Jonathan Joestar: A Fine Thesis
by niceperson
It was the year 1888, and Jonathan Joestar was having a bad case of writer's block.
"MY FINE THESIS IS DUE ON THE MORROW, AND I HAVE NOT THE SLIGHTEST IDEA WHAT TO WRITE ABOUT!"
Jonathan Joestar knew that he was destined to write the finest of fine theses. For he was an English gentleman, which meant that he was blessed with the noble blood of the landed gentry. He knew that the wellbeing of the poor and weak, both in England and across Her Majesty's fine empire, depended upon his ability to provide a fair and benevolent guiding hand.
Take DIO, for instance. He was but a common street rat from a family of substance abusing dole scroungers. But the benevolence of the Joestar family in taking the young vagabond under their wing had given him a brighter future. DIO had been raised so well that he could almost, for the untrained eye, pass for a man of blue blood.
DIO would never be capable of writing a fine thesis. But with George Joestar's kind tutelage, he could at least aspire to entering a lowlier middle-class profession such as the law.
And yet… Jonathan Joestar could not get the words out. He had been spending so much time recently engaging in frivolous larks with his Bullingdon boys that he had not had the time to focus on his studies.
Jonathan Joestar looked up and down the bookcase of his father's study. Suddenly, there was one book that caught his eye:
"The Lost City of Cameltolt"
This was not a legend that Jonathan Joestar was familiar with. Every child knew of the legend of Bruford and Tarkus, but this seemed to be an obscure one. He picked up the book and started reading. It told of a land of dragons and magick, of knights and kings. Jonathan Joestar's imagination was captivated and he knew he had to see this noble kingdom.
The book further told of the Once and Foother King, the noble badass warrior who led Cameltolt through its golden age. The man who stood resolute against the evils of magick. He immediately knew that this man was to be the subject of his exquisitely fine thesis.
He read with sadness how the once great land was now simply some caves for tourists in Whales.
"How could the fine English kingdom of Ambien become such a foul place?" he said chivalrously. The Whelsh were good people, but they were simple, inferior stock who truly needed the guidance of the crown.
Nevertheless, Jonathan Joestar got in his chariot and asked his chauffeur, Lemmy Ryde, "Take me to the land of the ovine fornicators!"
When Jonathan Joestar got to the caves, he was saddened to see the place was in a state. There was litter everywhere, a true sign of the unruly proletariat.
"No gentleman who is true of heart would pollute the fine land of Britain with such excrement!" he said out loud in a noble way.
He looked up at the cave entrance. It was vast, and the gaping mouth looked like it was beckoning him to come in.
"I shall now venture into the depths to satisfy my need for justice!" he said, and prepared to enter the cave. But as he did, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Alright there, boyo?" said a very Whelsh voice.
Jonathan Joestar turned round to see a very Whelsh looking man. He was wearing a policeman's hat, a policeman's uniform and a policeman's badge, but he did not have a cockney accent. Jonathan Joestar knew he was in unfamiliar territory.
"Hello lovely," said the strangely Whelsh policeman. "I am the ancestor of PC Andy from Torchwood, look you. Where do you think you're going boyo?"
Jonathan Joestar looked at him further. Come to think of it, he did look like the ancestor of PC Andy. No-one else looked that Whelsh.
"Thank you for your concern, fine commoner," Jonathan Joestar said gently. "I am a noble Englishman who has come to investigate the kingdom of Cameltolt and its Once and Foother King. I would be grateful if you could permit me to carry out this endeavour."
"Ooh look you," said the ancestor of PC Andy. "That is fine with me boyo, but I suggest I assist you, like. These caves are right dangerous you see".
Jonathan Joestar smiled. The policeman seemed just as inept and harmless as his descendant, so he decided to allow the simpleton to follow him into the cave.
As the two walked through the cave, Jonathan Joestar felt a sense of trepidation. There was a powerful force he could feel - he couldn't put his finger on it but he had never felt something so terrifyingly badass before. The ancestor of PC Andy felt it too.
