Flea Market. Noun. A market, typically outdoors, selling secondhand goods.

Synonyms : rag fair

"You should be locked up for half of this shit!" Bumblebee griped as he struggled out of the trailer with another arm load of Wheeljack's odds and ends.

"Just put that over there with the other stuff." the old inventor growled from his motorized wheelchair.

Bumblebee promptly opened his arms wide and dumped the detritus unceremoniously at his feet right where he was standing.

"Why, ya little punk! That's vintage stuff!"

"Vintage crap."

"Oh yeah? Kind of like a four million year old VW bug, huh?"

"Kiss my ass!"

"Fuck you, kid!"

"Come on you two, don't start." Prowl sighed as he came shuffling up to set down an old lawn chair behind a card table. He sank into it gratefully, easing the ache in his old dents and rusty joints.

It was fine summer day and the old retired Autobots had hooked up a Wheeljack's trailer and drove out to the local fair grounds to set up a few tables and partake in the annual flea market.

Prowl turned in his seat to look back at Trailbreaker where he still sat hooked up to the trailer in vehicle mode.

"How's it lookin' you guys?"

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker turned around from where they stood behind Trailbreaker, at a loss themselves for all the the black smoke that rolled out from under his chassis.

"I think he broke his back."

"That or he crapped himself again."

"I can't transform. I think I'm blind." Trailbreaker groaned.

Prowl sighed.

"You really gotta be more careful, Bumblebee." he said as he turned around.

"Don't start on me Prowl." Bumblebee grumped. "Wasn't my idea to drive out here in that old gas hog and sell this two-bit junk."

"You were the one drivin'!" Wheeljack jabbed a finger at him."Ya damn lush. Half my stuff was in workin' order this morning. Now look at it! We should start callin' you Trailer-breaker."

"This crap was broken when you invented it!"

"Good ol' never-turn-away-a-bottle Bumblebee!" Wheeljack ignored him with a shake of his head.

"What about Trailbreaker-breaker?" Huffer chimed in.

"That too."

"Fuck you, Huffer. I should have driven you blind old bastards off a cliff!" Bumblebee fumed.

"The way you drive you probably would have messed that up to." Wheeljack scoffed. "But I'm glad you're seeing double kid, because then you can see four of these!" And he promptly held up both middle fingers.

"Fuck you guys, man. This is gonna be a great day." Bumblebee grumbled as he tipped back his flask of anti-freeze. "Eighty bucks worth of gas to make two dollars and fifty cents off this crap!"

"Whatta ya talking about? This is some good shit! Look here!" Wheeljack snatched up the nearest unidentifiable gadget off one of the tables. "See that? That's a C note if there every was one!"

"You don't even know what it does."

"Sure I do. It's got four buttons right here for different functions."

"So push one."

"Uhh...well, that is to say...I don't...hey, fuck you Bumblebee!"

"Alright that's enough you two. They're going to open the sale soon." Prowl sniffed, shifting in his chair.

As Wheeljack settled the other old autobot cars around rickety tables to sort his stuff, Optimus suddenly came running up, trailing a balloon and gripping a bag of popcorn.

"Pony! They have Prowl rides here!" He cried.

"Huh? Optimus, what?" Prowl turned and squinted up at his old leader in the noon day sun.

Bluestreak came wheezing up behind Optimus as Prowl leaned over and looked at him dubiously.

"Bluestreak?"

"Well...they hadpony rides. Had being the key word to use." Bluestreak mumbled, wiping his forehead off with a handkerchief.

"Oh, nooo! Dammit Bluestreak, it was your turn to watch him!" Prowl straightened back up as Prime wandered away.

"Well he slipped his leash! One second I'm buying him mini doughnuts and the next second he cuts in line and hops on!"

"Oh fer Chrissake!" Wheeljack rolled his eyes from his chair.

"No pony is gonna hold up under forty metric tons of Autobot." Bluestreak went on, pulling up his own lawn chair.

"The kids are still screamin'." He hooked a thumb back out at the crowds as he sat down.

"Hi ho, Silver! Away!" Prime shouted, tossing a handful of parts into the air off one of the tables.

