Writing Short story: Trolling Lewis (Updates with sequels)

[Gesplinkct]

(Spoiler warning for a particular non-gameplay glitch)



Tap tap tap tap...

In the distance, Lewis sees the farmer entering the town from her farm, her rushed footsteps the telltale giveaway that she is approaching.

Tap tap tap tap...

The farmer beelines towards Lewis, as if she knows exactly where he would be at this time today. Lewis hitches his best mayoral smile onto his visage, ready to greet her.

TAP TAP.

The farmer stops right in front of Lewis, deadpan and silent. Lewis looks at her curiously. She was wearing her usual plain white T-shirt, but only a pair of white underwear with red love hearts on them adorns her lower half.

Lewis's phony smile slides off absentmindedly, replaced by a mix of confusion and disgust.

"Farmer! Put some proper pants on and cover yourself up!"

She seems to understand what Lewis just said, and quietly and methodically takes one arm out of her backpack strap. Swinging her backpack in front of herself, she rummages through robotically, reaching deeper and deeper until she finds it. Lewis watches curiously as she pulls it out.

Lewis's jaw drops as a full staircase, complete with railings, squeezes its way out of the farmer's backpack. It shouldn't even physically fit in there. The farmer looks unfazed, her face remaining as stony as the staircase in her hands. She lifts the staircases above her head, executing a perfect overhead shoulder press.

Maintaining eye contact with her victim, the farmer places the staircases down in front of her feet with a thud. She then carefully steps onto the staircase and in between the railings stupidly.

Unable to produce anything meaningful, Lewis could only stare at the staircase as he stammers:

"Umm, I don't think those work as pants..."

A Chestershire Cat grin spreads across the farmer's face, her first change of expression since this exchange began, drawing Lewis's attention. She silently gestures for Lewis to look back down.

Lewis's eyes couldn't help but snap downwards. His face glows beet red in anger and embarrassment; his body engages a fight or flight response, but he is still unable to move. How the hell is this all happening?

The staircase has somehow transformed into a pair of shorts. An extremely familiar, purple pair of boxers with polka dots. Except, someone had gone the extra mile and sewn an intricate gold trim onto it.

The farmer takes the purple shorts off and hands them to Lewis, all the while grinning and and maintaining her nightmarish, wide-eyed stare. Lewis takes them with shaking hands. As the farmer parades another set of staircases over her head, Lewis turns around resolutely and marches home, determined not to look backwards, lest he sees something even more horrifying.

 

[DragonGwen]

THAT IS HYSTERICAL! Do Marnies reaction to it!

 

[Gesplinkct]

Totally didn't have Marnie in mind, but fortunately (or unfortunately in Marnie's case) farmer knows just the way to drag her into this too! I wrote the first piece with a mild horror theme in mind, so apologies if I lean into it bit further here



Marnie awoke from the sound of her roosters merrily announcing sunrise. A smile on her face, she lingers in bed for a while, savoring its warmth, reliving last night's little escapade with Lewis fondly. Eventually, the sun creeps through the window. Excited for the new day, she hops out of bed, lands on something on the ground and almost slips. Quickly grabbing her nightstand, she looks down to identify the culprit, her limbs still sprawled comically. Lewis, the goofball, had left his underwear behind! Chuckling, she recalls that they were Lewis's lucky pair.

"Guess I should open later and find Lewis first," Marnie thinks to herself, oblivious to the poor animals that may starve today due to her not opening shop. She folds up Lewis's purple shorts neatly and wraps it in a bit of paper before leaving her house, clutching the innocuous looking package.

As she arrives into the town center, she spots Lewis in the distance, chatting to her neighbor, the farmer. Perfect! she can just say hi and give Lewis his pants back. As Marnie meanders over, however, something seems off... Lewis is stiff as a statue. Marnie walks forward inquisitively, and sees Lewis snatch something out of the farmer's hands before storming off. Marnie squints her eyes and sees Lewis holding... his purple pants? Confused, she reassures herself that she's holding Lewis's pants; maybe the farmer happened to get him a new pair. Why did he look so angry then?

"Hey Lewis! Wait!" Marnie calls after him, but Lewis seems to be ignoring her.

Marnie's yell, however, attracts the attention of the farmer, whose head whips in Marnie's direction like a lion spotting an antelope.

"Haah!" A little whimper escapes Marnie. Though she wasn't sure what was going on, her most primal instincts provokes her heart to begin thumping loudly. The farmer swooped forward, wearing no pants but holding a purple pair above her head, arms eerily pointing straight up.

