In a small city far away from here - over oceans and seas and mountains - lived Bruce. Bruce and his friends were among the laziest teens you could ever meet - Bruce was the laziest. The mere act of getting out of bed to get ready for school was too much work for Bruce. He always sleeps on the bus on the way to school (and missed his stop on more than one occasion) and sleeps all the way back.
Bruce's friends were no different. 'Rat' was as lazy, though he usually take his school work seriously. 'Drew only cared about things to put in his stomach, and it was a miracle that he was not obese. His other friends were more hardworking, Joel was the hardworker while Shri was the accident prone one. I mentioned Bruce's friends because they were the ones with him on that strange day.
Like any other day in school, the five friends decided to do what they usually do: Go into the Library and sleep. It was the perfect excuse: the teachers think they were in the library studying. For that specific reason, the Library was renamed by the friends to 'Limery.' (In this faraway land, the word 'lime' does not means a rather sour tasting fruit, but it is rather a verb, which means 'to hang out' or 'to chill', the word 'limery' is a joining of the words 'lime' and 'library.')
Unlike most conventional libraries, this one was very small; but like all libraries, the librarian was very strict. Therefore, as a routine and to prevent themselves from being caught, the five friends usually pile all the books from the fiction section unto the table, making a pile high enough to ensure that the librarian does not see them when they take their naps. This plot has worked in the past, with the exception of two occasions. Thankfully, on these occasions, only 'Drew was caught - perhaps owing to his large size.
Regardless of the size of the pile of books, however, the five friends usually take a large book and open it in front of their faces, so it would appear to passerbys that they are indeed stydying. On this particular occasion, Bruce chose from the huge pile a book called 'Shwangland.' (The pronunciation of this word is shh-wang-land.) And, as usual, he opens the book and went to sleep.
A sleep, some say, can be rated on the types of dreams you have: the worst types of sleeps give you nightmares whereas the best types of sleeps are dreamless. Bruce loved sleeping so much because most of his naps are dreamless; this was not going to be one of those times.
Bruce woke, but he was no longer in the library, he was in another room, one very similar to a library. Across from him were numerous tables, each with piles of pillow, and to Bruce's amazement, students sleeping! 'This was a good dream,' Bruce thought at first. Now it is not everyday that a young man falls asleep in school and dreams wonderful dreams.
In Bruce's waking memory (rather sleeping memory) the the only person he ever heard of that fell asleep for extended hours (and having dreams) in school was his uncle, whose name I dare not mention for certain reasons (A few of this unnamed uncle's closest friends are still unaware of this event and he is afraid that someone may read this article and recognize him,) who fell asleep while in a chemistry laboratory - dealing with dangerous chemicals. He woke four hours later to find the campus nurse with one of those torch-light thingy checking his pupils - apparently, he fell asleep for so long that the nurse thought he was dead.
Now Bruce got up and went to the librarian, who for some strange reason seemed deprived of sleep more than she should be. Her eyes were red and face droopy. Why she seemed deprived of sleep while helping the score of students find pillows and encouraging sleeping was beyond Bruce. But, never-the-less, all Bruce wanted was to find out from the librarian was why she was allowing such behaviours in her library.
'library?' Was her reply to the question. 'No, dear boy. This is a limery! But you have done a great evil - you have asked the feared question of "why." Now, i sense that you are not from around these parts, and so I'll call Professor Dumdat (or that is what the name sounded like) you give you a lecture on our little world.'
Great. Just what Bruce needed: A lecture in a dream while trying to cut classes in school. It was not long after that a rather large (especially around the middle) man of middle age, with short black beard and spectacles that made him look rather smart, came up to Bruce and introduced himself as Professor 'Dumb-dat'
'Well thats a certainly odd name, is it not?' Asked Bruce. 'Professors are smart people, surely you are not dumb?'
