I had a ton of fun writing "A Lightweight Autobot", so I decided to expand it by making a little series of Transformers Animated parodies of Homestar Runner shorts, toons, and the SBEmails.

All the characters in the series are copyrighted to Hasbro, and the original scripts are copyrighted to The Brothers Chaps. They take place during random times in the series, so they could be before, after, or during.

This first one is based off of Biz Cas Fri 1, and was requested by my friend Jess (Puppyluver/SoSoSuckYourToe). This one takes place after the series.

I hope you guys enjoy these!

It was Friday. That's the day that students and teachers of the Protihex Medical Mechanics University didn't have to wear any specific medical armor. Business Casual Friday, or Biz Cas Fri, as it was called around the school, was the day that they could wear any appropriate comfortable outfit. Ratchet (clad in a striped polo shirt), was busy typing away on important documents on his computer.

"Great! I'm almost done with these third-quarter medical analysis spreadsheets, and STILL no sign of--"

"WHAT – is UP, -- my dog?!"

It was the 'bot that Ratchet DIDN'T want to see right now. Ever since coming to Cybertron, Wreck-Gar became a student of Ratchet, wanting to learn anything that he could. Today, wearing his lucky brown polo shirt, he was ready to learn. Too bad his teacher wasn't ready to teach.

"…I am NOT your dog."

"Mr. Alfred, you crack me up." Wreck-Gar cheerfully said, without a care in the world. "Crack! Me! Up! That's why you're my D-O-G-E!"

"…You're 'doge'?! What are you talking about?" Ratchet said, trying not to turn away from his computer. "I'm Ratchet! Alfred isn't even a Cybertronian name!"

"Hahaha! Good one, Alfred." Wreck-Gar laughed, still oblivious. "I mean, good one, MY DOG. So, you goin' to Beached Themed Oil Bar tonight? It's femmes' night! Music, dancing, they've got fake palm trees!"

"Oh, yeah…I'd rather be off-line!"

"Cooool, can we go together? Pick me up at six." Wreck-Gar asked. Sarcasm must be a foreign language to him. "Ooh, and bring plenty of Cyber-credits. I'm gonna need at least five or six oil cakes."

"Will you just get out of here and let me finish my spreadsheets?!"

"You're not done yet? I finished mine weeks ago! Let me lend you a servo."

"No, no, don't touch that!"

It was too late. Wreck-Gar had already pushed his mentor out of his chair, and started typing. Or, more like pounding his clenched servos on the keyboard, and see what happens. Suddenly, the screen went blue, and a message popped up:

Flamboyant System Error
3rd Qtr. Projection= Bad News

"Huh?" Ratchet muttered out, looking at his now-broken computer, and then clenching his servos in anger. "Oh, great! This is just GREAT!"

"Yeah! You can thank me later! I love that blue screen. It's my dog." Wreck-Gar cheerfully stated, then stood up from the chair. "Anyways, I'll let you finish up here. See you at six!"

Wreck-Gar ran out of Ratchet's office, as the upset medic slumped down in his chair.

"Oh, man! Now I gotta start over--"

"Don't be late!" Wreck-Gar exclaimed, poking his head into the office.

"Start all over an--"

"Femmes' night!"

"Start all ove--"

"Fake palm trees!"

"Start all o--"

"You're my dog."

This broke Ratchet's last straw. Finally losing it completely, he repeatedly pounded his head on the keyboard.

"Stupid! Third! Quarter! Medical! Analysis! Spreadsheets…I don't even know who you are…! Alfred…erh, where art thou…?

That's all Ratchet could say before he slumped down onto the floor, fainted into stasis.

THE END