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Me and The Mall Cop: Difference between revisions
→Chapter 3: The Deciphering
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He nods humbly, as if this was not the first time he encountered such a reaction. Without a word, he grabs a scroll out of his pocket. It was crushed, of course, due to his weight. Nevertheless, he hands it to me, with a look of encouragement. Like a fragile origami, I carefully handle the scroll, and meticulously unravel it to see what is inside. The scroll was not written in English, rather in a foreign language in a typography I cannot recognize. "What is this? I cannot read it." I ask, hoping for an answer. He respond with an equivalent level of confusion. "I don't know. It is a language I am not familiar with. I gave it to you because I assumed that you would know what it means." I double-check the scroll, hoping if there was anything that I can recognize.
''⏁⍜ ⍙⊑⍜⋔⟒⎐⟒⍀ ⍀⟒⏃⎅ ⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⋔⟒⌇⌇⏃☌⟒, ⊬⍜⎍ ⏃⍀⟒ ☊⎍⍀⌇⟒⎅. ⌰⟟☍⟒ ⏃⋏ ⋏⍜⋏-☊⍜⋏⌇⟒⋏⌇⎍⏃⌰ ⋔⏃⍀⍀⟟⏃☌⟒, ⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏⋏⍜⏁ ⌰⟒⏃⎐⟒ ⎎⍀⍜⋔ ⌿⏃⎍⌰ ⏚⌰⏃⍀⏁, ⏃⌇ ⊑⟒ ⍙⟟⌰⌰ ⏃⌰⍙⏃⊬⌇ ⎎⍜⌰⌰⍜⍙ ⊬⍜⎍. ⊑⍜⍙⟒⎐⟒⍀, ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒ ⟟⌇ ⏃ ⍙⏃⊬ ⏁⍜ ⏚⍀⟒⏃☍ ⎎⍀⟒⟒ ⎎⍀⍜⋔ ⏁⊑⟒ ☊⎍⍀⌇⟒. ⏁⍜ ⏚⟒ ⌰⟟⎎⏁⟒⎅ ⎎⍀⍜⋔ ⏁⊑⟒ ☊⎍⍀⌇⟒ ⍜⎎ ⏚⌰⏃⍀⏁, ⍜⋏⟒ ⋔⎍⌇⏁ ☍⟟⌰⌰ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌿⟒⍀⌇⍜⋏ ⍙⊑⍜ ☌⏃⎐⟒ ⏁⊑⟒ ☊⎍⍀⌇⟒. ⊬⍜⎍ ⊑⏃⎐⟒ ⏁⍙⟒⋏⏁⊬-⎎⍜⎍⍀ ⊑⍜⎍⍀⌇, ⍜⏁⊑⟒⍀⍙⟟⌇⟒ ⏁⊑⟒ ☊⎍⍀⌇⟒ ⍙⟟⌰⌰ ⌰⏃⌇⏁ ⎎⍜⍀⟒⎐⟒⍀. ☌⍜⍜⎅ ⌰⎍☊☍.''
Then, epiphany! I knew a friend that was a linguist, who could probably decipher it. Subconsciously, I invite the mall cop inside. He followed without hesitation. However, before I call my friend, there was an important question that I forgot to ask. "Mr. Blart, why are you here? You're only a fictional character, played by a terrible actor." The second I asked the question, he makes a grimace, as if this is not a topic that can be trifled with. He sits down on my couch, with a whump and a creak, and reluctantly answers the question.
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== Chapter 3: The Deciphering ==
15 minutes pass, and Ryan has arrived in the household. He was still perturbed by Paul's existence.
"In times like this, I would ask 'This better be good, Karl.' But the fact that Paul Blart gave you a scroll with an unknown language, and you need me to translate it, I got nothing to say." He points at the scroll, which is resting on the coffee table. "Hand me the scroll."
"Hold up!" Paul exclaims, "Where is the Skittles?" His voice express exhaustion; his blood sugar was running low. Ryan shrug, "The stores are usually closed at this hour. Sorry." Paul, much to his chagrin, collapsed. I look at Paul for a while, as he rests his upper torso on my crushed couch, and then ask Ryan, "Is he going to be okay?" "I'm not a doctor, but I think he'll be alright. Give him some chocolate bars when he wakes up. Now, hand me the scroll." I did what he asked, and gave him the scroll.
He looks at it, with a surprised look. "This is a written language I have not seen for a long time. I do believe it is...yes, it is." He looks at me, with wide eyes. "This scroll is written in Tralbart, an ancient language that was estimated to be 100,000 years old. I barely know the language, as it is considered a dead language, but I'll try my best to decipher it."
He carries the scroll to my work desk, and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. Due to his memory issues, he carries a deciphering book, and opens it to the language in mind. And so began the translating process, which was not a short process. He studies it, and writes the translation, one character at a time. He speaks under his breath, almost inaudible. To me, he was a mad scientist in the world of translation. What felt like hours were only several minutes, and then, he was done. He picks up the piece of paper with the translation, and place it on the coffee table. "Here is your translation, Karl, and it's not good." I look at the paper, and my eyes widen. Immediately, I shook Paul to wake up. He slowly woke up, mumbling something about Skittles. I read it out loud.
''"To whomever read this message, you are cursed. Like an non-consensual marriage, you cannot leave from Paul Blart, as he will always follow you. However, there is a way to break free from the curse. To be lifted from the curse of Blart, one must kill the person who gave the curse. You have twenty-four hours, otherwise the curse will last forever. Good luck."''[[Category:TOTALLY NOT UNFINISHED U GUIZE]]
[[Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck]]
[[Category:Delusional retard that should be in an asylum]]
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