A/N: Took on that fic idea of KittxArtha Forever's from the DB board. Expect extreme randomness, unbelievable OOC-ness to the possible point of canon rape, a nonsensical, wacky plotline, an annoying OC, a few excessive caps-locks, and major weirdness, which is another reason why this has been placed in Parody. Scroll down if you dare. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Booster, or Cinderella.
Edit: Whu - son of a - QuickEdit, leave my spaces and my question marks alone! - thwacks QuickEdit, groans - Looks like a question mark and an explanation point both stuck together is out of the question. - headdesks -
Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a majestic and vast kingdom with slight futuristic features here and there, there was a large, tall, majestic mansion, owned by rich people. See, this person married this very rich woman, but then she died for some unknown reason, and now this man is very wealthy, along with his two sons, and his stepson, Artha, who was now known as Artharella.
Or maybe it was the two bad conks on the head that Artha and Moordryd took when they were fighting each other.
"H-huh…what?" Artha muttered, a hand on his head as he groaned and sat up. He looked around and immediately fell back down. "What in the Magna Draconis - ?" he gasped. "What's with this place?" He looked at himself and screamed. "And what's with the rags? And the apron? Huh?"
He bolted upwards and his head whirled this way and that way, his eyes boggling. "What in the Magna Draconis is going on?"
Just then Moordryd stepped in, wearing rather rich and ridiculous regalia. "What in the Magna Draconis is going on?" he cried. "And, uh…what's with the tatty dress?"
"That's what I asked!" Artha cried back. "And shut up, I don't know why I'm wearing a tatty dress. Is this one of your sick, twisted plans?"
"You know that it's my father that makes all the sick, twisted plans!" Moordryd said. He gave a smug smile. "I'm just the extremely tough guy."
"Sick, twisted plans?" Word said, suddenly stepping in, wearing the same style of rich and ridiculous clothing. "Why, whatever do you mean, my son?"
"Father, good, you're here!" Moordryd gasped. "Where are we?"
"Why, in our lovely house, Moordryd," Word replied quaintly, and scowled. "Now why are you conversing with that filthy and disgusting stubborn boy? You have more important things to do."
Moordryd and Artha blinked in unison as Word turned on his heels with a swish of his clothes. "Something's not right…" Artha said.
"Oh, no scales," Moordryd remarked dryly.
At that moment Vociferous walked in with a rich and ridiculous outfit, very similar to Word and Moordryd's. "Dear brother, what are you doing around the filthy and disgusting stubborn boy?" Vociferous snapped to Moordryd.
The white-haired teenager's jaw fell open. "You – but you're not – what the – this is a – holy – wha – " he stammered, trying to get the proper words out of his mouth . Artha just stood there, blinking in confusion…and slightly amused at all this. Finally Moordryd managed to calm down and say, "But you're not my brother, Vociferous! I have no brothers!"
"Huh, what a rude thing to say!" Vociferous huffed. "Now quit hanging around with our stupid stepbrother over there! He's supposed to be scrubbing these floors! Look at them, they're filthy!"
Artha coughed and nearly choked, and Moordryd nearly fell over in pure shock. "Stepbrother?"they both shrieked, spinning to face each other with wide eyes. "Stepbrother?"
"And wait, whaddaya mean I gotta scrub these floors?" Artha snapped, turning back to Vociferous. He eyed the floor, which looked clean to him, in fact, unnaturally clean. "They're already clean!"
"No, they're not!" Vociferous responded snidely. "Now get to work!"
Artha screamed as a dirty rag suddenly hit his head. A bucket of soapy water was shoved in his hands. He grabbed the rag and threw it on the grounds. "You clean it up!" he retorted. "I gotta be dragon racing and saving the world and all that drac stuff!"
"Saving the world?" Moordryd echoed, his eyebrow arching suspiciously.
"Uh, uh, I mean, helping to save the world," Artha said, folding his arms and sticking his nose in the air. "Unlike what you're doing!"
"Would you stop talking with him already!" Vociferous yelled, pushing Artha to the ground. "The more you talk with him, the less time he's got to make this whole house sparkle."
"But it's…already sparkling," Moordryd pointed out timidly, lifting a finger.
"Whatever!" Vociferous replied, rolling his eyes. "Now get to work, you rat!"
Moordryd was indeed very confused now, but he shrugged and kicked Artha. "You heard him, stable brat!" Moordryd sneered, enjoying picking on the stable boy. "Start cleaning these floors up!"
Artha blew a raspberry at him. "Stupid Moordryd the Moronic," Artha muttered, snatching the rag and throwing it into the bucket of water, causing foam to spray everywhere.
Moordryd brushed off the foam that splattered on his shoulders. "Stupid Artha the Asinine," he retorted.
"Artha? We're calling him Artharella, remember?" Vociferous corrected.
"Artha what?" Artha cried.
"He said Artharella, Artharella," Moordryd snickered. Vociferous punched his arm. "Ow! What?"
"We need to practice dragon jousting, remember?" Vociferous said. "Would probably impress the fair maidens."
"The whu – seriously, who calls them that anymore?" Moordryd responded, making a weird face.
"Ugh, quit acting so stupid!" Vociferous scoffed, turning around sharply and walking away briskly. "And make Artharella get to work! I want to see my face in these floors when you're done!"
"Who'd wanna see your face anyway?" Artha screamed, standing up to follow Vociferous and clobber him, but instead slipped on the soapy rag and fell on the floor. Moordryd gave him an unimpressed glance.
"Well, now this is weird!" Moordryd cried, throwing his arms in the air. "My father is treating me nicely, Vociferous is my brother, you're our stepbrother, and you have a really sissified name."
"Shut up," Artha grumbled.
