Disclaimer.
Cassandra: Right. You recognize it, we don't own it. If we did do you think we'd be writing fan-fics?
Andromache: However we do own the Lobster, Weasels and Laura Jones.
Author's note.
This story is the result of FAAAAAAAAAAAAR too much sugar and caffeine (we'd been drinking colas. Honest!). Send us the names of people the Lobster and his cronies can go after next and we can continue. Don't and this story dies here. ************************************
{Cassandra.)
The Big Red Lobster turned to his mates the Chainsaw Wielding Weasels and said, "OK, now we've captured him, what 'll we do?"
"Chop off his goolies!" chanted the Chainsaw Wielding Weasels chanted revving up their chainsaws. They continued to chant as they advanced on his bound form.
"NOOOOOOO!" James Bond woke up in a cold sweat. Fancy believing that a Big Red Lobster and some weasels with power tools could have . . . mutilated you like that! Then he realized he felt different. More feminine somehow. He peeked under the blankets.
"Eeep!" he squeaked. ****************************************
In her office in MI6 HQ, M sighed. This was certainly one of the more . . . bizarre cases she'd been asked to investigate. Her top agent, 007, Bond, James Bond, had been castrated and he claimed a Big Red Lobster and some Chainsaw Wielding Weasels were responsible. In fact she knew only one man who was capable of dealing with this type of problem. But he was currently speaking, squeaking? , in a castrato pitch to her PA, Ms. Moneypenny.
009 walked in. "Here is the information you asked for M. But are you sure he is your man?"
"Yes, 009, I am sure. I am not used to having my decisions questioned in this manner. If this is the way Black Air operated, I am in no way surprised they got closed down."
"Yes, M." On his way out, Agent 009, lately of Black Air and Excalibur, patted Bond's shoulder in a show of sympathy. "Sorry, Bond coulda happened to any of us."
"Yeah, thanks Pete." Squeaked Bond. God, thought Wisdom, all this business makes me miss Kitty and all the other spandex brigade. Now where are my ciggies? **************************************************
"Stage one is in operation, Master." Reported the Big Red Lobster to his boss. "Target one has been . . . neutralized under my supervision. The Chainsaw Wielding Weasels are locating and tracking the others."
"Excellent, my pet. Soon I will have the Goolies of all the world's most notorious womanizers! No woman will be able to resist me! Bwahah-ha-hah!" The boss's voice laughed evilly from the speakers in a manic way. But what did the Big Red Lobster care? He was a crustacean with no goolies and anyway had been married to the same Fishwife for the last fifty years. {Lobsters can typically live for some 100 years if they're big. Cx.} {If he's got kids imagine the collage fees..Just like you they'd float back for handouts! Ax}
"Anyway," continued the Boss "How else am I supposed to get it on with someone? Nobody wants me! Not even my mummy!" he terminated the transmission in tears.
Just then the Big Red Lobster's other comm. screen flickered into life. "Target two has been located in the United States of America . . ." ***********************************************
"Thanking you kindly, sir." The tall Mountie took the two hot dogs from the vendor.
"Yeah, thanks ta ya too, buddy." The vendor shook his head "Canadians."
From across the street a bald man stuck his head out of the window on the driver's side of a green car which was definitely either very old or a classic. "Hey, Benny! You gonna hurry with those dogs man? We gotta go." An after thought struck him. "An' no eating things offa the floor! That's why we got the dogs!"
Benton Fraser, constable with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, smiled to his friend and waited patiently for a break in traffic to cross the street. Ray Vecchio wanted to kill him. Or at the very least shout some more. Anyone else could have crossed by now. Okay, so they'd have to run and maybe break a minor traffic code but hey. Then he saw the Lobster. The Big Red Lobster. With the Chainsaw Wielding Weasels. At first he thought he was hallucinating, then they got into the car and said "Drive." Ray drove.
Fraser saw the car pull away and as it past him the large scarlet crustacean and the pack of weasels. But what really convinced him that there was trouble was the look on Ray's face. "Oh my. RAY!" Dropping the hot dogs, he ran after the car in the middle of the road. Diefenbaker wolfed down both sausages then ran after him. *************************************************
The lovely domesticated home of Professor Henry Jones JR. {by Andromache.}
Indy wandered in to his supposedly private study, the one that he kept all his books and momentous from his adventures in, the one that was allegedly locked up so tightly when he wasn't there that a horde of marauding Nazis couldn't get in. Allegedly.
