(NB1: I regret to say first off that I could not include everyone from both films in the story to an elaborate extent, as it would have then become a six-figure epic (in terms of number of words, not in terms of dollars here unfortunately)…Parodies can be scaled down from the source material and all so whatevers. I did keep some people alive who died in the films and all here, but as in AQP I'm not speaking on this any further for now, and as in BB you're not peeking:) Just keep reading if you'd like).
(NB2: The aliens in this story are based on the Janeane-Garofalo-voiced Stith in Titan A.E., which you can look up on your own and stuff. She always scared the shit out of me as a kid and all (Stith, not Garofalo) with her sneers and giant stature and all so that is what inspired me for this story's enemy herein).
(STORY COLD OPEN)
Groceries were arranged in the usual unspectacular array upon the kitchen counter that
evening, the cantaloupes and the cucumbers and the kombucha and such. Among those in the rustic home, that most attentive of Abbotts made sure that which was gathered was the least susceptible to any kind of gut bacteria.
Because anyone with a scintilla of a cerebrum knew what such intestinal congestion led to.
It was just as the apocalypse-embattled beardo finished his count of the belly-healthy comestibles, in fact, that in burst that lovely law enforceress from town, the usual delectable-yet-disconcerted look splashed all across her face.
"Felix's gone down in the basement to the microwave, with that stuff you told him not to get at the general store."
Flushed with frustration now was the well-weathered and brown-bristled face of the hardy homeowner.
"Damn it, Lucy; you know…"
"Look, buddy, I told him not to get that fluorescent Pop fuckshit from the shelf!" The former mistress of Maze-Running gave herself a beat to catch her breath.
"Hhh I took him aside, and I said 'Listen,' and all…then I did the requisite dramatic pause, and then, 'Too gassy.'"
Only a silent glare from Lee.
"Well, what was I supposed to do, gesticulate it to him in effing ASL?"
The eldest Abbott took the pretty policegirl by the hand, he motioning the need to hurry. As Lucy duly followed suit, a shrug from the nondescript nonagenarian Cheryl nearby. "Wait…how could Felix…I just checked, we still have our latest supply fully intact with all the flavors like Confetti Cupcake, and Printed-Fun Gingerbread…"
Lucy shook her head and handwaved quickly to the other survivor. Just before she turned to join the man of the farmhouse in the descent downstairs:
"No, no…not Pop Tarts."
Scrambling quite unquietly down those sturdy steps now were the pair now of Lucy and Lee, the former fearing for her wayward crush which in this reality was heretofore unconsummated (Thank GOD)…the latter just worrying at the prospect of having to clean his Kenmore of sugar and gore when the worst would be very imminently bound to happen.
As the enticing officer had reached the bottommost floor
[BRRRRRAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN]
she collapsed, the cop cupping her hands to her mouth as the super sharecropper behind her pushed ahead to try and reach the reckless rhymesayer before it was too late.
But too late it would turn out to be indeed for the impulsive idiot who were merely trying to impress the foxy five-oh in their fortress against the unspeakable invaders. In attempting to manifest and then outlast the urban legend behind the mergence of cola with that treacherous candy treat whose longform name was essentially "Popular Rock N' Roll," the fetid fate of Felix had been irretrievably sealed, and no one and no thing could reach him in time.
Verily, not the human survivors who huffed down to the cellar in a knowingly futile attempt to
save this gangliest of gangstas.
But also not the incoming insidious interlopers who had now
[CRRRRRAAAAASSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH]
were the menacing aliens new to the terrene scene, one of whom had just now burst through one of the basement windows to get at the malodorous mofo that was its prey.
In what would here be the exception to the continuous rule here…in which outer space conquerors looking like the rather butch she-kangaroos from a Titan (not from an Attack On, mind you, but rather from the more ancient opus of A.E.) were coming to claim the lives of anyone emitting an odor from the anal aperture…the ragamuffin of a rapper here had ended his own life, unintentionally in fact in his vain bid to woo an attractive miss, as his head utterly detonated from the explosive confection concoction, and then his torso followed.
In the wake of this travesty of a tragedy, both the farmer and foreigner slowed a sprint to a skip, then chuffed out mutual frustration and hurried back into his or her own respective lair.