"I won't shut up, and you wanna know why?" Moordryd said, on the break of hysteria. "Because I'm stuck in some kind of freakish alternate reality!"
"Hey, you know, have you tried wearing pretty red shoes and clicking your heels?" Artha drawled. "I heard that's the quickest way of getting home."
"What?" Moordryd said, staring at Artha strangely.
"Just some thing I read outta this book," Artha said, lifting up a book out of nowhere. "It's called '101 Lines and More of C-something-ness and Really B-something whatever. Now, since the text is slightly faded before the 'ness and the whatever thing I just said and they each started with a 'C', I decided it was called '101 Lines and More of Coolness and Really Bodacious Comments'."
Moordryd slapped the palm of his head against his forehead, snatched the book and flipped through a few pages. "Yeah, this is the book called '101 Lines and More of Cheesiness and Really Bad Clichés', you fool!" Moordryd sighed, throwing the book at Artha's head.
Artha dove at Moordryd and tried breaking his nose, while Moordryd tried kicking Artha to give him a broken neck. At that moment there was a muffled explosion of green, and a rather skinny teenage girl with spiky lime green hair, green eyes and a brightly colored outfit with a dark cape appeared out of nowhere, slight levitated off the ground. "Alright, alright, break it up!" she said, and jumped on both of them, ending up sitting down on top of them.
"Hey, c'mon, get off me!" Artha screamed.
"Yeah, if I do, I don't think you're getting something good in return," the girl snapped.
"I know what I'm gonna be getting if you keep sitting on us," Moordryd groaned. "A hernia! Off, now!"
"Geez, keep your pants on!" the girl said, standing up. Artha and Moordryd gasped and groaned, sitting up.
"Okay, now who in Dragon City are you supposed to be?" Artha asked.
"Oh, I forgot!" she said, grinning widely. "My name's Suesie Dystorshun, and I'm uber-perfect and all that stuff!"
"Can I call you Sue?" Moordryd said, a mocking tone in his voice.
Suesie punched his arm. "Ow," Moordryd gasped as she grabbed a book entitled "The Critical Eye" and burned it up with a small torch.
"So, what do you guys wanna know?" she asked, folding her arms.
"Why do you have such bad fashion taste?" Artha asked.
He winced as she punched his arm. "And why are you so violent?" he hissed, rubbing the spot she just punched.
"Because I'm special," Suesie replied with an annoying grin. "And I know that you guys are stuck here in a strange reality of immense weirdness."
"Weirdness?" Moordryd scoffed, unimpressed with her vocabulary.
"Yeah, it's a word. Got a problem with that?" she retorted.
"Yeah, I – " Moordryd started, ducking as she came flying (literally) at him. There was the sound of breaking glass, followed by a thump. "Why are we here anyway?"
"Why are you here? Why are you here? Well, you are here to be punished inhumanely and unjustly and to experience the torture of your liiiiives!" Suesie said, cackling maniacally.
"Mental," Moordryd muttered under his breath.
He sidestepped smartly as Suesie charged at him again, this time hitting Artha. "Ow!" Artha cried, sitting up. "Geez, no need to play rough!"
"Whatever," she said, standing up and dusting her shoulders. "So, anyway, for that, you're staying here until the torture all ends."
"WHAT?" Artha and Moordryd screamed, their jaws falling open and their eyes widening in terror.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Artha said, looking around. "Where's Parm, Lance, and Kitt? And Beau! And my amulet and gauntlet!"
"Amulet and what?" Moordryd asked suspiciously.
"Nothing!" Artha said, giving an obvious grin. Moordryd rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket, only to realize that his own amulet wasn't there.
Huh? Moordryd thought, blinking. Where's Armeggaddon?
"Right, well, you two are missing some things, which I have in custody," Suesie said.
"Then give 'em back," Artha told her.
"Oh! Well, I only have Beau with me right now," she said, and held out a small newt that strongly resembled Beau.
"AAAH! Beau!" Artha shrieked, holding the morphed dragon in his hands. "Speak to me, boy!"
Beau burped in his face. "Phew!" Artha gasped, coughing. "Yeah, good enough."
"Decepshun is still a normal dragon, though," Suesie said, pointing out the door.
"Alright!" Moordryd said, smirking. Artha rolled his eyes as Beau clambered onto his shoulder.
"Oh, man, this is gonna be soooo funny!" Suesie laughed, a wicked grin spreading on her face.
"Funny?" Artha repeated, grabbing her collar. "Funny? Just how is all this funny? I'm wearing a dress, I don't have Beau with me, and I'm being called Artharella!"
"Oh, so this is Artharella!" Suesie said, snapping her fingers. "So that explains the suspicious and similar atmosphere and title, and why I didn't see any magic swords, evil wizards and sorceresses, damsels in distress or heroic kings!"
Artha and Moordryd exchanged confused glances. "Er…it's a stupid inadequate joke, okay?" Suesie said, rolling her eyes. "Now I'll just leave you all to your torture." And with that she vanished.
"Hey, wait, come back!" Artha screamed, flailing his arms desperately. "We need to get outta here! Aw, scales!"
"Yeah, I know!" Moordryd agreed, seething. "If that weirdo shows her face again, she's a scale-scraping goner." He picked up the water bucket and shoved it in Artha's hands. "Now get cleaning!" he snapped, walking away. "While I'm here, I'll enjoy this moment. You, Artharella, probably won't."
"Hey, you should be respecting me!" Artha yelled, despite the fact that Moordryd wasn't listening. "If I could change into the Dragon Booster right now, I'd kick your stupid little AAAH!"
He slipped on the rag yet again and hit the floor. "Magna Draconis, this is gonna be a looooooong day…" Artha groaned.
To Be Continued
A/N: Feedback and opinions accepted. :P