❯ Employee of the Month – Professional Football Player ( Chapter 5 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Disclaimer: Neither Katie nor I own any part of Artemis Fowl and Company. They belong to Eoin Colfer.
Artemis Fowl: Pro Football Player
“Juliet! I’ve finally decided I will pursue my childhood dream of becoming a professional football player!” Artemis ran in to the living room, brandishing a football wildly with one hand. Juliet was calmly sitting on the sofa watching wrestling on TV.
She grudgingly looked up from the TV. “Artemis, I hate to crush your dreams and all, but I don’t think you can do it.”
“And why not? I am, after all, accomplished in many other fields. I speak English, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, French, German, Latin, and Spanish fluently. Playing football shouldn’t be all that hard for one as accomplished and brilliant as I.”
Juliet finally faced him and raised one hand into the air. “Throw the ball to me. I’ll catch it.”
Artemis positioned the ball in his hand, pulled back his arm, and sent the ball flying… right over Juliet’s head, completely missing her hand.
Instead, it came crashing down and knocked the porcelain lamp off the end table to the right of the sofa. The lamp came crashing down on the off-white carpet, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Juliet glared at him, then calmly left him for the TV show, stating only “That’s why”
Artemis Fowl: Mall Santa
Artemis Fowl, once hailed as the world’s most brilliant teenager, sat in a spacious throne on a pile of fake, glittering, `snow.’ He was Santa Claus. And not just any Santa Claus, no, he just had to be the king of all cheaply paid Santa’s, the mall Santa. Beside him stood an attractive young woman, brown-skinned and green-eye. Her name, as her employee ID stated to the world, was Holly. A fitting name for one who played Santa’s best little helper. In other words, an elf. She looked just as happy as a baby without its mother, and without its bottle. This meaning that she was not very happy. By the sidelines stood a strong man, with short salt-and-pepper hair crowning his head. He looked as happy as the elf looked unhappy, which would be very happy indeed. Which is to say, he was laughing rather hysterically, though quite obviously trying to be unobtrusive and hide it. He was a bodyguard, trained to be cold and unyielding, showing no emotion. He was failing at his job rather horribly, as his hands were clasped to his sides, and he was wheezing through his laughter.
Now, to an informed child, this would be a normal Christmas. He would get in the line, which was shorter than usual, which was always a bad sign. Then he would wait his turn to speak to the rather pale and un-merry Santa, who was trying to fight his boredom. After he had spoken to this delusion the mall personnel tried to sell off as Santa, he would be passed a nice candy cane, from a young lady dressed up as an elf. Most people never noticed Butler, as he was standing rather far into the crowd and leaning against a potted plant.
But then, most people do not have the hearing it would take to notice that with every candy cane passed, Holly would whisper to the Santa. At the beginning, it was mostly encouragement. After all, Holly was a rather nice girl, who wanted to make everyone’s Christmas merry. Toward the time our little boy came in, it was more of a “How did I agree to do this?” And at the end of the day, it became a reminder of the painful ways that Artemis would pay for forcing her into this situation.
Most people do not know that elves coexist with humans on our beloved planet earth, and therefore would not have noticed that the charming young lady was actually one, as her wings were assumed part of an elaborate costume.
Also, most people are not trained to notice that Butler, the man wheezing over there next to the potted plant, was a bodyguard. But then, this was no normal mall. This was the mall to crown all malls, the plotting matrix that ruled the mall system, this mall was the mall created only to sell the people loaded goods, which would then bring the world under the reign of that oh-so-innocent boy hunched over a throne covered in not-so-bright tinsel.
And this was the reason that the oh-so-miserable elf Holly was handing out poisoned candy canes, and the reason the laughing Butler was putting drugs in everything he could reach, and that the oh-so-bored Santa Claus was sitting there talking to children. Or perhaps it was because they had been caught in one of their many schemes for money, and were now stuck doing community service. One of the two.
Artemis Fowl: Autobiography Writer
An old, white haired, stooped man sat in a sturdy chair in front of his desk. His desk was covered in various bits of junk, most of which he had written. In front of him sat a computer. More accurately, in front of him sat a photo album, a computer, a laptop, a handheld dictionary and translator, and palm, and an IPod Nano. Artemis Fowl was writing his own memoir.
Truthfully, he was trying to write his memoir. There is a difference, believe me. Small differences, such as he had not yet gotten past his first daring bank robbery. Not to mention that he had not yet begun to explain about the elves. However, that was fine with him. He did not want his book published until after his death. Moreover, he had that planned out too. He was going to die in a nice and orderly way. Actually, he was going to lie down in the tomb he had had made, right next to the one of his mate, Holly, and take poison.
Therefore, he had all the time in the world. A wasted man limped slowly into the doorway of Artemis’s office. “Butler, what do you want?” “Master Artemis,” the man attempted to stand straighter, “lunch is ready.” His master nodded distractedly, not wanting to pause from writing his memoirs.
“You can eat, Butler. I just need to finish these few pages.” A few hours later Butler reentered the room, “Master Artemis, it is time for your nap. Your physician told me to remind you everyday at precisely 3:00 in the afternoon.” Artemis glanced at the clock, which told him that, yes; it was 3:00 in the afternoon. “No wonder I feel so tired. I will retire immediately”
He got up rather feebly, not surprising for a man at the age of 94, and stumbled into his bedchambers, collapsing into his bed. “Good night, mother.” The old man mumbled sleepily, before drifting off into a sleep from which he would not wake.
Nevertheless, do not be sad, for he was reunited with his dear Holly, and Butler and Juliet finished his autobiography for him. It was an instant hit on booklists, and the pair made millions of dollars. Even though most people regarded the story as suspicious, and Butler and Juliet eventually had to classify the book as a work of fiction, the pair still retired happily, and lived the rest of their lives out with their respective mates.
Artemis Fowl: Boxer
“I don’t know why you chose boxing, Artemis!” Butler sighed, his charge was growing up… and rather horribly too! Artemis had recently announced that his goal of the year was to learn how to box. “If you had chosen Kung Fu, or Jujitsu, or even Archery, I wouldn’t have complained. But boxing!”
At the other end of the couch, Artemis sighed. “Butler, I have decided to pursue my dreams, can you blame for that? Perhaps I was not meant to be a criminal.” Juliet, caught in the act of entering the room, gaped. And managed to croak out an incredulous squeak. Butler and Artemis turned to her, surprised. They had not noticed her quite entrance.
“But, Artemis, you are a brilliant criminal mastermind!” Artemis sighed softly, and said, “I have already made up my mind, and nothing you can say will change. All I need is your help! I need to win a few major competitions in a year, and then I’ll go back to being a criminal mastermind.”
Butler’s eyes suddenly glinted, and he immediately said “Deal!” Then he took Artemis downstairs to their weight training courses. Now, all you have to do is lift this 100-pound weight! It’s simple, I’ve done it lots of times.” Artemis struggled to lift the heavy weights… and instantly dropped them, once he had managed to somehow push them over the edge of the table. On his feet.
Butler was sympathetic, “Oh well, let’s just go over to our punching wall, maybe you can try something lighter later.” Artemis nodded, to tired (already) to further complain. He was led to a brick wall, about 5 feet wide, 10 feet tall, and