Bo-Crack Mountain
A Bobobobo-bobobo fanfiction by Sir Psycho Sexy
A/N: Yaoi (sort of), and more WTF-ness than you can shake a stick at. Also, this fic is not for Brokeback Mountain fans- or at least the ones that don't have a sense of humor. Because, face it, like it or not, you HAVE to make fun of it.
I dun own Box7 or Brokeback Mountain, BTW. They are the property of Sawai Yoshio and Annie Proulx, respectively.
-SPS
"Excuse me, sir, but have you worked as a Hair Hunt trooper before?" The small, shriveled, generic-looking Hair Hunt trooper looked up at the gigantic man with the blond Afro.
"No, I haven't."
"Okay, then, do you have any qualifications?"
"Hmmm…let's see….I've been the Go-Cart Grand Prix Champion of the world three times, four times if you count the time I had the pretzel drive…I have innumerable objects living in my hair, some of which are weapons of mass destruction…and I can walk and chew gum at the same time." Bobobo just looked at Mr. Generic Hair Hunt Trooper as if said Generic Trooper's head were on fire for no apparent reason.
"Excellent. Here's your office keys, and we'll be keeping an eye on you to see than you don't have any…inappropriate relations."
After agreeing to his new boss' specifications, Bobobo walked up an Escherian flight of stairs, because, face it, Escher does funny drawings, and ended up in an office that only existed in the sunlight and disappeared after dark. Why, we don't know, but it's probably because the author of this fanfic is too damn lazy to think of any good jokes. (Ha ha, author. You're about as funny as paint drying.)
But lo, in the corner of the office, stood the most beautiful and ravishing creature he had ever seen in his life. He stood about six feet tall with hot bulging guns and cuticles to die for. Angels cried down from the heavens because of his very existence (or maybe they were just watering the begonias?), and Bobobo could not help staring at him.
"Hello there. My name is King Nose Hair. I'm your new co-worker." King Nose Hair flexed his brawny arms and winked, causing his eyes to be surrounded by pink sparklies.
Bobobo could barely speak. "Water cannon…toilet paper…cheese?"
"Do you like me?" King Nose Hair winked at Bobobo, maybe because he wanted to let him on, maybe because a wink is a cheap yaoi plot device, who knows?
"Tiramisu!" answered Bobobo, blushing like a maniac.
"Okay, but we've got to keep this a secret. My wife at home, she's a real bitch, and…and well…you could die if people found out a nose hair and a person were in love."
"Die?" Bobobo looked around in shock.
"Yes, I remember when I was but a wee nose hair. There was this fellow who lived openly with his nose-hair companion. Ran the same cell in C-Block too. But they were killed…by…a wet noodle…and my daddy took me to see! He said he'd do the same thing to me if I ever dated a human. Oh, the humanity! Oh, the carnage! Oh, the wangst!" King Nose Hair collapsed in a puddle of Super-Powered Oppression Tears on the floor.
Little did they know that they were being watched by the murderous likes of one Hair Hunt Troop superior, General Jelly Jiggler. He hated nose hairs, and he hated them even more when they were involved with a human. Why anyone couldn't be normal, and go for a little wobble-wobble with soy sauce on top was beyond him. "Isn't that right, lucky hankie of 'nu'?" he asked in a baby-talk voice. "You're my favorite hankie, yes you are, yes you are! Daddy loves you soooooo much! Because there's nothing cuter than a 'nu', oh no there isn't! And anyone who thinks you're a 'ne' is a pervert…" with this he started to yell to himself-"WHO DESERVES TO DIE!"
"Did you hear something about hiragana letters?" asked Bobobo.
"No. Besides, people who like hiragana letters are perverts. Now let us commence our forbidden love, Bobobo!"
And then they kissed like men possessed- by A1 steak sauce. (Yeah, it's that important.)
Years went by, and King Nose Hair and Bobobo carried on their sooper sekrit relationship behind people's backs, since they were too chicken to be honest and out in the open like NORMAL people (oh, heck, why is the author defining 'normal' in a Bobobo-bo bo-bobo fanfiction anyways?). King Nose Hair gave his wife, who he had met at an Oddities and Simulacra convention, two lovely children, and Bobobo got married to a woman he did not love, but who he was slightly attracted to anyways for her large inheritance of pickles. Deliciously zesty kosher pickles.
