Tim's Jane Eyre

Listen to my story, dear reader.

My name is Jane Eyre, and I am an orphan living in London somewhere. Never having known my parents because they’re dead, I lived with my horrible step-mother. Oh, it was torturous to live with her and my half-brothers and half-sisters. All they’d do all day is hang me on the walls and poke my eyeballs with red hot irons. And when they’d finish, they’d tear me down and throw me in a tub full of mouth wash. It was brutal, dear reader, but I kept fighting for my right to not do anything about it.

Thankfully, fortune sent a man (a wonderful man!) to take me away from my childhood hell. Unfortunately, he took me to another hell, the Christian Academy for Gifted Young Zealots. There, I learned what other various forms of pain felt like, like the death of a young friend, although that could’ve been by my own hands. I’m not sure, on account I was in a delirious haze of self-pity and hate. And I was only five years old then!

However, through all the pain and the bitching about the pain, I managed to gain an education. Not only can I now speak French fluently, but I can teach that, math, geography, science, and English. With my hands tied behind my back. And while juggling chainsaws and balancing a plate full of otters on my nose. I also had x-ray vision and the power of flight.

With my newfound super abilities in place, and my crappy childhood out of the way, I weighed my options. Either eke out a living and make some good money with my skills, or go on an asinine romantic quest. So, I applied for a job with Mr. Rochester, a big ugly man old enough to be father. Right away, I fell madly in love with him. Large stinky men have always been my type. Especially when they’re as brilliant as Mr. Rochester!

But I couldn’t reveal my love to him. And he couldn’t reveal his! What a compassionate, intelligent man! What was revealed was that Mr. Rochester had been keeping his criminally insane ex-wife locked in his attic and guarded her with a trusted drunk -- another stroke of brilliance, Mr. Rochester! You complete me! I adore you! But despite your manly smarts and good looks, I had to leave you. Why? Because the life of a beggar woman is the life for me!

By an extraordinarily unbelievable and trite stroke of luck, I stumbled upon my would-be cousins house in the rain. This was the perfect chance to use my super powers! While standing outside of his home, in the teeming rain, I used my x-ray vision and animal sense of hearing to spy on the conversation being held inside. Utilizing my telepathy, I learned the occupants’ names, their exact locations, the books they’re reading, the food they’re preparing and the German they’re speaking. It’s a shame I couldn’t have used these powers for actual situations.

Over the course of a year or two, I learned Hindustani, a hilarious language, and broke the heart of my incestuous missionary cousin. After those astonishing accomplishments I left for Mr. Rochester’s residence, because my telepathic network picked up his signature. WHAT’RE THE ODDS?

After flying home (and boy, were my arms tired! Ha ha ha, humor! Ha ha ha-- cough! cough!) I discovered that Mr. Rochester’s gothic mansion was ruined in a fire! I quickly ran to his side and found him to be a blind cripple! Oh, if I have never left his side years before, this never would’ve happened to my one true love! I will stay beside you forever and ever! Come what may!

Like aliens they floated down in their saucer ships and leapt out with their tentacled lasers to protect my love I shot them with my eye lasers and we flew away together into space the end.