Indy had his doubts about the supposed security of his study it had to do with the discarded sweet papers he kept finding on his desk, the fact that he'd found his hat, yes the hat. His beloved blown up, shot at, dropped in snake pit hat of hats, his constant companion through thick and thin hat, crushed on the floor like someone had sat on it. Indy had also suffered the indignity of finding a large toffee very much like the ones his father used to give him as a child stuck to the side of his hat. Indy was pretty sure that it wasn't his dad breaking in to his study as Henry Snr was currently in the Highlands of Scotland {via Spain. Ang.} On a fishing holiday with his friend Connor. No, he knew who it; was his doubts had a name, his doubts were a small five Nearly SIX daddy! Year old girl who bore the surname Jones. Indy's doubts were made flesh in the small, lot less innocent than she looked personage of Laura Jones his daughter.
Indy at this point in life had been married for eight years and widowed for two, hadn't dated since before his marriage, not that he hadn't had offers, that dammed Marine Biology lecturer was still after him. It was just bringing up a child was bloody hard work, women he had decide really had a though time of it. He had no time to date what with the marking he had to do, parents night, preparing lectures, helping with home work, giving lectures and bedtime stories he had no time. If you had told him 12 years ago that he would willingly give up his adventuring for a life of near domestic bliss he'd have laughed in your face. But that was just what he had done, willingly too.
Indy let out a long sigh and flipped the light switch on, if the Nazis could see him now they would laugh and say 'Eeep'
There were no longer any doubts in Indy's mind that the most inner of sanctums had been broken in to, for there curled up asleep on the couch that ran along the window was Laura.
Indy wasn't so much angry as curious, how had she done it? Had his only child been born with a natural ability to pick locks? Or the most likely explanation had his father taught his only grandchild to pick locks? He guessed the 2nd, dam annoying old man! Here was Professor Henry Jones JR try to lead a normal life with his normal job and normal (criminal in the making) child and what did he get? His father was teaching his daughter this!
Quite suddenly the revelation hit him like a bolt of lighting on a clear day "Oh my God!" he shouted, "I'm getting old."
"You're not getting old Daddy," said a little voice at his elbow; Indy looked down to see his daughter looking up at him.
"Thanks honey" he said smiling at least his kid was propping up his ego.
"You ARE old" And then kicking that prop away. "You're older than John, Amy, Cary, Scott and Susan's Daddies" Laura informed him in a matter of fact voice.
"Thanks a bunch" he flopped down on the couch next to her.
"You're welcome"
Indy shifted and then released he was sitting on something very dear to him {NO not his bum}, his HAT! Gingerly he lifted his backside and pulled on his battered and squashed hat, and held it in front of him.
He then turned to face his little girl with a look that would of made any Nazis blood run cold, "Well?" In the distance the doorbell rang.
"I'll get the door for you Daddy" said Laura jumping up and running from the room. Indy sighed he really would do anything to avoid telling Laura off. He hated doing it; the kid probably knew that. Indy smiled he had one smart kid, she was gonna do well for herself.
Laura came bonding in to the room and launched herself at him. Indy grabbed her before she knocked the air out of him. "Well who is it?" he asked. "Remember if it's Doctor Thomas what do we say?"
"Daddy's not home, but its not her" Laura said bouncing up and down in her excitement.
"Well then who is it?" Indy demanded as he got up hat abandoned on the couch and child balanced on hip.
"Strange ENGLISH people daddy, a lady an' a man the man has cigarettes!" "I know because he was smoking one 'fore he came in the door an' the lady said to him 'Put that out 009!' and he did". **********************************************
{Cassandra.}
Ray Vecchio was not impressed. A Big Red Lobster and some Chainsaw Wielding Weasels had hijacked his beloved car, and coincidentally himself. Whilst the chainsaws weren't going, they were making a mess of the original 1956 leather seats {Are Ray's car seats leather? I sure as hell don't know. They are now because leather is hard to clean and it scuffs. Cx.} What with the leaking oil and blood. Blood! Where's Benny when you need him?
"Oi, you." The lobster poked Ray in the back. " Stop in the next own we need more chainsaws. That would be the point when Ray released they weren't in Chicago any more. No they were somewhere less windy. More sunny . . . ************************************************
Angelus was bored. He had nothing to do. It was day so there wasn't even the chance of finding someone to torture. Bored. Bored. Bored. I am BORED! I could Torment Sit'n'Spin. Nah, too much bother. And if I do something bad to him, Dru'll sulk. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored! Drusilla was talking to her dolls and ignoring both him and Spike. Spike was . . . well doing whatever it was he did. Angelus didn't much care. Bored. Bored. Bored. I am BORED!
