Taste the Rainbow
This is for Team Starplug. I own nothing. Warning!! Possibly the most crack-induced thing I've ever written! Yes, there is slash!!
--
"What's wrong with him?"
"He can't hold his high grade!"
"You mean he's gonna spew?"
"Yep! Let's bail!"
The blue and purple jets rocketed off to return to their base, leaving a single, swaggering seeker to wallow in the misery of his drunken stupor.
"Those bastards," he mumbled between heaves of neon, burning his tracheal tubing, tasting just as cheap and disgusting coming back up as it had going down, except with the wretched scrape of chunks of the . . . What had he eaten again? Whatever it was, it was gritty and repulsive! Finishing this thought, he pitched forward; landing miraculously on dry land rather than puddle energon, slumber easily coming to the test subject – Seeker!
--
Sparkplug exited the ARK, glad to finally be going home. As much as he enjoyed the Autobots and cared for their wellbeing, he missed the good old days when he had been able to do whatever, whenever, such as getting horrendously drunk and barfing all over whatever girl had been the pick of his teenage celebration of victory over whatever football team had been beaten.
He gazed down at his pudgy belly and remembered his wife, the homecoming queen with waist-length ebony hair. He remembered how her ever joyous face had suddenly lost its luster when the resonating C# had played, signaling the end of a life. After that, he had let himself go, seeing no reason to take further care of himself, hence the gut. Indeed, it was one of the hardest things in his life to even think on that day, and so, being the kind person that She is, the Almighty Authoress decided to spare the man and changed the story line by switching his route home.
Figuring he would take the long way home, Sparkplug started on his way through the desert, completely unaware of the drastic changes that were to occur.
"What changes?" questioned Sparkplug, gazing at the sky to address the omnipotent Writer.
"No questions, now walk!" came the echoing voice of She-who-must-be-feared, also known as Ben.
"But I don't want to walk! Wouldn't it make more sense if one of the Autobots took me back?" challenged Sparkplug.
The Almighty Writer, seeing the wretched logic within his words, hissed in agony, mind shrieking to get it away, and so it was that the Voice of Ben cried, "Foolish, mortal Traitor!" and there was much panic within the human as the great Writer summoned forth her most powerful weapon, down from the heavens of 'Desk Shelf' and revealed . . . The Gay Stick!!
"W-what's going on?" cried Sparkplug as he was smacked by the feared weapon. And the mountains quaked. And the Earthlings trembled at the waves of power that radiated from the blow. And the Traitor's shirt turned hot pink. And the accursed hard hat dissipated. And so it was that his mind existed around Justin Timberlake's booty in 'Sexy Back'.
"Wait a minute! This is the 80's! That song isn't out yet!" called the vaguely feminine voice of Sparkplug.
"Do you wanna be ugly, too?" shouted the almighty Voice of Ben.
"Walking now! Oh! Just look at that sunset! The pink just goes fabulously with the orange! Mm, mm, mm!" he exclaimed as he sauntered and swayed for home, hands on his hips, to redecorate, leaving Ben to wonder if maybe She had overdone it with the Gay Stick, and so it was decided that the format would be changed from this moment on so as to prevent such errors from occurring again.
--
Starscream knew that he would need the help of a medic to get rid of his hangover, so, as he trudged toward the Autobot base, he considered whom he would take.
"Hey! It's only been an hour! How do I have a hangover already?" shouted the disobedient character.
The Authoress, already annoyed from the Sparkplug incident, simply smacked him with the Gay Stick and watched as . . . nothing happened.
Hitting him a second, third, and even fourth time, She recalled the Great Instruction Manuel, AKA, Your Gay Stick and You, AKA, Gay Sticks for Dummies, AKA
"They get it already!! Crap, just explain why it isn't working!" shrieked Starscream.
Fine. Anyway, She recalled that the Gay Stick would never work on one who was already more blatantly gay than Ryan Seacrest. Snickering to Herself as She smacked him one last time to hear him yelp, She returned the Stick to Desk Shelf.
"Challenge my authority again, Starscream, and I'll pair you with a flesh creature," threatened the Voice of Ben.
"No! Anything but that! I'll be good! I swear it! Look, damaged seeker thinking about which medic is the weakest to deal with my hangover!" he relented, shaking his obsidian helm violently.
The Authoress simply smiled.
And then . . .
"Bitch," grumbled the gay seeker.
"Hey! Just because I like color coordination –"
"- and staring at Megatron's aft –" cut in the Authoress.
"- doesn't make me gay!" he cried in defiance.
And so it was that Starscream found himself immobilized on the ground, Sparkplug working on resetting his systems, Starscream, magically finding the pink squishy highly attractive.
After many hours and conversations that the Authoress is too lazy to write, but will assure you, oh wise and noble Reader, were completely gay, a rainbow appeared over the Decepticon base which was, conveniently, very close. Shortly following the appearance of this rainbow, Mighty Lord Megatron, whom earlier had angered the Great Authoress by hiding her lunch box, was seen sliding down in singing, "Gay Stick, Gay Stick, give me your answer, true! I'm so crazy all for the love of you! It won't be a fancy marriage, I can't fit in a carriage, but you'll look sweet upon the seat of an Astrotrain built for two!"
For obvious reasons, the Decepticons promptly open-fired on their psychotic leader, ensuring Starscream's place as leader of the Decepticons.
Leaping with joy, Starscream snatched up Sparkplug and declared, "I, Lord Starscream, am now leader of the Decepticons, free to use them as I will! My first order of business is to . . . bring Earth into the age of fashion! You, Sparkplug the Gay, shall rule by my side as . . . my interior designer! Mwahaha!"
And there was much rejoicing.
And so it was that the Voice of Ben was never seen or heard from again, until . . .
"Starscream! Sparkplug! My readers want one of you to get pregnant, so go do the nasty!" She ordered.
A three month pregnant Starscream replied, "Already taken care of, dear, though it seems that now, all I can think about is Skittles."
"That reminds me!" cried the Authoress, worry etched on her features. "I forgot to get some Skittles for class day! Frag, now no one can taste the rainbow!"
And so it was that the universe, twitching from such a high level of crack, collapsed in a drug-induced coma and life itself ceased to exist.