Spring Game 2008 by Nick Feder


It's the contents of Nick Feder's brain spewed into game form! What's not to love?


Once upon a time in Schmexico, Pepe the goat was happily walking down the rocky, dirt road. The night was warm and his furry body bobbed up and down as he strode carefreely down the dusty lane. The moon was singing a beautiful song above him and the stars joined in, like the always attractive back up singers at ever concert ever. Pepe hummed along as he neared his home. Behind him, the bushes twitched and shivered as an unknown presence lurked in the shadowy shadows.

Across the river, on the far side of a very tall fence, two men, one with blazing red hair, the other with darker hair and a more pointed face, rolled a barrel full of gunpowder down a grassy hill. It crashed into the fence with a jingle-jangle and came to a stop.

“Hey, Chiff, why we doin’ this again?” asked the dark haired boy.

“Because, Miss! If we blow a hole in the fence, there won’t be a border no more, and we can be the ones who united Schmexico with the United Greats of Spamerica.” He reached into his pocket, looking for his box of matches, but only found the bottom of his pocket and an old wheat penny.

“Miss, did you take my matches again?” he asked, flusteredly. Miss looked at him.

“Well, yeah!” he answered, also flusteredly.

“Why would you take my matches?!” Chiff demanded. Miss looked at him as if he were stupid. “Well, you said to get rid of the matches before we went into that patch o cactuses.” Chiff rolled his eyes and put his hands on his head.

“I said ‘Don’t get any scratches!’” Miss turned his head to the side.

“Well that’s just stupid! You can’t go into a patch of razor plants and not expect a few scratches!”

Further to the North, in a Diner filled to the brim with fluorescent lights, but with only half of them working, a woman with fiery red hair and a knife on her belt, sat with a root beer float and a vengeance.

“Evenin’ Sheriff,” said a waitress as she poured coffee all over the table.

“Evenin’” replied Sheriff, gazing out the window.

“You expectin’ trouble tonight?” asked the waitress, sitting in the hot puddle on the seat.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” answered Sheriff. She glared through the glare on the glass of the flickering window and watched the south, for any movement.

Pepe turned the key and opened the door to his house. He turned on the light and stood in shock as he saw his wife and three sons bound on the floor, surrounded by a slobbery gang of chupacabras. Their flat, squarish heads, filled with teeth, looked up from their dastardly deeds and they shot fire out of their eyes in a small poof of excitement. Pepe froze, his little goat beard becoming stiff and rigid. The horns on his head straightened and the hair on his back shot straight up. He screamed in terror and something hit him from the back. Chiff rummaged around in his pockets hoping to find any scrap of fire making equipment, but only found disappointment and frustration in his otherwise empty pockets. He thrust his hand deep into his pocket, but again pulled out only air.

“How are we supposed to be saviors and unifiers if we can’t even blow this stupid thing up?!” He demanded. Miss stood, watching him.

“Well, ya know,” he said, slowly. “We could just use my lighter.” Chiff turned red. Steam started to spout from his ears like a geyser. His teeth clenched together and every muscle in his body tensed. From the deep anger growing in his stomach, he launched his furious interrogation on his brother with the intensity of a thousand camping trips.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A LIGHTER!?” he roared, shaking the needles out of the cacti.

“Cuz you wanted matches,” Miss responded, shrugging his shoulders. Chiff’s hair burst into flame, and lit the area around them. He paused and felt the top of his head, to ensure that it was indeed ablaze. Then, with a manic look in his eye, he grabbed the powder keg and smashed his head into the side of it.

The lights flickered and the dishes all clashed together for a moment in the shockwave of the explosion. Sheriff’s eyes got huge as she watched the column of fire explode across the sandy plane of cacti and scorpions. She grabbed her root beer float and slammed the whole thing down her throat, then wiping the foamy ice cream and soda mustache from her upper lip, she leapt out of her booth and ran to the door, which she wrenched open and sprang down the steps. Her large boots sent dust clouds out from under them as she crashed to the ground, shaking it almost as much as the explosion, but only for effect. She then leapt into the air and somersaulted into her jeep. She landed in the driver’s seat and started the engine, which came to life, not with a roar, but with an odd kind of belch. She grinned and flared up one eyebrow. She put the car in gear and slammed her foot on the gas pedal, disappearing among the tumbleweed.

Pepe sat tied up on the floor, beside his wife and three kids. The largest of the chupacabras stood, hunched over in the little home.

“So, Pepe,” he began, with his slippery tongue. “It seems to me, that you and your family have been talking about us behind our backs.” He slinked over to Pepe’s wife, Pilar, and stuck his forked tongue in her ear. She shuddered and jerked her head away from the beast. It laughed and looked over at Pepe.

“Listen,” he said, slitherly. “We just want you to talk to your doctor friend.” Its slippery tongue jutted in and out of its mouth as it spoke, getting little driblets of spit everywhere. Pepe cringed as one of them landed in his eye. “It’s time to make the good doctor Guevarra pay for a little insult he paid to my brothers and I.” The other two chupacabras gnashed their teeth.

“Wait, I don’t get it!” Cinderella interrupted. “I thought you said I was in this book!” She cried, putting her pillow down beside her.

“Oh, shut up, Cindy!” cried Belle, throwing her pillow at the blonde princess. “You think just because you’re a princess, everyone loves you!”

“Well, it’s not my fault I’m famous!” Cinderella shouted. She threw her pillow back in retaliation, only to be struck on the back by a blow from Snow White. Rajah started with a low growl, but when she was struck with a pillow, she exploded with a roar and jumped to her feet. Jasmine threw her arms around the fuzzy beast’s neck and tried to soothe her, but to little avail.

“Boy, the thtuff they put on TV thethe daythe. Yeesh!” Daffy changed the channel from his armchair and flipped through various commercials and advertisements. He paused on Gossip Girls, but then continued on through the nothingness of primetime television. “There’s nothing on!” he said, tossing the remote into the fishbowl behind him. He got up and headed for the bathroom, but when he put his hand on the knob, the white door exploded in a fiery explosion of fiery and explodiness. And fire. It blew way up! In the singed door frame, red hair blazing, glasses shimmering, clad in those poofy white pants we all love to death, Benjamin Carl Schwartz stood valiantly, a dramatic breeze blowing from behind him.

“What ithe thith, thome kind o’ reality show?” asked Daffy, from behind the flaming chair. “Not even close!” Shouted Ben. “This is Brain Spewings!” The front door burst open and Chuck Norris filled the gaping hole where the now splintered door had rested. He opened his mouth to say something, but was beaten down by a large black shoe and Antonio Bandares stepped in, holding a guitar in his hand.

“Sorry, Chuck,” he said, moving his hair out of the way. “But it’s my turn, now” He turned to face the camera and held his guitar tightly in his hands. “Get ready for the storm” he said. And he played an E minor chord.


What Really HappenedEdit




Disney PrincessesEdit