'Don't go believing what you hear.' Professor Dumb-dat said, and then added in a whisper, 'poeple here only thinks I'm smart. I leave them to their thoughts since I quite enjoy being a professor.' Then again he added, in his normal voice, 'although since accepting my newly found position, I have done a lot of great things. The stairs to the grade 8 class in this school was removed on my request. Now, only the smart ones can reach that classroom, and if they can't, then they don't deserve to be in it.'
'Well then, how does the teacher get to the class?'
'He doesn't. Because I am the teacher, and I haven't figured that part out yet.' Professor Dumb-dat added.
Bruce wanted to laugh at first, but before he had a chance to, Professor Dumb-dat began explaining things. 'The first rule that you should learn about to survive in this world,' Professor Dumb-dat began, 'is that it is absolutely forbidden to think, unless of course you're a professor, in which case you think for other people - at a certain charge, mind you. I charge an honest fee of five dollars per thought, which is what you owe me, by the way, since I've already had to think about the why my name was 'Dumb-dat' when i'm actually smart. And don't you dare think about becomming a professor, for I'd have you thrown into prison even as you do so.'
'You throw people in prison for thinking?' Bruce questioned. 'That's really stupid.'
'Exactly.' The professor answered. 'But we are merely following what our ancestors did in the past. If you read your history - which I would certainly like to share with you after I explain the rules - you would find that any great thinker of our past had been thrown into prison or even killed. Hence, it is only natural that we learn from the past - don't wait for for someone to get a great idea before we imprison them, do it at the first sign of a thought. This is why it is absolutely dangerous to ask the question "why."'
The professor list the short rules of the city (which were written in a rather large book with many repetition of the same rule.) What it boiled down to, as stated by rules 1, 2A, 31, 456B, 10953G and so on, was that thinking was prohibited, going to school was voluntary, you must walk on the right hand side of the road (the vehicles in this particular country drove on the left, as is customary in most of the world's countries,) litter must be placed in bins, and meals of vegetables must be followed by meals of meat (since they believed that we are what we eat, and without eating meat, we would all turn into plants.)
The professor then took Bruce to another part of the limery, apparently to meet the great "Hi" who would explain the HI-story of their land, which apparently was called "Shwangland." (Shwangland, according to professor dumb-dat was named after its first king who shwized then wang upon his coronation. Why the land part was added was beyond the professor's understanding.)
They reached the door of the historian, whereupon there were engraved the two letters "H" and "I" (Apparently the name of the historian - and it then became clear to Bruce that all the history of Shwangland may just end up being stories by Mr. HI.)
Have you ever watched a flock of birds flying in perfect formation? Do those animals even know where they're going, much less how to fly is such patterns? My point is, things that may otherwise seem unintelligent can sometimes surprise us with outrageous things, even when they are not expected.
The previous paragraph has nothing to do with this story - but I just placed in there to let the time go by faster and we would not have to hear what Mr. HI told Bruce. After all, history is a boring subject (or may just seem that way because I never did particularly well in it.)
The amount of knowledge you gained about the history of Shwangland from the last two paragraphs is exactly the amount that young Bruce gained. For although Mr. Hi, who Bruce now found out has a D.R. in history and is thus Dr. HI, (a D.R. in Shwanland is the equivalent of a PhD in our world, but since the people in Shwanland never understood exactly what that means, they simply stuck to D.R., after all, what does PhD have to do with being called a doctor?) (Also, Professor Dumb-dat had tried to explain what PhD meant in his own way - Pretty High Degree.) Yes, as I was saying, although Dr. HI spoke for a long time, Bruce simply stood there and almost fell asleep.
I would've described Dr. HI to you, but I can't, since I don't really know what he looks like. Bruce never really remembered his face, he wasn't paying attention to that. There was a peice of gum that was previously stuck to the floor of Dr. HI's office near the door, and is now stuck on the bottom of Bruce's shoe. This piece of gum has nothing do do with this story, but since it was the only thing that kept Bruce's attention during the lecture.
I think I've just spent four paragraphs talking about the lecture Dr. HI gave to Bruce, without actually saying anything of what he said. The reason being: I want you go get how boring the doctor was - so you get it now? Booooring.
