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Frank and Bo pt. 1

Reader beware: This is easily the most ridiculous thing I've ever written. I got back from spring break not knowing I was supposed to have another short story ready, but I trudged ahead nonetheless. I combined two ideas to make this story. Dane, for one reason or another, told me to write about how Boo Berry, Franken Berry, and Count Chocula became friends. Kelly provided me with more sensible input, saying I could possibly make it into a Romeo & Juliet situation.

Not to be outdone, here are a couple of things to look for that were all me.

1) Notice the eerie similarities between my prologue and Billy Shakespeare's. I think he ripped me off.

2) Count how many breakfast puns you can find. I found 6. Also, look for allusions to other breakfast/cereal related things.

I don't really care what grade I get on this because I find it funny. I hate school. Enjoy...

Frank and Bo

Two dignified families, both guarding recipes treasured,

Lay in the city of Millsville, on hills too great to be measured.

From a bitter past and jealousies green,

Comes stunning betrayals where unwashed hands make an untarnished love come clean.

The offspring of adversaries, a pair of doomed dreamers choose their path and attempt to bury a rivalrous rouse.

They feared not the journey of ill-fated love, nor the anger from their elders’ mouths.

Now is the story of lovers bold,

And to patient ears it will be told.

“Mr. Oberry, I am so glad you could meet with me today,” Colin said as he extended his hand over the large oak desk.

“It’s my pleasure Mr. Chocula, please have a seat.” Mr. Oberry replied.

“I’ll be blunt, sir, I wish to marry your daughter,” Colin said.

The proposition caught Mr. Oberry off guard. He knew his daughter and Colin had attended several parties together, but he did not know Colin’s fascination with Bo had roots so deep.

“Listen, Colin,” Mr. Oberry started, “I know how puppy loves works. You know, I was young once.” Mr. Oberry chuckled. “But Bo is far too young to be married, she’s still a teenager!”

“I respect your opinion, Mr. Oberry, really I do, but Bo is mature beyond her 18 years. Surely, you know this,” Colin said.

“You are right about that,” Mr. Oberry said, “but I think both of you are still too immature to realize what a responsibility marriage is.”

“But sir—” Colin protested.

“Colin, relax. The Mrs. and I are having a party tonight to celebrate the third quarter victory over the Enberrys. Why don’t you stop by and we can discuss it there. I have much work left to finish.”

“Yes sir,” Colin said dejectedly. “I will see you tonight.”

In truth, Mr. Oberry hadn’t work to do, but a celebration to plan. Mr. Oberry’s father and his father before him had been in competition with the Enberry family for years and anytime gloating was in order, gloating was to be done. The rivalry goes back further than history books can record. Legend has it that the Enberrys and Oberrys were once friends and business partners who revolutionized the breakfast industry. Together, they had created a marshmallowy morning treat, but were starkly divided on which flavor should be added. The Enberry family had farmed strawberries for years, for them the answer was obvious. But the Oberrys disagreed, for their ancestors had overcome years of famine by feasting on blueberries, the only available sustenance. After a caustic split, the newfound rivals each started their own cereal company on opposite sides of the valley city, Millsville. As years passed, the competition became more and more personal. Smear campaigns beget guerrilla advertising tactics which beget criminal mischief and violence. Since Mr. Oberry took over the company in the 70’s, sales had fluctuated with the tastes of the city’s residents, but his company had been seeing strong numbers recently and he sensed the Oberry stock was on the rise.

On the other side of Millsville, young Frank Enberry had been locked in his room for days. It worried his father so much that Mr. Enberry had taken the day off with the sole intention of curing whatever ails Frank was suffering from.

“Please son, tell me what’s wrong. Your mother cries herself to sleep every night wondering why you refuse to leave this room,” Mr. Enberry said.

“Then I guess her heart is broken like mine,” Frank said as he continued to stare at the floor.

“A broken heart? Whatever do you mean? I don’t recall you ever mentioning a girl,” Mr. Enberry said.

“I didn’t tell anyone because I was afraid that our love would be jinxed,” Frank said. “But she has moved away. It’s like she doesn’t even exist anymore. I don’t know how I can go on.”

Mr. Enberry smiled and put his arm around Frank. “Son, there are other girls out there, you know? Finding another one will not be difficult, for you are an Enberry! Enberrys always survive!”

In a stereotypical display of adolescent angst, Frank started to cry as he yelled at his father. “I don’t want to survive! I only want her back!” And with that, Frank dashed out of the house and ran down the hill into the city below.

His frustration and fury quelled halfway into Millsville and Frank decided to rest alone on a park bench. As he sat, couple after couple walked by hand in hand, laughing and talking. Frank Enberry grimaced as his loneliness ate him alive.

“Excuse me,” a sweet voice said while tapping him from behind. “May I sit next to you? I can’t seem to find an empty bench anywhere.”

Frank turned his head and looked up, right into the blue eyes of a beautiful woman he had never seen before.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. Frank slid over and instinctively fixed his hair and straightened out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“What brings you to the park?” Frank asked.

“I had to get away from my mother,” she replied. “Don’t parents just drive you crazy sometimes?”

Frank smiled and agreed. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Bo. Bo Oberry,” she said. “What’s yours?”

Acting on impulse, he began to reply. “I’m Frank En…” But he stopped. Her name had finally sunk into his brain and he knew instantly why he had never seen her before.

“Frank what?” she asked.

He tried to salvage his mistake. “Uh, Frank En…stein,” he finally said.

Bo hadn’t realized what had just happened, much to the pleasure of Frank. As they talked, Frank fell more in love with Bo with each word she spoke. He soon was unable to remember even the name of his former love. She told Frank how her mother wanted her to marry a man named Colin, who she had accompanied to several business functions merely to please her father. Colin worked for her father and was a whiz with numbers, something that earned him the nickname “Count.” Colin was a valued member of the company, so Bo complied when Colin asked her to be his date.

“Count Chocula?” Frank said, scoffing. “Sounds like the name of a serial killer.”

Bo laughed and joined in on the ribbing. “He is a little odd,” she said. “He wears capes instead of coats and his house looks like a cardboard box.”

As they enjoyed each other’s company, it seemed that Bo was falling for Frank, too. The only difference was that she was falling in love with someone who wasn’t real. Frank was careful not to give away his identity and in doing so, had fabricated an entire life for “Frank Enstein.” How would she react when it came time for Frank to reveal his true last name? Frank didn’t care about his father’s rivalry, maybe she didn’t either. But what if she did care? Frank went back and forth in his mind and wasn’t thinking when Bo invited him to her parent’s party.

“Of course I’ll go,” he said.

“Great! I’m going to head home and help set up, I’ll see you tonight,” Bo said.

As he watched her walk away, his heart and brain battled for supremacy, but he already knew who would win.