Both men told their wives that they had gone to wigging conventions on the weekend when they were really sharing their forbidden love and slathering each other in cream rinse. But one weekend, the tide turned.
Bobobo grabbed his lunch box and his super-deluxe wigging hat, and his wife, carrying their child (which, in reality, was Yaya in a wig and diapers), said, "Where are you going, Bobobo? Where? Tell me…Oh, I just can't get into character. Don Patch told me that I'd get to do at least one love scene with Gas-can, and I…" Beauty started crying.
"It's okay. Just pretend I'm him."
"How can I pretend that someone so goofy can be someone so cool? Huh?" Beauty walked towards Bobobo.
"Hey, kid!" yelled Don Patch from the director's chair. "Great emotion! Now use it! Remember your lines this time!"
"…All right," Beauty sulked. "Tell me where you're going, Bobobo. I know that you aren't going to all those wigging conventions, I know you're not!" She held onto his shirt in an attempt to look weak and, well, shônen-slash-fake-yaoi-love-interest-y.
"I told you, I'm going to practice my wigging." He just brushed her off and left the house, while she cried bitter tears that no one paid attention to because, well, she was a girl, and therefore not all that interesting. (She's just there to ruin the story! DIE BITCH DIE! You will never know the true, pure, and perfect love between man and nose hair!...Oh, no, the author is channeling fangirls again. He'd better stop chugging Tabasco.)
Meanwhile, King Nose Hair was having a similar conversation with his wife.
"I KNOW you're cheating on me! You don't even KNOW wigging! I can outwig you any day of the week, kiddo!"
"But I'm a nose hair, and…"
"So what? You sure haven't got a brain underneath all of those cuticles. I take care of the house, and the kids, and I sign weapons disarmament bills that are going around the neighborhood, while you go 'wigging'." King Nose Hair's wife stomped her foot, making sure not to break the thin heels of her red high-heeled shoes that were most likely made out of fish or something. "You wanna know why, bucko?"
"Why?" King Nose Hair rolled his eyes. It would be the same running gag that his wife was known for, again…
"Because…I'M A TORPEDO!" Torpedo Girl screamed.
"Sheesh," he said under his breath.
"What? Do you not like me as a torpedo? How can you not like me if you married me, huh?"
"Well, I thought you were that Over guy! He was so nice…and…and…evil…"
"Tor-pe-do-tor-pe-do-tor-pe-do," Torpedo Girl giggled. "I'M A TORPEDO, you moron! Am I going to have to dive-bomb you if you don't stop being such an idiot?"
Right then, in the midst of the fight, one of their children (which resembled an iPod) started crying. Torpedo Girl picked him up and soothed him in her arms.
While his wife was distracted, King Nose Hair left the house in search of his true love, Bobobo.
Bobobo and King Nose hair awoke in a cheap hotel room, the state and contents of which can only be described by a mixture of bad purple prose and sex metaphors that would make Ron Jeremy cringe.
As King Nose Hair lit up a cigarette while lying in bed, Bobobo yelled, "I wish I knew how to quit you!", and fell into tears in King Nose Hair's- erm- lap.
King Nose Hair took a long, awkward drag on his cigarette. "You do know how to quit me. Stop being yourself."
"But I caaaan't! I have to be who I truly am! But…but then, society will condemn me! Oh woe is mee!" whined Bobobo so desperately that one could virtually hear his rear end begin to self-lubricate. (And not from those Olestra chips he had earlier, either.)
"Jeez, you ever think you could think by yourself, and think about the consequences of your own actions? You're a pathetic sheep." King Nose Hair took another drag off of his cigarette. "Besides, I know that you only like some kinds of nose hair, and not all of them. I also know that you were with a bowl of chocolate pudding last week, and a number '3' the week before that…But our love is pure!"
"CUT!" yelled Don Patch. "Jeez…of all the stupid…King Nose Hair, baby, this movie is about love. And the persecution of the entire world of that love, even though it's entirely ridiculous that the WHOLE WORLD could be against you. Don't forget that. Bobobo, King Nose Hair, in this scene you are stereotypical women. With penises. Don't ask me why, but I SWEAR I'll make enough money off of you to buy my own resort in Vegas and marry a couple of drunken showgirls… Erm, I mean, critics eat this stuff for breakfast! And…ACTION!"
"Indeed, our love is purer than the UV rays in a tanning lamp!" wailed Bobobo, as he and King Nose Hair cried romantically (if there is such a thing in a Bobobo fanfic) in each other's arms.
