Gerald liked chocolate biscuits, and they liked him. They had a somewhat mutually beneficial relationship. They gave him sustenance and he gave them a home, it was that simple. What the biscuits didn’t know, was that their new home was only temporary.
The biscuits sat fidgeting in their plain, beige tin, eagerly waiting to be chosen. Right on time, the gigantic door gave way to a blinding light, revealing a grey, drooping face. As usual, a biscuit was lifted out of the lidless tin to cries of, “You lucky bastard!” and “What makes you so special?!” Only the chosen biscuit, a chocolate digestive, remained quiet.
Gerald had chosen well. This biscuit was perfect. It hadn’t broken or acquired the dusty crumbs that always seem to litter the bottom of the tin. This biscuit, was King of the Biscuits! The idyllic digestive gave Gerald an ego boost. The skill that it took in choosing this King of Biscuits deserved to be rewarded in the form of another biscuit. In all his 50 years, he had never had two biscuits in one sitting, but today was special, for he had chosen the perfect biscuit. He placed The Biscuit King between his lips and tipped the tin with one hand as he readied his right hand, his grabbing hand.
The biscuits stared in horror. Larry, their, until recently, friendly neighbour, was being eaten alive. They watched as he kicked and screamed, trying desperately to wriggle free. A claw circled above the tin, waiting to strike. Behind the ten-or-so digestives a pink wafer named Lady Crawford, that had lived in the tin for almost a year in silence, spoke.
“You’re all fools! What do you think that monster does when it takes you from the safety of the tin? No biscuit has ever returned, don’t you find that strange? It’s because he eats biscuits!”
With that, Lady Crawford cackled pitifully, her stale mouth finding it difficult to open fully.
The biscuits sat in shock for a moment. Then, all of a sudden, they had a brainwave. They must fight. They must survive. Larry had already suffocated in the monster’s mouth, and so served as a catalyst for the biscuit uprising. Anger surged through the tin.
The biscuits unleashed anger and fury in all directions, flinging themselves at the wall of the tin. The tin quivered and clanged like a bucket left outside in the hail. After a few seconds in which they achieved nothing, the biscuits stopped, realising their efforts were futile. In the defeatist silence, Lady Crawford spoke once more. She could manage only one word before she crumbled into dust, injured from the anarchy that had just taken place. That one word? “Together.”
Every biscuit had an epiphany. Alone, their strength was nothing compared to the mighty metal wall of the tin, but together they were strong enough. With one last push, the biscuits hurled themselves at the wall facing the monster. It toppled.
Gerald had been stopped in his tracks when he saw the tin quiver. He thought a mouse or rat had got in and was eating all his biscuits, which both confused and annoyed him. After about 15 seconds of staring blankly at the tin, Gerald had plucked up the courage to peer in. He edged closer to the tin which had since stopped clanging and jerking. As he got to within 3 inches of it, the tin flung itself at his face, busting his nose and causing him to reel backwards. Larry the Biscuit King fell out of lips and broke on the floor, dusty guts splattering the grey tiles. Gerald reached out for anything to grab onto to steady himself, but could only clutch air. He fell and hit his head on the worktop behind him with an almighty thwack.
The biscuits rejoiced as they fell onto the lifeless body of the monster that now lay lifeless on the cold floor. They had defeated the the evil tyrant that had killed Larry. That night, they celebrated Larry’s life and their uprising that would go down in history.
Prepare to be Bloggled! 