Eduardo and the Room of Doom - Chapter 1

Alrighty. I hate to be following the crowd here, but I'm gonna post (part of) my Territory #2 here, because Kit said so. My paper was a (completely zany and stupid (in the good way)) story about a guy named Eduardo. If you insult my stupid jokes, I will be forced to attack you with my e-Pitchfork o' Doom. Don't make me do that, guys. Here's the first chapter:

Chapter One – Eduardo, the Flugelhorn and Crumpets (also known as The Beginning) (or the Origination)

This, dear readers, is the tale of Eduardo.

Who’s Eduardo?

You will find out soon enough.

Does he have a last name?

No, he does not. Thank you for asking, though. Are there any more questions?

Nope. Carry on.

Good. On with the story.

Eduardo was born on a small farm, out in the hilly (it was actually more mountainous than hilly) countryside. His parents, named Melinda and Felipe, were really quite nice people, and aside from the fact that Felipe suffered from slight short-term memory loss they got along fine. Right away, they began to notice that their son could, well, do anything. And I mean anything. He could lift elephants on his pinky finger. Melinda and Felipe realized that there were no naturally occurring elephants in the hilly countryside, so they were forced to ask Eduardo how he had obtained them. He replied, at the tender age of two, that he had summoned them from Africa by playing Beethoven’s “Für Elise” on his flugelhorn. Flabbergasted, his parents retreated back into their cozy little cottage to sit around for a while, because no one really cares what the parents do in dramatic tales like these. Said Melinda to Felipe, “Darling, what’s a flugelhorn?”
“I believe that it’s closely related to the trumpet.”
“So it’s a thick buttery pastry eaten toasted with tea?
“No, that’s a crumpet.”
“Dear,” said Felipe, “about Eduardo…”
“Yes?”, Melinda.
“I think we should have named him Pancho.”

Well, this went on for quite some time – fifteen years, actually. Not this specific conversation, of course. I was talking about Eduardo’s astonishing behavior and Melinda and Felipe’s complete and utter amazement at their son’s very random and not-quite-plausible abilities.
But then, one fateful night, Melinda, Felipe and Eduardo decided to experiment with Eduardo’s powers, to test his limits. It was then that they discovered a horrible thing – a thing so stunning, so monumental, that you could have knocked them down with a feather. It seems that there was one thing – just one thing – that Eduardo could not do. Eduardo, dear readers, could not eat a crowbar.

A crowbar?!?!?

Yes.

But why a crowbar?

We’re really not quite sure. Maybe the old, overworked man in the sky who muddles around with the gene pool just got lazy. I have my team of top research scientists working hard in their laboratory right now, attempting find a reason. But sadly, the world may never know.
No matter how many times he tried, Eduardo just could not get his jaws around that big metal stick with a flat end that you use to lever things up with. His parents were even more flabbergasted than they had been when he first started doing anything. Over all of that elapsed time, they had truly come to believe that his abilities extended to everything in the near universe.
When he recovered from the shock, Eduardo was faced with a difficult decision. He could remain home with his parents and become a farmer, albeit a farmer with amazing abilities, or he could go on a journey to discover a way to eradicate his only inability. Said journey would be fantastic, entertaining, and highly appealing to publishers and/or English teachers. Because this is an adventure story, he went on the fantastic and entertaining journey. Because this is a comedy, he tripped on his way out the door.

----------------- End chapter 1.

Remember the pitchfork, guys.

--Ali