Years went by, and Jelly Jiggler (who no one knew was a closeted 'nu'-ophile, else he would have been executed by wet noodle, because, face it, people who like hiragana are perverts) laid both boys off from their jobs as Hair Hunt Troopers (which was kind of inevitable anyways, since they are both anti-Hair Hunt, and Jelly Jiggler is kind of in the story as a cheap plot device), never to see each other again. Sure, there were the inevitable "wigging trips" every few years, but they were only an excuse for questionable fanservice.
Even more years went by, and Jelly Jiggler and his men decided to take out that annoying nose hair, even though he had no clue where King Nose Hair was. God, nose hairs were sick and disgusting! Them with a human…just wrong! It was against the natural order of things! "What's that, 'nu'-hankie? You agree with me too? Aren't you just a good little hankie-wankie, huh? Daddy loves you sooo much!"
"What the heck are you doing, Jiggler?" asked one of his henchmen, who looked like a giant domino.
"Oh, nothing. Now go through that Majide Space hole over there, and get me the nose hair!"
"Are you SERIOUS?" replied the domino.
"Yes, I am serious, and that's why it's called Majide space." Jelly Jiggler smiled for the camera while a deep voice intoned, "Majide Space. Now available for $14.95 an acre."
So they went through the hole in order to find King Nose Hair…
Not an hour later, someone came to the door of King Nose Hair's home to tell his wife what had happened.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but your husband is dead. I heard he got killed by a wet noodle to the forehead, providing nose hairs have foreheads."
Torpedo Girl, in a not-so-characteristic display of out-of-character-ness, collapsed on the floor bawling like someone who just had a metric ton of pepper spray dumped onto their eyeballs.
"Why are you crying?" asked the stranger.
"Because…I'm a torpedo! WAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Bobobo, however, was never heard from again. He decided to wander from cell block to cell block, eventually having had relations with cod roe, another cup of pudding, two elderly prunes, a dancing poodle, and a hiragana letter 'he'. (Man, he IS a pervert who brought this whole thing on himself!)
Don Patch worked day in and day out to sell his movie to the public. Even though his goal was to get his own casino in Las Vegas, he sold the movie as a sympathetic story about the love between man and nose hair. Luckily for Don, there was a debate going on at the time about the right of nose hairs to wed, and he was careful to present his film as politically savvy. Without, of course, putting an actual nose hair on any of the posters.
Don Patch got unequivocal support from critics for his film, even if he had to either a.) hold the critic at Don Patch Sword-point (because waggling around green onions is the best way to intimidate people) or b.) remind the critic that, should they dislike the film, they would dishonor the other members of the intelligentsia, and therefore be made to wear a dunce cap Crazy-Glued to his head for all eternity. In no time at all, he was up for several Oscar nominations.
Nose-hair rights organizations got in on the action as well. They hailed Don Patch's film as the first film to not portray nose hairs as effeminate buffoons, perpetually stricken with folliculitis, or… whipped to death with wet noodles. Go King Nose Hair go! Win that Oscar! Advance nose-hair rights!
On Oscar night, Don Patch was furious to discover that his movie had not won for Best Film, but a movie documenting the lives of hiragana letters did. Never mind that that movie was better! Never mind that movie captured the essence of its characters better than Don Patch's! Anyone who actually appreciated hiragana letters as actual PEOPLE was a sicko!
However, Don Patch DID win Best Director (probably because the Academy Award judges are too old to judge anything effectively), and with his award, he gave the following speech:
'Thank you all. I'm here to say that the Academy is a bunch of hair-o-phobes! How else can I justify the fact that my exquisite work of art got snubbed for Best Picture? Huh? I mean, they gave Best Picture to a movie about hirgana characters! HIRAGANA, people! I mean, these judges are a bunch of repressed, prudish heffalumps who don't know what kind of people are really sick!...But, anyhoo, thank you for this award. It means a lot to me. It means that I can finally buy a casino, marry some soused performer chicks, and stick this up my butt, just like everyone else in Hollywood who has an Oscar. Good night!"
He bowed and sat back down while the audience, high on their own self-importance, cheered mechanically.
And to this day, there are nose-hair porn sites that cheer on the legend of Don Patch, who made the world safe for nose hairs. Even though about seven still get flogged to death with wet noodles per week.
-FIN