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Some random comical sketches


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“Stop! Thief!”


The wide feet of the young Skadi flapped against the dirt road as he ran through the Jungle village. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at the Agori trader who was yelling at him. He yelled right back:


“that is RACIAL PROFILING! So help me, I SWEAR to Skadi-Nui, I will report you for hate-crime! OUTTA MY WAY TOHUNGA!” Shoving aside a very confused and rather offended Matoran, the Skadi turned his head to face the road ahead of him, tightening his grip on the Thornax fruit he had just stolen.

As the spiny rogue sprinted through the small village and out of sight, the abashed Agori vendor fell to his knees in the middle of the street, flinging his face up towards the sky as he screamed at the injustice of his life.







~Chapter 1: Sweet Skadi-Nui What Have I Created!?~


The young thief did not stop running until he was hidden in the sanctuary of the trees. The thick jungle canopy stretched over the Skadi, who lay where he had fallen after tripping over one of the many vines surrounding him. A silent figure watched from the shadows. Regaining consciousness, the Skadi scrambled to his knees and caressed the fruit in his hands.


“It’s ours. Ours alone. My precious...”


A hauntingly sad violin began playing from somewhere, but it did not last long. A portal to another dimension opened and from it stepped Mr. Howard Shore, who promptly walked up to the Matoran who was playing the violin, handed him a court summons, grabbed the violin out of his hands, and delivered a swift kick to the small figure right in the Zamour spheres. As the composer walked back to the portal, the Matoran lay on the ground and groaned in pain.


The Skadi looked up. Something was wrong. Something unusual was happening. In one swift movement he stood, spun around, and hurled the Thornax fruit with all his might at the moaning figure. As the Matoran lay there moaning in pain, he eventually saw the projectile hurdling at him and his moan turned into a scream:


“ooooooohhhhhhh.....WAAAAAAAGGGHUUUUAHHH!!!!!!” *BLAM!*


The extremely overripe Thornax fruit struck the Matoran and exploded on impact. When the dust cleared, the Matoran had disappeared, utterly blown apart by the force of the fruit. The trunk of a nearby tree had been broken in half by the blast, and a figure who had been hiding in the branches fell to the ground, landing in complete silence on his face. The Skadi stared, confused (more so than normal), at the odd figure who made no noise. The figure clad in green armor stood to his feet and dusted himself off. The Volitak he wore ensured he made absolutely no noise whatsoever. The Toa of the Green looked up and noticed the Skadi watching him. He froze and his eyes widened. The two figures stared at each other. Slowly, very slowly, the Toa raised one foot into the air, stretching his leg out behind him. He gingerly put it down and leaned backward into a wide step, still moving extremely slowly. He raised his other foot, still moving incredibly slowly. He was very gradually creeping away from the Skadi, who called towards the disappearing Toa


“I can’t hear you, but I can see you.”


The Toa froze again. Turning off his mask power, he suddenly pointed to the sky behind the Skadi, crying out with an obviously fake gasp.


“What the is that thing in the clouds!?!” The Skadi, confused, turned around to look at the mysterious thing.


The Toa of the Green spun around and booked it back to the village. He forgot to turn on his mask power, and thinking others couldn’t hear him, he chanted to himself in a sing-song voice: “sneaky sneaky sneaky sneak sneaker snicker sneaky...”


Three hours later the Skadi shook himself and suddenly grew suspicious. “Wait a second... You can’t see the clouds from here... and what’s ?” The abashed Skadi thief fell to his knees in the middle of the jungle, flinging his face up towards the sky as he screamed at the injustice of his life.









Elsewhere a lone member of Keetongu’s species stiffly staggered forward in exhaustion as his massive burden weighed heavily on his shoulders and back. He was exhausted and barely had the strength to move, but while he stayed still, the weight of his passenger made his feet sink deeper and deeper into the mud: to stay still was to be swallowed by the murky sludge.

His passenger was a Tahtorak, sitting hunched over on the being’s shoulders. The great beast leaned forward and hissed at the orange figure.


“Not so fun the other way around now is it?”


The weary being tilted his head back and cried out in agony: “I’m sorry for wearing spurs!”


The Tahtorak pulled out a massive cowboy hat and slapped it onto his spiny head. “YEEEE HAAAW!”





Somewhere in Antarctica.....

In the middle of the howling wind an interdimensional portal opened up, staying open just long enough for a very confused and scared Mantri-Nui to fall out into the snow. As the portal vanished behind him, the Mantri-Nui (who had somehow become sentient as a result of his dimensional journey) cried out.


“Where am I!? What is this place? Where’s papaw Karzahni!?” The poor dejected creature began to sob as he sat in the snow, confused and alone.


He heard a noise nearby, and looked up to see a curious penguin shuffling over to the Rahi. The Mantri-Nui stared at the bird in confusion, mouth agape, shrugged his shoulders, and hopped onto his feet, waddling over to the penguin. The Rahi puffed out his chest and put on a suave, debonair grin.


“Hey baby, wanna feel my Cordak blasters?” The Mantri-Nui started flexing for the perplexed penguin. 


The penguin ambled over, not to flirt, but to see if this strange new creature was edible. 






Gresh sat on a log beside Turaga Matau in the jungle of Bota-Magna. “Thank you for teaching me about your people Turaga” Gresh said reverently. “The jungle seems so much more... alive somehow now.”


The old Turaga smiled sagely towards his pupil. “Singsong happy-smile Gresh; you are spirit-blessed in life-dawn to quick-learn think-talk ways of tree-bright Le-Koro. To deep-think in deep-wood will spirit-lift what we crave-need. It makes me happy to see you proud-stand in the deep-wood.”  


Gresh smiled back and closed his eyes, listening to the noises of the jungle. The two of them sat quietly together, content in their company. Gresh slowly opened his eyes, a confused look on his face.


“Wait, you said ‘makes me happy’...”


“A good student will ever-remember what his teacher says.” The Turaga replied, still smiling.


Gresh turned to him, now looking even more confused. “But that wasn’t Treespeak. You should have said ‘I am happy-cheered’, right?”


The Turaga froze, his eyes wide open, unwilling to look at his student, tense as a coiled Doom Viper. Gresh continued.


“Wait, have you just been screwing with us this whole time!? Do you know how long it took us to figure out what you were saying!?! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” Gresh now stood before the guilty Turaga, pointing an accusing finger at the former Toa.



Slowly Matau looked up at his student, still stiff and tense. He paused. “Well...”


The smaller figure stood up on the log, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I must have ever-forgotten the—SMASH-BASH!”


The Turaga flung a rock at Gresh’s head, hitting his helmet with a *KONG*, and knocking the Glatorian to the ground, unconscious. The Turaga hopped down to the jungle floor and began quickly hobbling away as fast as he could, kicking Gresh’s head as he passed. “Crash-bang.”


The jungle was once again quiet as the warrior lay peacefully on the ground.


Behind the log, a green-armoured quietly figure crept by, whispering through his Volitak: “Sneaker sneak sneak sneak sneak snack sneaky sneak.”   


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