(Coming at the reader in a haze of brown smoke, the terrifying title:)
A PUNGENT PURLIEU FOR BOA BASSINETS
By Quillon42
PART ONE
Terrifying was the trudge that the recluse-turned-rescuer would have to foray with the reptiles and rugrats that were also in tow. Malorie leaned ruefully against the rugged shopping cart that she and Tom custom-built for this hellish haul across the American desertscape.
"I am going to explain this to you once," she stated most archly in this address she would now impart to her two overly impressionable young charges, as they stood outside the still-perfectly-functional safehouse owned by the Abbott farming family. "We are going on what will feel like a long and useless trek. It's going to be hard to stay alert like a sand-stranded Albert Wesker, it's going to be even harder to stay continent, but you have, to do, both, you have to do exactly what I say, or we will not make it. Under no circumstance, are either of you allowed to untape yourself, if I find that you have, I will shove it right back up your ass where it was before. Do you understand? It is hot out there, but Zecks you have Anny, Swhye you have Monty, this well-stocked farmhouse is only a place, it has nothing more for us even though everyone else is staying behind here where it's safe and tranquil and loaded with supplies. Now come jump on into the cart with your pets."
Obediently the two children complied, the girl with her live anaconda cording cozily around her waist and the boy with his python falling similarly in step.
(NB: Although an anaconda is officially considered a boa constrictor, a python technically is not; this author is asking you to use suspension of disbelief regarding this splitting of species hairs and adhere to the outstandingly outlandish idea that a python could belong the titular family of hissers).
Mal turned to the boa-bound boy and girl one more time before she beckoned for Tom to join them. She punctuated the following at them with emphatic index finger points:
"And no fucking farting in the desert. If you do, you will die."
All the other occupants of this haven of harvest watched the four flounder off into the hazy horizon. Fortunately for the remaining mass of survivors, their ad hoc home was situated on fertile ground fringing the dunes that Malorie, her man, and the kids had now dared. Everyone else was set on completing similarly integral tasks for the overall improvement of the group.
For example, Greg and Douglas were productively engrossed in their intense tabletop game which was actually situated on the carpet at the moment. On the television the advertisement therefor was blaring boorishly.
"Since the end times have begun, we have sadly experienced the exit of joyous sausagey social occasions featuring two dozen young men competing for the attentions for every one woman.
"Well, now you can enjoy the awkwardness and tension of the same at home with Thirsty Thirsty Horny Horny Horny Hipsters!
"Twenty plastic figures arranged around the plastic arena serving as the barroom dance floor. One tiny plastic ball in play! Who will be the one to snatch it up? Copies are going fast for that nostalgia of frustration and dissatisfaction captured by Thirsty Thirsty Horny Horny Horny Hipsters!"
"I'm gonna be the one to clap it down on my next wife," goaded Douglas, he hammering at the levers for two or three of the champing figures.
"No way, man…the one ball out there signifies one of the testes that belongs to my next husband," said Greg.
Close by, the bald bastard's third-time-charm spouse Lydia looked on, she cheering on the competitor who was not her cohabitant in wedlock. "Go, Greg; settle the litigation between yourselves by proxy and come out on top!"
"Oh, this'll be a better coming out than the one in my teens, I'll tell ya."
Then CLAPPPPPP as the plastic commandeered by the assiduous Asian had battened down on the ball then raked it on in. "That's two out of three, Douglas! It's settled out of court, all in my favor."
Everyone but the douchiest Doug had applauded; Greg got up and threw his arms up in abject victory…but then of a sudden
[BRRREPPPPPP]
And then rushing immediately into the scene was Lee, he tackling Greg to the ground and instantly spraying the air around the latter's rear with Lysol of the Lavender Fields variety. The cheeks of Douglas and Lydia's neighbor were still clenched, the guilt and regret registering upon his face for letting himself go a bit too much in that moment.
Lee hugged Greg's lower half to himself and remained frozen in this position for many moments, waiting, expecting them to come around once more. When yet another minute passed in this position and the thumping sounds of jangling alien jumps grew fainter, he relaxed a bit and then whipped out a jar with peach-colored jelly inside.
"No…no way, Abbott."
"You have to, Greg."