TAP TAP TAP TAP.

The farmer arrives in front of Marnie, grinning toothily. but her eyes contain no trace of the laughter. She tosses the purple pants at Marnie, landing on her head.

"No..." Marnie takes an involuntary whiff and has no doubt that this pair also belongs to Lewis.

The shorts slowly slides off her face and falls to the ground. Frozen in place, eyes wide in disbelief, Marnie watches as the farmer reaches into her backpack and produces an entire staircase. Then, as if she were magician in a horror show, the farmer steps into the staircase, where it instantly morphs into another pair of pants. She takes the pants off, throws them at Marnie's head again, and repeats herself - staircase, pants, Marnie's head. Staircase, pants, Marnie's head...

"AHHH!!!" Marnie's scream echoes throughout the Valley.

 

[Gesplinkct]

The farmer is back with a vengeance! Part 3: Trolling Pierre.



The shop had just closed, Caroline was out, Abigail was locked in her room. Time to relax. Pierre hurried eagerly to his bedroom and reached behind his bookshelf. Instead of the familiar shape of his stash, however, his hands closed upon a single sheet of paper. Confusion became panic as he read the note, made ransom style with cuttings of mismatched letters.

“I hAve uR STAsh.

LOSe grAngE oR elSe.”

After some agony, Pierre decided it was best to do as the note says. It would hurt his pride, but he didn’t need to win the grange display every year.

A week later at the Stardew Valley Fair, Pierre presented a paltry arrangement of shoddy fruits and vegetables. He had to convince Caroline that he knew what he was doing, all the while eyeing the other Fair attendees suspiciously. He couldn’t work out the culprit of the note, though he could swear Lewis and Marnie were shooting the farmer scared looks.

Inevitably, Mayor Lewis announced the farmer as the winner, her stall set up right next to Pierre. Lewis walked up to her to shake hands. The farmer smiled warmly and instead gave Lewis a light hug, making him look distressed. With dreaded realization, Pierre was certain that she was the blackmailer. Perhaps she got Lewis too. His suspicions were confirmed when her face poked over Lewis’s shoulder to lock eyes with him, her gaze icy and her lips sneering. He was so mad and wrapped up in plotting revenge that he didn’t even notice when she surreptitiously slipped his stash back into his grange display, only for Caroline to find it later when packing up.

The next day, Pierre slouched at his store counter, black circles around his eyes. He had fought with Caroline half the night and slept on the couch for the other half. Just as he thought his mood had settled at rock bottom, the farmer waltzed right in.

“Here to ruin my life some more?” Pierre whispered angrily as the farmer reached the counter so that others in the store wouldn’t hear.

The farmer simply shrugged nonchalantly and pulled out a box containing red cabbages and another small blue object. She fumbled and quickly withdrew what Pierre recognized as a mermaid pendant, shoving it into her pocket. Perhaps Pierre could use that against her somehow…

A cough brought Pierre’s attention back to the cabbages. They were fit for a king, freshness tickling the eyes and nose, even the bases manicured to perfection. The farmer gestured at them, indicating she wanted to sell them.

“Fine,” Pierre hissed, and handed over some money.

As if right on cue, Gus walked in.

“Hey Pierre! Strangest thing, pal. I wanted to make fish tacos for the Saloon’s special today, and I swear I had fresh red cabbages last night, but it’s like someone’s nicked them. Anyway, that’s what I’m here for – and I see you happen to have some right here! These are the freshest I’ve ever seen! Say, did you grow these yourself too?”

Realization hit Pierre once again as he glanced at the farmer. Gus’s attention was all on iridescent cabbages and not on them, so she took the chance to stare threateningly at Pierre, arms crossed.

“N-No. This is from the farmer. Her crop.”

“Hey! I should shop directly from you, eh?” Gus addressed the farmer. “No? Ah, you’re a sweetheart.” Gus chuckled as the farmer bashfully smiled and shook her head, palms directed at Pierre as if saying, “I wouldn’t dream of excluding my dear friend Pierre.”

“Hey Pierre, do let the wife know about tonight’s fish tacos alright? I know they’re her favorite…”

Gus chatted on, oblivious. Meanwhile, the farmer stepped backwards away from the counter, her everchanging face now in a vicious, bare-toothed grin. She pointed two fingers at her own eyes, and then wickedly rotated her wrist to point them at Pierre’s. Unfortunately for her, she stumbled into Abigail while walking backwards.

