... i got this idea whilst taking a dump, so don't expect much. hahahaha. Also, written in about 20 minutes, unbeta'd and written under the influence of a migraine and lots of painkillers.

oh, and i don't own shit.

No Soup for You (or Why Glen got Donuts on November 1st)

Glen didn't know who started it, who suggested it to them. He just knew that he was going to kick the livin' daylights out of them when he found out.

He was just chillin' at home, minding his own business, Halloween Night and all, handing out candy to kids cause his gramma got stuck in the bathroom. Too much prune juice. Was missin' one hell of a party at Maggie's, but hey, it was his GRAMMA. You don't say no to her. You just don't.

Anyway, the doorbell rang. He paused Scary Movie, right when Carmen Electra was running through the sprinklers in her bra, and got up to answer it. Thing was, nobody was there.

At first he thought it was just kids pullin' some dumb-ass halloween prank.

Then he saw it.

... that goddamn semi with the green clowny face on it. He knew that truck. KNEW IT. He'd had nightmares about it when he was a kid.

It was the truck from Maximum Overdrive. And it was sitting on the street, FACING him. Facing his front door, so that those horrible red glowing eyes stared riiiiiight into the front door. Into HIM.

Glen froze. Willed himself not to wet his boxers. Rubbed at his glasses. Wondered what gramma spiked his Big Gulp with.

Then he shut the door.

About half an hour later, during the Shakespeare in Love scene and after he'd finally stopped shaking, the doorbell rang again. Glen's eyes moved from the TV and flicked to the door, uncertain about answering it. Last time it was a kid, cute one in a bumblebee costume (and hell if that didn't make him choke), so he pulled up his big boy undies and got off the couch.

Again, there was nobody there... but a 1958 Plymouth Fury parked in the driveway. The engine rumbled menacingly and Glen could only squeak like a mouse and slam the door.

Christine revved so hard the house shook, and Glen ran upstairs, screaming.

"GRAMMA!"

"You guys are assholes."

"If I may remind you, this was YOUR idea, Miss Madsen." Giggled Bumblebee as he backed out of the driveway and shook off his red Fury disguise. Optimus Prime was about four blocks away, strangely keeping his scary alt-mode, but happily surrounded by children playing with the nose of the big green face on his grill.

"I'm an asshole too." She laughed, shutting off the video camera.

Why did he call for Gramma? WHY? Now she wanted a laxative, and HE had to go get it. WHY did he call attention to himself? WHY?

Now he was walkin' the streets, it was almost 11 at night, the kids were gone, and Glen saw shadows, heard noises, and he never moved faster in his life.

Salvation was in his midst, a 7-11 and it's glorious lights and drunken morons and... nachos. Mmm, nachos. He set his sights on it, didn't deviate, and walked even faster... then he heard the growl.

No, I didn't hear a thing. There is nothing there. Just keep moving, and in the name of sweet baby Jesus, do NOT look behind you.

He never listened to himself before... just a quick peek!

A glance over his shoulder was all he needed.

The massive 1940 Reo panel van with the BEATNGU plate rolled ever so quietly behind him, but as soon as he looked, it honked.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Oh my god, did he just pee himself?"

"Yup." said Ironhide, letting his victim run for the 7-11 without further accostment.

He called a cab home. And he kept his eyes peeled the entire time. Someone was fucking with him. He knew it. But everything primal inside him was keyed up and watchful. And he was mad.

The cab pulled up to his house, and Glen saw it right away. The cop car. He knew that cop car. He'd seen it before, was afraid of it.

And you know what? No way was he going to run, squeal, or pee his pants (again). No, now... NOW, he was gonna get some motherfuckin' payback. BITCH WAS GOING DOOOOOOWN!

Glen calmly paid the taxi driver and walked straight towards the cop car.

"Unit 643 huh? Ya know, I hate cops."

A discarded baseball bat from an earlier game with his cousin laid in the middle of the front lawn, and Glen smoothly picked it up and descended on the cop car with a fury previously unknown to him.

"THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSIN' WITH ME!"

He laid into the fake police car with a vengeance, breaking the side view mirror off, busting the windshield, jumping on the roof, and it didn't move until Glen grabbed the garden hose and moved to shove it inside. Then it peeled the hell out of there faster than a NASCAR driver.

"HAH! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND ALL YOU MOTHAFUCKAS! AAAAHAHAHAHA!"

He tossed the bat over his shoulder and strutted inside, smilin' like he just won the lottery, and gave his gramma her laxatives with pride.

"Holy shit."

"..."

"Was that Barricade?"

"... Yup."

"Wh... why isn't Glen paste by now?"

"Ratchet threatened to disassemble him with a spork if he so much as touched him." replied Jazz.

Maggie burst into laughter. "You froshed Barricade?"

"After all the shit he put us through all these years, hell yeah! He joins our side, we get to have our own payback... don't worry, he passed the test. Glen kicked his ass, and he didn't harm one single hair on his head."

"Poor Glen."

"Bee said it was your idea."

"I'll buy him apology doughnuts tomorrow."

END

Movie credits:

Maximum Overdrive

Christine

Jeepers Creepers