But Jonathan Joestar was resolute. He knew it was his destiny to write a fine thesis, and no man, woman or legendary king could stop him in his quest.
As he reached the end of the tunnel, Jonathan Joestar began to make out a large, ominous door. He made out the inscription, though it took him a few seconds to process it due to the archaic, ancient nature of the language:
"PENDRAGON KING OF KINGS OF KINGS. OPEN THIS WHEN ENGLANDS IN DANJER FROM MAGICK COS IT WILL RESURECT HIM AND STOP ENGLAND BEIN IN DANJER".
The ancestor of PC Andy shivered Whelshly. "I theenk we should goo back, lovely!" he exclaimed.
"My poor, dear Whelsh fellow," said Jonathan Joestar, reassuringly. "There is no need to fear. You are with a noble-hearted Englishman, and the sun never sets on the British Empire".
With great resolve, Jonathan Joestar pushed the door open.
BUT as he did so, he realised to his great dismay that there was a 70 FOOT DROP!
Jonathan Hoestar felt himself falling. He had many regrets. He would never get to show his beloved Erina how to lie back and think of England. He would never meet the finest example of humanity that he had seen in his dreams, the man known as R.E.O. Speedwagornn. But worst of all, he would never get to write his fine thesis. He braced himself to face the final curtain…
"Hang on…"
Jonathan Joestar did not hit the solid ground as he expected. Instead, he felt himself lying in a bed of something soft. Almost… woolly.
But he looked down, and saw to his great surprise that he was sitting in mid-air a few feet above the floor.
"What is this meaning of this ridiculous nonsensery?!" he asked.
"Nothing, boyo!" shouted the ancestor of PC Andy from above. "But I may ave just saved your life, like".
Jonathan Joestar did not understand this, and thought it unlikely that the life of a great nobleman would be saved by a mere Whelshman. But his shock and confusion was soon replaced by a different feeling…
One of utter fear.
At the centre of the vast chamber he could see a glass case. The inside of the casket was obscured by years of dust and dirt, but he could tell even from looking at it that it housed an immense, awesome power. A shiver went down his spine.
But yet, Jonathan Joestar was strangely drawn to the terrifying case. He wriggled free of the grasp of the invisible bed of wool, reaching the floor, and walked over to the room's centre.
As he reached the casket, Jonathan Joestar thought he could make out a strange croaking noise. It got louder and louder the closer he got.
Trembling, Jonathan Joestar reached out to the case and began to wipe away the dust that was covering it. He could see the faint markings of an inscription – it looked like an "O".
"Strange! That's not what my book said would be on the tomb."
He continued to wipe away the grime, and he could then make out another "O".
Then a "T".
Then an "H".
Then an "E".
Then an "R".
"Ha!" Jonathan Joestar realised, laughing heartily. "I know what's happened here! Some poor creature of little intellect has misspelled the name!"
Suddenly, the foulest of foul noises began to emanate from the case. Jonathan Joestar could hear the croaking – no, ribbiting – getting suddenly even louder.
"Ribbit, ribbit!"
From inside the case, Jonathan Joestar could feel pure, unbridled rage.
"RIBBIT! RIBBIT!"
The volume of the croaking was down deafening, and Jonathan Joestar was scared like he'd never been scared before.
"RIBBIT! RIBBIT!"
Just then, the glass case SMASHED and a large frog JUMPED STRAIGHT AT JONATHAN JOESTAR'S FACE!
"CHANGE, NOW!"
As soon as Jonathan Joestar heard these strange words emanating from the frog's mouth, he felt his head go into a psychedelic spin. The world turned inside out and everything emanated with kaleidoscopic colours. What was happening?
Suddenly, he was on the ground. He wasn't sure how he got there, but he was looking up at a room that all of a sudden seemed a lot larger. And there was a horrifying giant figure towering over him.
"What in the blazes is going on?" he cried out to the figure. Or at least, he tried to, but all that came out was a croak.
With terror, he looked up at the figure, and could now make out its face. It was the face of… Jonathan Joestar!
"What's wrong, motherfucker?" asked the man in his body, grinning. "Frog in your throat?"