There was one thing that Dr. HI said that Bruce heard, and it stuck with him. "Only boring people get bored. If you're bored and not boring, then it was someone else's fault." Of course the second part takes the essence away from the first, but it seemed an interesting point altogether by Bruce.
Eventually, Bruce left the doctor's office (and thankfully, left both Dr. HI and Prof. Dumb-dat behind as well,) and he continued his journey within his nice dream world, which by now was getting so long that Bruce wondered whether he was in a dream world at all.
Just as Bruce left the Dr. HI's office, and re-entered the limery, he was surrounded by Ms. Rohler. (If you're wondering how Bruce knew the lady's name was Ms. Rohler, that is because she was a teacher at the school Bruce went to - The headmistress of that school in fact.) Now, Ms. Rohler (pronounced Roll-her) was an irony, and that is why I said surrounded by, even though there was only one person next to Bruce. Ms. Rolher looked like a huge ball, her size is absolutely unimaginable (at least in comparison to Bruce.) (I also want to add that since this encounter with Bruce, Ms. Rohler is now happily married and is now Mrs. Rohler, or Mrs. Something-else, I'm not too sure.)
Anyway, Ms. Rohler did not do what she normally does: she would've sentenced Bruce to detention on the first sight of him (once Bruce got into detention for not cutting his hair, which was absurd, according to Bruce, who thought his hair looked cool.) Instead, Ms. Rohler simply told Bruce that he was being summoned by the King of Shwangland, King Leary.
And so Ms. Rohler accompanied Bruce towards the castle of the king, which surprisingly was just near the compound of the school. Ms. Rohlier then left Bruce, but not without a strong warning that his home work was already over-due (appart from being the headmistress, the very hard working, and thus unshwang-like, Ms. Rohler was also Bruce's Literature teacher, and she would be totally horrified at the manner in which this story was being written. Lucky, or rather hopefully, she will never get to read it - not implying that she will die, just hopeing that she never stumbles unto fiction wiki.)
Regardless (lets just hope Ms. Rohler does not discover the writer of this story and if she does, she leaves him alive and does not eat him) Bruce walked down the nicely lit hallways of the halls of the castle. Smartly dressed guards lined both sides of Bruce, all along the hall. They were wearing silver metal armor, and carried spears the length of their bodies. A small round shield lay at the foot of each guard, and this was because they were unable to hold them up - mainly due to the fact that they were sleeping, some snoring noisily.
Bruce finally reached the throne room. There, sitting on his throne in the far end of the room was King Leary, surrounded by numerous sleeping guards and a few of King Leary's counselors.
'Ah.' King Leary said, upon seeing Bruce. 'At last! The Other World person is hear.'
Upon hearing King Leary's voice, many of the guards woke up, and many of his counselors who were busy not paying attention to the king now sat attentively.
'Greetings King.' Bruce said, bowing a little (Bruce had never seen a king before, yet somehow he decided that this was the correct thing to do in the presence of one.)
'We need your help, outsider.' The King asked, almost immediately.
'What about?' Bruce asked.
'Well, the Frapps are about to attack my kingdom. They know that I have lost my Shwizweng, and so they are preparing to launch an attack.' The King replied.
'Your what!?' Bruce inquired, but decided not to press the matter of the weird sounding word. 'So I suppose that you want me to go to the Frapps and ask for peace?' (I tell you, this chap Burce has seen one too many movies, he can almost tell the unfoldment of a plot before the author even knows of it himself.)
'What!?' The King said. 'Good gracious no! You will be killed in a second. Frapps are not the people you mess with.' (Why people use the phrase people to mess with is beyond me, you should not mess with anyone - that's just nasty.)
'So, what do you want me to do?' Asked Bruce.
'All I need you to do is to find my Shwizweng, then I could properly defend my kingdom.'
'And where is your Shwizweng?'
'I'm not sure. All I can remember is that I had it at one time, and then it was lost. Maybe someone stole it.'
