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"That takes care of business matters; now onto…? Ah, yes…"
Mr. Andross Bowman, executor of the Krazoa estate, glanced at the small attendance gathered in court. Sobs from one corner indicated the deceased's sister was here, with her husband; paradoxically, condescending chuckles from the other stated a particularly unwholesome individual of questionable character was also present―the deceased's brother.
This was going to be interesting.
Mr. Bowman cleared his throat and went on:
"As the executor of Mr. Krazoa's estate I have been empowered to read Mr. Krazoa's Last Will and Testament―"
"Well get on with it, the bar's open soon," the brother, James, sneered. "Heheheh!"
A particularly loud wail, grating on Andross' ears, erupted just then.
"Oh poor dear Sabre―waaaa!" Krystal McCloud cried, wringing her hands on a sopping handkerchief. Her husband kept patting her back, saying, "Oh, there, there Kryssy…"
"God, how predictably boring," straight-laced nephew Panther Caroso dismissed with a supercilious gesture. Beside him was a fashionable lady who bore a politely sorrowful smile. "I never worked for a kinder man," Mrs. Reinard said, sounding a touch snotty.
"If we're all seated," Andross cut across them, "I shall proceed with the reading." He pushed his spectacles higher upon his nose and glanced down to the will. Poor bastards.
"I knew it," came Panther while James just snickered.
"I, Sabre Randorn Krazoa, being of sound mind and body―"
"That's a laugh!"
"―do hereby divide up my considerable estate as follows. To my overly emotional sister, Krystal―"
The person so named immediately descended into a long drawn out wailing that, under any other circumstances, would have evoked pity and sympathy for her loss; but merely aggravated the lawyer further, the others varying in their reaction. Her husband apparently thought enough was enough and said, "Kryssy, darling, he's talking about us."
"Oh." She straightened up, composed herself, and looked attentive―further making the lawyer feel as if he were in a badly acted play.
"―who grubbed with her husband, Fox; grubbed for everything they could get from me, and then cried crocodile tears when I needed sympathy―" And here he looked askance at them: both appeared to be more than slightly stunned at those words. "What?" Krystal managed.
"To Krystal I leave―a boot to the head."
"A what?!"
She looked outraged―right before a boot swang outta nowhere and clocked her on the overly emotional nose.
"Ow!"
As the room erupted into laughter―actually just the snide and sarcastic brother; the nephew just sniffed―Fox attempted to soften the blow, cradling her. "Kryssy, are you okay―"
"And another boot to her wimpy husband, Fox."
Another boot followed the same likewise path.
"Ow!"
James was sniggering; he apparently didn't like his overly emotional sister or her wimpy husband. Time to change that, Andross thought. "This is an outrage!" Krystal yelled. Andross merely cleared his throat.
"Ah, but still, you are my sister, you have both admired my Super Diamond, and since I no longer need it―"
"Oh, dear Sabre, he's too kind!" Her husband murmured compliant agreement.
My, how quickly they changed their tune.
"―I bequeath another boot to the head."
A boot clocked her in the exact same spot, eliciting a screech.
"And one more for the wimp."
Another boot clocked Fox, who attempted to cover his head and failed.
"Next, to my alcoholic brother―"
"Hey, I don't want no boot to the head," James hastened, ducking behind his chair.
"―to dear James, who has never worked a day in his drunken life…"
"I'm coverin' up my head!"
"―I leave my wine cellar and three crates of my finest whiskey."
"Really?"
"And a boot to the head."
Before James could duck a boot sailed out and bonked the back of his head, causing him to hit the chair also.
"And another for Krystal and the wimp!"
Both so addressed took one look at the executor, who was pointing at them, and ducked behind their chairs; alas, two boots sailed out, one after the other, and hit them hard.
"Next, to my know-it-all-nephew Panther―"
"This is so predictable," the nephew said, wearing a football helmet and holding a riot shield before his face.
"―I leave a boot to the head."
*Smash!*
"Ugh, I knew it." That boot was made of concrete, and dropped straight from above.
"And one for Krystal and the wimp!"
Boots dropped down and hit the now cowering pair. Screeches and yells respectively told how hard the impacts were.
Andross cracked his back, his neck, and knuckles, and glanced down at the next list of the will. The courtroom was somewhat in chaos. Krystal and Fox were nowhere to be seen, hiding in their box, afraid that if they took another step a boot would hit them; James was piling every available chair over himself while Panther picked himself from off the floor, looking more than a little dazed, concrete bits scattered about him.