Sit'n'Spin, sorry Spike, was busy. He had a secret. He had a stash of chainsaws. Big, beautiful shiny chainsaws. Playing with his chainsaws made him feel all manly. Although he was a demon so why he wanted to feel manly is a mystery. It also made him feel manly imaging chopping people, specifically Angelus and the Slayer, up into little bitsy pieces with his big, beautiful, shiny chainsaws. {I'm beginning to think I should leave Spike alone to play with his chainsaws. It's come over all eeew. Cx.} He was just getting to his favorite part of his chainsaw fantasy when Drusilla screamed.
Angelus was also aware that something was wrong with Dru. She'd managed to wrap herself around his head and was screaming loudly. {NO! not for any sexual reason. For that would be smutty.} By the time he managed to pull her off, he could see why. Spike was wheeling around the mansion chasing what appeared to be Weasels who had chainsaws.
"Give me back my chainsaws, you bloody wankers!"
Spike's Chainsaws. The ones that made him feel manly.
The Big Red Lobster opened a door and they ran out into the sunshine. Angelus could just make out that they got into a green car.
"Bloody 'ell, Ducks." Spike had his arm around Dru who was still whimpering in that Dru way. "Wot a nice Buick the little rat-bastards have. 1956, I'd say."
"They stole all your toys, Spikey."
"Dru. Shut up. Buggers." Spike proceeded to mutter vague, and obscene, threats at the weasels. ******************************************
Ray was rather scared by the guys in Hallowe'en masks shouting at the Weasels . Actually, he was scared of the Weasels, but that was beside the point. The next thing he knew the Weasels were back in the car and they were merrily barreling along the highway. This was, he assured himself, not good. {over to you, aren't you glad. Cx.} *************************************
{Andromache.}
The car gave a jarring lurch and Ray gasped as he shot by Big Ben and then realizing that a large truck was heading toward him, in the back the Weasels were all screaming like women. He quickly pulled over to left side of the road, in the back the Weasels all breathed deep sighs of relief and the Big Red Lobster patted Ray on the shoulder and said happily "Nice driving mate".
Suddenly Ray realized he had just driven by Big Ben, Big Ben that was in LONDON, wich was in ENGLAND!!!!
"Where are we"? He nervously asked the Weasels who were looking about with interest, one of them was hanging out of the window clicking away with a camera.
The Big Red Lobster enlightened him "London. That's in England" the lobster added mistaking Ray's Gobbsmacked look for one of stupidity.
"Bit of business here and up in Weatherfield which is in Manchester and we're off to New York" The Big Red Lobster added. "You just carry on driving an' leave the rest to us"
Ray smiled all the while thinking "I want my momma".
'Oi an' you lot in the back' the Big Red Lobster said addressing the Weasels. 'This is London and you know what that means'.
'But boss he's not been sighted in London for years' began one of the younger weasels.
The Big Red lobster swung round snapping his pincers frighteningly 'I don't care you just keep an eye out for 'im, he's got a habit of tuning up when you lest suspect it'. ***************************************
{Cassandra.}
Meanwhile Indiana Jones, still safely sitting in his house was mightily regretting the day he ever owed MI6 a favor. He was also slightly worried about the agent with the strange miasma of seedy bars who was being regaled with the name of every Pokemon ever by his daughter. At least she isn't making him play Barbie. Indy thought. Last time he'd played with her, Barbie and Ken had gotten married and that had led to the question that all parents fear. "Daddy? Where do babies come from?" He was quite sure that 009 would actually tell her, probably in very colorful and adult language. He turned his attention back to M.
"So, there is a maniac running around castrating your agents and you want me to help?"
"That is the position, Dr. Jones." M sighed, "And we have reports of the suspects car jacking a Chicago policeman, the last sighting was in Sunnydale, California." *********************************************
Mary Poppins, she who is practically perfect in every way, was pissed. Bert, the feckless Mockney, sorry Cockney, Chimney Sweep had run off to the USA. He was supposed to wait for her in London. And he was telling people he was a doctor. A crime fighting doctor, for goodness sakes! And even worse somewhere along the line he'd got married and had children- two of them. Oh, well, she reflected, at least this was better than when he decided to be an inventor and had incited a rebellion in some East European dictatorship. Thankfully Dr. Mark Sloan's car didn't fly. Nor was there a mad elderly relative involved. Bert seemed to have a lot of mad elderly relatives.
The main reason for her annoyance apart from the whole Bert-is-in-California-pretending-to-be-a-doctor thing was the shenanigans of the Big Red Lobster and the Chainsaw Welding Weasels. Now they were in London and Bert couldn't stop them. Oh, well. IN every job that must be done, is and element of fun she reminded herself, pinning her hat to her head and picking up her umbrella, and that Dr. Jones is awfully nice.... **********************************************