'Very well, your majesty. Maybe if you tell me what this thing looks like, I'll get started right away.'
'Well, thats the problem.' The king said. 'If I knew what it looked like, I would've searched for it myself. All I know is that I had it, and its lost - I have no idea what it looks like.'
Bruce sighed. This was stupid - How can you have something and not know what it looks like?
'I'm sorry, King, but I cannot search for something having no idea what it is.' Bruce said to the king.
'But you must.' The king responded. 'For having ideas of any kind are forbidden in my kingdom. Besides, if you don't, then I'll simple send you to the dungeons of this castle to live out the rest of your days.'
And so, for fear of not wanting to live out the rest of his days in a castle dungeon (he was allowed to leave in the nights, apparently.) Bruce set out on his journey to find King Leary's Shwizweng.
Bruce's first thought was to return to Professor Dumb-dat, for if he was going to look for something, he might as well first find out what that thing was - the professor was the only person who might know anything, though even that hope was just that, a hope.
The professor explain that a Shwizweng should not be confused with a Shwizwang, and that they are both nouns within the the language of the Shwangs. According to the professor, any shwang sounding name (originating, obviously from Shwangland) can be assumed to be something good.
When asked about the Frapps, the professor was taken back. He gave a hard look at Bruce. The Frapps, as the professor explained, was the shortened word for Frappsigated which was the opposite of Shwang. Concerantly, since anything shwang-like is good, then anything frappsigated was bad.
However, according to the professor, the only way to learn of the ways of the Frapps was to go visit their homeland, which was somewhere south in the land of Shwangland - though no one knew exactly where. Although the Frapps were war-like, they always take a liking to those from the other world, and so the professor was sure that they would not harm Bruce.
When asked whether he thought that the Frapps were the ones who stole the king's Shwizweng, the professor said that he wasn't sure, (since no one knew what that particular item was) although they very well may have.
And so Bruce took the long trek southwards, hoping to find the land of the Frappsigated.
Have you ever felt, when walking, that you are moving, your feet are moving, but you don't seem to get anywhere? This is exactly how Bruce felt. This, coupled with the fact that he was unsure where the land of Frappsigated was, made him quite uneasy.
After a while, he came upon a high concrete wall - I would spend considerable time and words describing this wall, but that would just waste the time of both you and I. Lets just say that this was was large, so that you could not go around it, and so high that you can't see over it.
Bruce was quite sure that this was the wall separating the land of Shwangs from the land of the Frapps - all he had to do was to find a way to go over (or around, or through) the wall.
Bruce ran his fingers along the concrete wall - I'm not too sure why. I think he was hoping to find a secret passage, or doorway, or maybe he just felt like it (which was a particularly weird feeling to have under any circumstances.)
Eventually, Bruce met with a a guard (or at least that was what it seemed like.) This particular guard was a pencil. He was a very common, yellow, hexagonal pencil. He carried an eraser in his left arm (which was stupid since his head was an eraser,) and another pencil in his right arm.
'Greetings, pencil,' Bruce spoke, 'I'm looking for the land of Frappsigated.'
The pencil looked at Bruce for the first time. 'Well thats just beyond the wall here. Although I cannot allow your access. I was sent here by the king to guard it, to make sure that no one enters of leaves Shwangland.'
'I understand.' Bruce said. 'However, the King himself sent me. I am to look for his lost Shwizweng.'
'Then, by all means, go!' The pencil ordered.
The concrete wall behind the pencil-guard opened up, much like a book opening its pages, until it looked like a large doorway. Bruce stepped in and it all became black.
Bruce woke. He was in the library, much as he was at the beginning of this story. The only difference was that it was much later, and it was time to go home.
A few days later, Bruce had forgotten all about his dream, until he was reminded of it by a very peculiar teacher in his school.
'Have you found the Shwizweng yet?' The teacher asked. (Bruce thought that this particular teacher looked very similar to the crazy Professor Dumb-dat.)