"Gawdammit, get him away from my stuff! Where's his tinker toys?!" Wheeljack bitched.

As Bumblebee bundled Prime back behind the tables, Wheeljack zipped over to Prowl.

"I ain't payin' for that fuckin' pony! No way! It'll eat up all my profit." he protested.

"Who the fuck are you kiddin'? They'll probably pay us to haul this junk outta here!" Bumblebee piped up from where he settled Optimus down back by the trailer.

"Fuck you, kid." Wheeljack turned back around. "The only thing you ever invented was a pain in the ass!"

"Fuck you too! Prime has a better chance of building something useful with his tinker toys here than you ever could."

"Is that so?!"

"Fuckin' A it is! Look here. Aren't these your legs? I bet you didn't even know these were in here!" Bumblebee went on as he stepped over and pulled at a table heaped with junk.

"Hey! Gimme those, ya little shit!"

"Check it out everybody." Bumblebee looked around. "Here's a quick Wheeljack impression. Look what I invented it's fuckin' awesome! BOOM!" he cried as he tossed the twisted old legs up into the air.

The other old Autobot cars all cackled, slapping the tables and grinning at Wheeljack.

"Shaddup ya bums! Get back to work. I'm payin' ya by the hour, here." Wheeljack snarled.

"Actually ya ain't payin' us at all, ya cheap old fucker." Cliffjumper turned around with a frown, a dirty apron around his waist as he stood next to an old hotdog grill.

Just then Mirage, who was poking his way through an old box of junk, triggered something by accident. The box exploded into ash and a purple beam seared out and went clean through Cliffjumper who slumped down to his knees and flopped over without a word.

Bumblebee straightened back up cautiously and looked around.

"Jesus Christ! See what I mean, Prowl?! What do you say to that?!"

"I say get your ass over there and turn those dogs." Wheeljack demanded.

"Come on, knock it off! Bumblebee see if he's still alive." Prowl sighed.

"Well well well! If it isn't the Autoclods!" A grating old familiar voice called out.

The Autobots turned to see their old enemies the Decepticons standing on the other side of the row of tables.

An aged Soundwave stood faithfully behind Megatron's wheelchair, with Starscream and his walker on his left and the Triplechangers on his right. The Insecticons stood behind them, arguing over a soda. Megatron himself leaned forward with a sneer, his rheumy old eyes leering out from his rust stubble covered face.

"For a moment I thought this was a junkyard judging from all the old cars on hand." He wise cracked and the other Decepticons all cackled.

"You would know one!" Bumblebee glared as he helped Cliffjumper back to his feet. Megatron turned his baleful glare on him.

"Pisspot, isn't it?"

"Bumblebee!"

"Close enough."

"What do you want Megatron?" Prowl shakily got to his feet.

"Want?! Ha! All I see here is bunch of rusty crap that should have been recycled years ago. And the stuff you're selling is pretty useless too."

The Decepticons all cackled again. Wheeljack came forward as Megatron began poking around the assorted piles in front of him.

"Keep braggin' tough guy! Many of these inventions you see here foiled your plans easily enough."

"You couldn't foil a TV dinner, you clown." Starscream added.

"Is that so? This from the guy who did our work for us half the time."

"Shut up, you!"
"What was that? What is he talking about?!" Megatron demanded, dropping an oily gizmo back on the table and turning to glare up at Starscream.

"What, ya never told him?" Wheeljack went on. "It was a breeze, man. Every time there was a new evil scheme of yours, ol' Starscream here left the backdoor open every time." Wheeljack beamed as the other Autobots looked on.

"Yeah, back in the day things were pretty easy with Starscream around." Bluestreak piped up.

"Don't listen to these old rust heaps!" Starscream added nervously as Megatron's eyes narrowed.

"I've been itching to tell you that for years." Wheeljack crowed.

"Shut up, you globe headed fool!"

"Most of the time all we had to do was show up." Wheeljack ignored him. "Starscream here usually took care of the rest. Better than a monkey with a crowbar."

"Traitor!" Megatron snarled, thrusting up his cardboard tube fusion cannon.

Starscream batted it aside.

"Here try this. "Wheeljack leaned over and offered Megatron the gizmo he still held in his hand. Starscream raised up his walker shakily with both arms.