What was happening? Jonathan Joestar, the most noble human to ever live, was now trapped in the body of a mere frog!
Suddenly, a heroic voice echoed from across the room.
"STOP THIS NOW, BOYO!"
Jonathan Joestar looked up to see the ancestor of PC Andy staring at the man in his body from across the room.
"Give the lad his body back!" said the brave Whelshman. "I won't ask a second time, look you".
The man smirked. It was clear that he was not scared of much – if anything.
"Whatcha gonna do?" he asked, coolily. "Throw a motherfucking sheep at me?"
The ancestor of PC Andy smiled.
"Something like that!"
Suddenly, Jonathan Joestar saw something that defied explanation. A giant sheep appeared right next to the Whelsh gentleman! It had red eyes and an aura of fire around it, but otherwise just looked like a very, very big sheep!
"Say hello to my Stando… MRS JONES!"
The ancestor of PC Andy stood up strong, a fierceness in his eyes that Jonathan Joestar had not seen before.
"This is the most powerful Stando in the world. The greatest of Stando users across the land have quaked against the terrifying power of Mrs Jones. And now I have finally found you, and I will have my bloody vengeance for the death of my distant descendant! Now let me ask one more time: GIVE THE MAN HIS BODY BACK!"
The man in Jonathan Joestar's body looked at the fearsome flaming mammal for a few seconds. He then went very quiet.
"Stando, you say. Never heard that one before."
His smile had now gone. He instead looked rather forlorn.
"Oh, I've heard other terms. Mana. The Force. Greensight. Allomancy. But they all describe the same fucking thing…"
He looked at the Whelshman, enraged.
"Magick! Filthy, evil, putrid, vile, DIABOLICAL MOTHERFUCKING MAGICK! Now if you knew anything about your history, then you'd be very scared right now."
As he spoke, he began to pick up some items lying in the shattered remnants of the case.
"I've done this rodeo before, motherfucker. I've seen wars, horrors, attack ships on fire off the shoulders of Orion… all kinds of fucked up shit."
He picked up a trench coat, and slid into it.
"I've seen good friends die, my kingdom destroyed, my planet ravaged…"
He put on a pair of shades.
"I've fought genocidal murderers and warmongers, from Spadang Skaran to the King of Red Lines to Joseph motherfuckin' Starlin."
Finally, he lifted a crown out of the case, and brought it down upon his head.
"All of this is shit I've had to face in my long and bitter war with the devil that is magick. And you think that I'm am going to be scared by a fuckin' magic SHEEP?"
He whipped out two oozies and pointed them at Mrs Jones.
"Oh you silly prannet!" said the ancestor of PC Andy, laughing. "Everyone know that only a Stando can beat a Stando!"
The man smirked.
"That's what they think… but that's because no Stando has met Oother fuckmothering Pendragon!"
The sheep leapt at Oother, spraying deathly fire out of its mouth. In a blaze, Oother peppered the sheep with a hail of bullets, blinding it.
"Call that a Stand?" he said, pulling out a pair of chainsaws and chopping off all the sheep's legs. "WELL IT CAN'T!"
He looked down at the collapsed mess of the ancestor of PC Andy. He was pathetic. He was too pathetic… to talk to anymore.
Oother got out his fists and let loose in a flurry at the sheep.
"MOTHERMOTHERMOTHERMOTHERFUCKERFUCKERFUCKERFUCKER!"
Jonathan Joestar looked in fear as the poor, brave Whelshman and his equally brave Stando exploded in a hail of blood and guts. But even in his fear, he had to admit it did look quite badass.
But then Jonathan Joestar started trembling as Oother approached him.
"Sorry I have to borrow your body, motherfucker" he said, patting Jonathan Joestar's froggy head. "But sometimes sacrifices have to be made in the war against magick. But I hope you can take solace in the fact that I will finish your thesis. And rest assured: it will be the finest motherfucking thesis ever written!"
As Oother faded from view, Jonathan Joestar had the dawning realisation that his own story was over.
For this day was to be the start of Oother's Bizarre Adventure!
TO BE CONTINUED!