzled it down.

And Little-White-Sleeping-Riding-Cinder-Gretel-Lox changed her name to Mrs. Valley-Ant, which made things much simpler.


The End!


So there you go. Shrek cannot outclass 15 y/o Andrew Kepple.