"No one tells lies about me, you Autobot wretch!" He cried as he swung with all his feeble strength.

Wheeljack caught the walker's legs and he and Starscream started up an impromptu tug of war across the table.

"Ya wanna piece of me, huh?" Wheeljack cried.

"There's enough of them laying all over the place!" Starscream countered.

"Astrotrain! Blitzwing! The Autobots are attacking!" Megatron cried.

Snatching up handfuls of rusty junk, he began throwing it at the Autobots who grabbed up their own armload of missiles and started throwing it back at him like a junkyard food fight.

"Hey! Stop that!" Wheeljack cried as he held Starscream in a headlock. "You break it you bought it!"

"It was already broken." Bumblebee mumbled from where he stood eating a hotdog.

"Fuck you, kid."

"Get them, you fools!" Megatron howled and the Decepticons, with more enthusiasm than actual success, tried to jump over the tables and wrestle with the Autobots.

Shrapnel slipped and fell off his table in a hail of junk, Kickback slowly crawled on his hands and knees under another where Cliffjumper began beating him about the head with a grill fork, and Bombshell fell over with Prowl and Bluestreak, bitching at Astrotrain while he swatted them all with an old clothesline pole.

"Get off me!"

"Shit, my hand broke off."

"Hit the autobots, you old moron!"

"You drank all the pop!"

"Point that the other way you idiot!"

"I think I'm having a stroke."

"Where are my teeth?"

"Are those hotdogs?"

"Where am I?"

"I need a nap."

"I'm on your side!"

"No you're not!"

"Oh yeah."

"Does anyone remember how to transform?"
"Who are you?"

"Gimme back my hand!"

"Gimme five bucks first."

Megatron was directing the battle when he eyed Optimus standing there holding his balloon.

"Prime!" He cried, pushing his chair away from the table and thrusting up his 'fusion cannon' to blast away.

"What's wrong with this damn thing!?" He roared, lowering his arm and beating on the cannon with his fist.

"Wheeljack must have fixed it." Bumblebee sneered.

"Fuck you kid!"

With a curse Megatron struggled up out his chair. He squared off across from Optimus and tried to summon up an imperious pose.

"So it's finally come to this! I should have killed you years ago...uh...umm..."

"Optimus." Prowl wheezed as he slumped back into his lawn chair.

"Optimus!" Megatron finished.

"Who? What?" Prime looked around.

"My balloon!" he cried in dismay, noticing that he had let it go and it was floating away. Before Megatron could say anything more, Prime, without looking, came running right at him, slamming him back into his wheelchair and knocking him over backwards in the process. He barreled on right through the other struggling Transformers as he chased his balloon through the air.

"Aagh! I broke my fuckin' hip!" Megatron cried out. "Soundwave do something!"

Starscream pulled away from Wheeljack and seeing Megatron, his eyes lit up.

"Megatron has fallen! I guess that makes me the new leader! Ahahahaa!" he cried.

"Silence, traitor!"

Starscream promptly turned around and stepped on Megatrons face before striking a pose and continuing his speech.

"This is just sad." Bumblebee sighed, shaking his head and tipping back his flask.

ooo

Flint adjusted his American flag bandanna and scratched his ample belly through his dirty muscle shirt as he stood behind several makeshift tables of goods.

"How much for the broken shovel?" a woman inquired, holding up a rusty shovel head.

"Forty two bucks."

"I'm sorry I didn't realize you were insane." she scoffed as she dropped it back on the table and turned to walk away.

"Hey, screw you lady! I once rang that shovel off the head of Destro!"

She waved him off and he turned away, disgusted.

Some way down the row of sellers, he could see the Autobots and Decepticons being separated by ground security.

"Whatta pile up. It's always the same." He grumped, looking around for his beer.

Cobra Commander came wheeling out from under an old patched up canvas awning, an oxygen tank strapped to his chair with a tube running up under his metal mask. He clutched a huge soda and a half eaten hotdog in his gnarled old hands, leaning out over his knobby old knees to take a look.

"Who the hell is making all that noise?" His dry voice rasped.

Flint ignored him.

"You gonna eat that?"

The End