Revenge was here! Abigail was also disturbed by her parents’ fight last night and was extremely grumpy this morning. Pierre watched with vindication as Abigail exclaimed “Oi idiot! Watch where you’re going!” while reeling around to face the offending idiot.

However, the strangest thing happened. The farmer caressed Abigail lightly on the arm in way of apology. Abigail, instead of exploding, blushed and giggled as the farmer smirked at her shamelessly.

The mermaid pendant flashed in Pierre’s mind. He had lost. She was always two steps ahead.

“Pierre? Hellooo? Earth to Pierre?” Gus queried uncertainly.

 

[Gesplinkct]

On no, fourth victim...



BANG!

Harvey gasped and bolted upright, awakened by his front door being kicked open downstairs. His alarm clock showed 1:50AM. He toppled out of bed wearing his pyjamas, randomly snatched up a heavy self-help book titled “Why you have no friends” that he got for Winter Star for self-defense, and stumbled out of his room. Down the stairs, he saw a silhouette at his front door, hunched over and barely moving.

Something felt wrong. The doctor threw his book aside and bolted down the stairs, all drowsiness long departed. The farmer steadied herself on the doorframe with one hand while the other clutched at her stomach. Crimson blood drenched right through her shirt, coated her arm and was streaming onto the ground. Her mouth hung open, her breaths short and ragged.

Harvey wasted no time sliding his shoulder under her arm. He half-dragged her into the clinic, and slumped her onto one of the beds, wishing it was an operating table. He lifted her shirt. A deep slash across the width of her abdomen was hemorrhaging blood. The pure adrenaline in his veins was abruptly diluted by a strong dose of fear. A patient’s life was at stake, but he was only used to routine check-ups. Calm down, he thought. This wasn’t the kind of operation he had done before, but he knew the theory. Her life was in his hands!

A hand gripped his shaking arm when he turned away to grab his kit. When Harvey looked back, her head shook ever so slightly, her eyes slits, her ashen face devoid of expression.

“No! You are not dying on me!”

Her hand tightened while the other felt around in her bag. Oh no… was she reaching for a will? But of all things, she deliriously pulled out a massive wedge of cheese. Seemed he needed to administer sedation first. Her iron grip had different ideas though, now squeezing Harvey’s wrist painfully, forcing his eyes to lock with hers as they began to widen deliberately.

He could swear he saw her jaw unhinge before she swallowed the cheese whole.

The gap on her abdomen stitched itself together as if the muscle tissue had grown little fingers. The blood staunched immediately. All color returned to her face, along with a sassy grin.

The farmer hopped off the bed, thrust another piece of cheese and a sack of gold into Harvey’s hand, and gave him a peck on the cheek as thanks. She then skipped out of the clinic, leaving behind the mess of blood which hadn’t healed itself back into her body. It blanketed the ground, the bed, and a motionless Harvey.

His alarm clock showed 2:00AM. Thud! Something heavy fell against his front door.

 

[Hat Mouse Jr.]

I love this!!! I bet Shane might have a nice reaction when his tequila shots start tasting like toothpaste…sweet little farmer here would obviously be the LAST suspect

 

[Gesplinkct]

I love this!!! I bet Shane might have a nice reaction when his tequila shots start tasting like toothpaste…sweet little farmer here would obviously be the LAST suspect

Inspired by you! Shane is getting some.



Shane awakened with no motivation to open his eyes. Each day clung vaguely to the days before, like extracting a cotton ball from a sad, expired clump. He lay in bed for a while, willing the clock to tick faster or to fall back asleep; but eventually a grumble in his stomach made him begrudgingly get up for some lunch. It was the weekend and there was no work to distract him.

Shane killed the afternoon by listlessly browsing the general store, the only thing interesting being a brief, unexplained stare-down between Pierre and the farmer. When the clock struck five, he beelined towards the Saloon. Somehow, despite all his questionable habits, he never used ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ to justify day-drinking.

Drinking just for the buzz… Alcohol had lost all enjoyment. And recently, it tasted even worse. Shane took a sip, huddled in a corner of the bar, then pulled a face at the flat, waxy beer.

“Ugh… Pam,” Shane called across the bar, lifting his glass up, “is it just me or are these getting crappier every day?”

“Mmm, wha?” Pam was already plastered. It was a miracle she even responded.

Shane rolled his eyes and addressed Gus instead, “hey, where are you getting these? They’re terrible.”

“Sorry, I haven’t tried it. I’ve recently switched to locally brewed beer now that we have our very own farmer. I thought I would support local.”

