The Tamagotchi Guardian
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- Apr 26, 2008
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Sorry about the slight delay but I have been very busy lately. Anyway, you remember Baines? (If not see Page 3 of Tamagotchi Fan Fiction). Well just imagine it is one year later and Steven (who was convinced he was a ghost last year) and some of his friends are trying to get their own back on the crew who planned the joke last year. This is when the first two paragrahs of Part 1 in January come in handy as Steven is being Baines and this is the beginning of the story.
Baines walked down the candle lit hallway, unaware of what was about to jump out at him. He studied each painting, commenting on it to himself. Baines was a massive critic. There was nothing you did he couldn’t criticise. He was criticising to himself, each individual painting. I don’t know why he did it. Nobody was there to be impressed by his unnecessary criticising but he still did it. He also commented to himself on the unstable stone walls, the polished marble floor and the bathroom tiled ceiling. To be honest, nobody actually EVER looked at him or listened to him when he criticised things. You could say he did it for his own benefit, you could say he did it because a loner, a serious loner.
He kicked the loose pieces of marble as he strolled, proudly down the hallway. His uncontrollable habit began to take over him. Not just the criticising, but the coughing and spluttering. He choked on particles of air before tripping over. It was like he was trying to impress somebody. But there was nobody around. Maybe, as I said he is a loner. Or maybe he was trying to communicate, communicate with the Gods.
Baines walked down the candle lit hallway, unaware of what was about to jump out at him. He studied each painting, commenting on it to himself. Baines was a massive critic. There was nothing you did he couldn’t criticise. He was criticising to himself, each individual painting. I don’t know why he did it. Nobody was there to be impressed by his unnecessary criticising but he still did it. He also commented to himself on the unstable stone walls, the polished marble floor and the bathroom tiled ceiling. To be honest, nobody actually EVER looked at him or listened to him when he criticised things. You could say he did it for his own benefit, you could say he did it because a loner, a serious loner.
He kicked the loose pieces of marble as he strolled, proudly down the hallway. His uncontrollable habit began to take over him. Not just the criticising, but the coughing and spluttering. He choked on particles of air before tripping over. It was like he was trying to impress somebody. But there was nobody around. Maybe, as I said he is a loner. Or maybe he was trying to communicate, communicate with the Gods.
