Some characters have no template. But sometimes I'll use an already developed character, and use them as my template. For instance, I used Gollum as the template for my bad poetry contest entry. I pictured a frustrated ADHD Gollum trying to do Dr Seuss. So he starts out with a demented Seuss like poem, then he gets sidetracked and breaks down into a ranting diatribe railing at the readers.
So, it winds up with Gollum sounding a little like a sicko Cat in the Hat. If someone doesn't know this, they might just think I was insane when I wrote this.
"Eye of a pig
Tick in a twiddle
Move over dog
you're starting to piddle
Eggs that have rotted
Boils filled with fungus
The tongue of a turd
Sprays bad poems among us"
Bad, you want bad? Well happy or sad-Why give you what you want? That would be good, which is bad in your twisted confusing world. I should give you my best, not my badest, my goodest, not my
stinking saddest..., that would serve you right!
Just a vendictively nice poem of love, and niceness,
and warm fuzzy stinking feelings. That would send you
bad-poem lovers a message,
"Go home! You're not going to get what you want...Ha, ha. So there!"
No, no bad, redundant, stinking vermin poems for you!
You wan 'em bad, don't you? Well, pigs eyes in a bowl of dove's dung, you got em!!
Scum from the plagurized pond of the belly lint of a
giant's rotting carcass, dripping on this page, and ooohhh
to think you love it, lick it, roll in it, and even come back for more.
No, don't pretend to have an ounce of sanity, because
if you are here reading this bane drivel, you are insane
"Always insult the crowd," that is what I say! "Always make them feel lower than the blisters on the bottom of an ant's toe."
Why are you reading this puss? Are you one of those puke for brains? What's the matter with you? Have you no dignity? Are you enjoying this displeasure?
Of course, "Yes, insult them, insult them...Gollum, Gollum
Yes, they want's the precious poem...Gollum, Gollum...well, they can't have it!
"No precious poems for you..." he rages,"Filthy Hobbitses...No...they're mine, my own, all of them, my precious." Ah, admit it! You are not stuck, glued here to your seat, doomed to read only rotting words carved by innocent fingers on the inside of this cesspool of filth, in the bowels of a wart-toad, but here you are anyway.
Breath the deep rising excriment as you read the words on the walls. You were tricked into coming, "Oh, poor Smeagle...master's tricksy, but Gollum will make them pay. He tells the masters he has a good poem for them, exciting..."Change the world with my words," he says! "Save the hobbits from Mordor," he says."Gollum! Gollum!"
No, his face is becoming clearer, it's not Gollum at all...now I see, it's you!
"Hannible, no not here...no, not here...I see your twisted mind again, and how you toy with poor Agent Starling. Go away, you can't have your way here. Oh, I see! She can't take her eyes off your poem. Makes sense. She thinks she'll solve riddles in the dark, solve mysteries, reading your sick pathetic words, which you calously write through the warden's pen. Oh, those sharks eyes.
No, the lambs are not silent in these halls, I thought as I watched, him, but he would not let go.
"No, Hannible, let go of its head...no, stop...
Is this bad enough for ya? If not, come again and be even more disappointed!