What a wash. Not seeing the farmer to lodge a complaint with, Shane left the Saloon sober for the first time in months. He buried his face in his phone to order a case of beer online, not noticing the farmer peering at him from behind the Saloon trashcan while surreptitiously rummaging inside.

Two days later and for the first time in weeks, Shane eagerly sprung out of bed after the doorbell signaled the arrival of his beer delivery. However, none other than the farmer was crouched over the package! She had cut open the package and was replacing Shane’s beer with her foul ones. She froze momentarily when she heard Shane, eyes wide in apparent shock. Then in one continuous motion, she shoved the good beer into her backpack, pulled out a warp totem at random, and smashed it into the ground. Shane’s lungs, which were building up a tirade, deflated slowly as she disappeared before his eyes.

With tousled hair and still in pyjamas, Shane looked down glumly at the box. Next to it on the ground was a bottle of some red, fizzy looking drink. The farmer must have dropped it in her haste. He wasn’t going to give it back to that beer thief. Curiosity got the better of him, so he opened it and gave it a sip.

Three months later

Shane woke up nice and early and headed to the farmer. A quick knock on the farmhouse door and she was there with a huge grin and a heavy box of fruity drinks.

“Thanks,” Shane smiled, then petted his belly, “though they’re not doing wonders for my waistline.”

The farmer waved her hand dismissively and pointed to a blue bottle in the box.

“Hey, new flavor!”

She nodded encouragingly.

“You want me to try it now? Okay then.”

Shane cracked open the bottle and a concentrated blast of fizz escaped satisfyingly. One sip and he spat it all out on the ground.

“Toothpaste! Why!”

 

[Hat Mouse Jr.]

Inspired by you! Shane is getting some.



Shane awakened with no motivation to open his eyes. Each day clung vaguely to the days before, like extracting a cotton ball from a sad, expired clump. He lay in bed for a while, willing the clock to tick faster or to fall back asleep; but eventually a grumble in his stomach made him begrudgingly get up for some lunch. It was the weekend and there was no work to distract him.

Shane killed the afternoon by listlessly browsing the general store, the only thing interesting being a brief, unexplained stare-down between Pierre and the farmer. When the clock struck five, he beelined towards the Saloon. Somehow, despite all his questionable habits, he never used ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ to justify day-drinking.

Drinking just for the buzz… Alcohol had lost all enjoyment. And recently, it tasted even worse. Shane took a sip, huddled in a corner of the bar, then pulled a face at the flat, waxy beer.

“Ugh… Pam,” Shane called across the bar, lifting his glass up, “is it just me or are these getting crappier every day?”

“Mmm, wha?” Pam was already plastered. It was a miracle she even responded.

Shane rolled his eyes and addressed Gus instead, “hey, where are you getting these? They’re terrible.”

“Sorry, I haven’t tried it. I’ve recently switched to locally brewed beer now that we have our very own farmer. I thought I would support local.”

What a wash. Not seeing the farmer to lodge a complaint with, Shane left the Saloon sober for the first time in months. He buried his face in his phone to order a case of beer online, not noticing the farmer peering at him from behind the Saloon trashcan while surreptitiously rummaging inside.

Two days later and for the first time in weeks, Shane eagerly sprung out of bed after the doorbell signaled the arrival of his beer delivery. However, none other than the farmer was crouched over the package! She had cut open the package and was replacing Shane’s beer with her foul ones. She froze momentarily when she heard Shane, eyes wide in apparent shock. Then in one continuous motion, she shoved the good beer into her backpack, pulled out a warp totem at random, and smashed it into the ground. Shane’s lungs, which were building up a tirade, deflated slowly as she disappeared before his eyes.

With tousled hair and still in pyjamas, Shane looked down glumly at the box. Next to it on the ground was a bottle of some red, fizzy looking drink. The farmer must have dropped it in her haste. He wasn’t going to give it back to that beer thief. Curiosity got the better of him, so he opened it and gave it a sip.

Three months later

Shane woke up nice and early and headed to the farmer. A quick knock on the farmhouse door and she was there with a huge grin and a heavy box of fruity drinks.

“Thanks,” Shane smiled, then petted his belly, “though they’re not doing wonders for my waistline.”

The farmer waved her hand dismissively and pointed to a blue bottle in the box.

“Hey, new flavor!”

She nodded encouragingly.

“You want me to try it now? Okay then.”

Shane cracked open the bottle and a concentrated blast of fizz escaped satisfyingly. One sip and he spat it all out on the ground.

“Toothpaste! Why!”

You are a very good author!! that was hilarious