"This takes care of family obligations." Andross looked up and made eye contact with the only other non-booted person in the room. "And now, to Mrs. Reinard―"
"Oh, uh, I don't want nothin'!" she cried, alarmed, quickly taking a defensive position, which involved holding her handbag over her head.
"―who took care of me faithfully these many, many years, who cared, made me laugh, brought me tea…" Andross read with a blank face, meeting her eyes every so often; she started to look more relaxed by the word.
"Oh, I didn't mind," she said modestly.
"To Mrs. Reinard I bequeath―a boot to the head."
Her face changed from pleased to shocked―and a boot enforced that to stunned.
"And one for Krystal and the wimp!"
More yells as more boots dropped on them―no matter how hard they tried to protect themselves, the footwear found a way to hit them.
"And to my cat Mittens I leave my entire, vast―boot to the head."
A moment of silence dropped―James looked around from within his fortress of chairs; Reinard nursing a purpling bruise glanced fearfully at the door; Panther looked groggy; and Krystal and Fox dared not show themselves.
Andross cleared his throat.
"And finally to my lawyer, who has helped me on this will, I leave not a boot to the head…" Andross's eyes narrowed, "but a rabid Tasmanian devil, to be placed in his trousers?!"
A great snarling and hissing erupted and Andross started hopping up and down as his legs, thighs, and quite possibly testicles were attacked by a rabid animal so named in the will, which also happened to be Mittens (forgive the disparity in species, Mr. Sabre was not of sound mind).
"Ooohhh! Oh, huh huh huh huh, and, and…and I leave my entire estate of ten million Canadian dollars to the people of Venom so they can afford to move somewhere decent! Huuuuh!"
The rabid Tasmanian devil ravaging his manhood disapparated, and Mr. Andross, executor of Mr. Krazoa's estate, slumped forward in relief. He was definitely going to be feeling this for the next month or three.
"Is that it?"
"That's all?"
"That's disgraceful!"
"There's… one last thing for everyone."
James immediately ducked. "Cover your heads everybody!"
"I leave everybody a lifetime supply of ice cream."
Silence again.
"Ice cream?" Fox ventured from behind his makeshift barricade. James echoed that suspiciously, vulpine eyes darting around. Panther enquired: "Ice cream, that's all?"
"That's all," Andross affirmed.
"Well what flavor is it?" Mrs. Reinard asked, aggrieved at being the recipient of a boot to the head.
"Boot to the head!"
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"The nerve of my brother! The nerve of that… that man!" Krystal fumed as she and Fox left the courtroom, holding oversized icepacks to their numerous bruises. "I never knew he hated me so!"
"There, there, Kryssy, I'm sure it isn't quite so bad. We do get a Super Diamond―"
She slapped him. "Super Diamond, my ***!"
As Fox looked shocked that his delicate wife would use such language, James took the opportunity to butt into them. "He never mentioned anywhere that you'd get the car―I, however, get a wine cellar and whiskey! Mmmhmmm!"
"No, no, no, its all part of his predetermined plan to make us suffer," complained Panther Caroso. "The lawyer said the entire estate is going to Venom, what a godforsaken place that is―"
"I didn't get any ice-cream," chimed in Mrs. Reinard, holding an equally oversized icepack to her own somewhat moderate bruises. "After all I did for that man―" A sudden rumbling sound reverberated across the area, shaking dust off of ancient buildings and scaring non-anthropomorphic birds from the trees. All of them looked up.
Coming down the sky was a massive blur until it resolved with a thunderous impact that sprayed rubble everywhere. As the dust cleared it was revealed to be a pyramidic-shaped conical vehicle at least the height of the venerable courthouse they just exited, painted in red and white colors. As they looked upon it with incredulous wonder, three sides slammed down, crunching into the pavement and revealing the insides.
"BLOD REHVENS!"
A tall figure clad in golden armor almost twice their height and size stepped out, brandishing a large sword nearly its own size. Behind it stepped out red-and-white warriors armed with arcane weapons whose designs hadn't changed in over ten thousand years since their inception and creation during the Great Crusade.
"TODEH WE SHALL STEEL THE ENEMEH! WE CAN TAKE ANYTEHIN―"
"IN METAL BAWKSES!" interrupted another, larger figure clad in gold and black armor… and disturbingly had skulls impaled on meter-long spikes coming out of its shoulders.
"NO!" Commander Boreale exclaimed, turning, swinging his sword and the Blood Ravens attacked the Chaos warband which had somehow followed them out of Dawn of War - Soulstorm into Star Fox. Of course, the Warp being the Warp―that is, Chaos to you―anything was possible.
Heil Hitler, comrade!
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A/N: Crossovers include GTA V, Warhammer 40K, and Star Fox. This is not satire.