"I'm not putting marmalade on my ass for this! (At least, not in this context…)"
"It smells better than what you…or anyone else…could possibly put out and…"
"Lee, you give 'manspreading' an appalling all-new meaning. Forget it. In fact, I'm hauling off to the head right here, on this very floor in this very house now."
"Greg…you know you can't do that!"
Everyone looked at the scene, knowing what had happened those five or so years back at the house, when they had let that egregious shithead Gary into the place. Just beats after the babies of Malorie and Olympia were born, and Cheryl had cut the cords…
"Here, drink of this. Drink of this."
And he'd told the two newborn mothers that the liquid would have an allaying effect, to relax them after the stress of childbirth. Malorie politely declined, but Olympia accepted…and it was a half hour in passing later when Charlie noticed the container for the product in the trash.
"OLYMPIA!...what Gary gave you…it was…it wasn't a calmative…
"It's a LAXATIVE!"
And it was just then that the portly princess's eyes had taken on a chilling chocolate hue that they didn't have before, and she started to get up in a trance.
"Beef! BEEEEEEFFF! BEEEEEEEEEFFFFFF!" cried Gary in his fanatical fervor.
Malorie could see that the otha motha was beginning to make for the bathroom with her own precious bundle, and she threw out her arms in pleading.
"Let me hold her just for one single minute! Please just for one minute! Olympia please let me hold her for a minute! No longer than that and I promise this to you! Just like one single minute! I would be just so glad if you let me hold her for only one minute! Come on and let me hold her for one minute! Really I honestly swear I'll give her right back to you! Take my word for it that I'll give her back to you in a minute!"
The barren brownness abandoned Olympia's eyes for an instant. As she handed her newborn daughter on over to Mal:
"Christ, I heard you like the first 593 times!"
And then she sprinted at full speed to the lurid loo nearby. The same to which Greg was now determined to go, which was all but welded shut after the Olympia incident.
[BRRRAAAAAANNNNNN]
[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM]
…
…
[Tong, Tong, Tong, Tong, Tong, Tong…]
…
…
…
When the insides of the farmhouse had settled then, after so many seconds of sheer anxiety, the others around had looked over to the crater that had been the crapper. Indeed it was a gigantic gap slathered down with brown and a bit of red, and no intact Olympia to be found; the fading echoes of malevolent marsupial leaps lay suspended in the peeling silence.
Satisfied at the wreck he had wrought, Gary got up and started toward the stairs for more ways in which he could wreak havoc around this home…
"Hey, ASSHOLE!"
…and then he was greeted by the sometimes-drunken but always-diabolical Douglas, who in this instant was sober by drink and loaded instead with a most rousing of rocket launchers.
"Dougl…what're you doing he..."
And then the other man with clean scalp and clearly-opened sockets of eyes
[SSSSSHHHHHHHHH]
let fly the lethal salvo, the OdoRocket they all picked up at their run at the dubious storehouse the previous day (to be covered in next chapter) whirring across the space and striking Gary roundly in the chest, skunk and ermine aroma permeating the air as it went, the aerial pair
[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM]
impacting against the wall of the house and continuing on, the missile soaring through the sky with a screaming Gary still upon it. On the ground Malorie's sister Jessica as well as Evelyn Abbott and her youngest son Beau all stopped their planting and collectively looked up in bewilderment as the biggest prick of the property was shunted into the dankest of dark woods nearby, where a nest of Earth-foreign wallabies on the warpath were waiting.
They all attracted by the strong and fetid smell of the odious outsider, now the same aliens hopped in the horrific Hollander's direction. When they had reached him, Gary tried at first to skip around himself evasively, as he did to avoid shotgun fire in the original Netflix Bullock bash, to escape their attack here also. When they surrounded him hopelessly, he then endeavored to swing out at them with those same scissors which had in the same abovementioned original bash simultaneously brought two lives into the world and also taken two out of it. But the railing roos just knocked the makeshift weapon aside.
Leaning and seething over the petrified traitor, they taunted derisively at the dipshit, before falling entirely upon him:
"We don't think so, little man. "My sexy sisters and I, we'll all school you on the right proper way to hop around…
"…As well as the proper way to scissor."
TO BE CONTINUED