Chris sat not in his trailer, but in an outdoor recliner in a grassy field. Next time him was an open cooler with various snacks sticking out.
"Last time, on Drag Race: Worldwide…
"Dick Dastardly got hung up in a trap that proved to be 'the pits'.
"The Tennysons found out that someone- heh heh heh- stole a crucial part from their Rustbucket.
"And Duncan and Lindsay took everyone by surprise when they won the Indianapolis 500- with a little motivation from Sweet Tooth.
"What fresh horrors will the open road show our racers today? Find out right now!
"On Drag Race: Worldwide!"
Episode 6: The Flying Monkey Motorcycle Club
"Man! This is so boring!" Ben grumbled, sitting back in his seat.
The Rustbucket had been going down the highways of Illinois without any problems, and the peace had begun to get on Ben's nerves.
No longer content with merely sitting still, Ben got up and started to pace around the RV. Gwen, sitting nearby and reading a book, looked at him and glared.
"Ben, sit down and chill. Not every day has to have a crisis, you know." She said pointedly.
"Ours do!" Ben protested.
"Ben, calm down." Grampa Max said from the driver's seat. "If I know Chris the way I think I know him, you won't have to wait for something to happen."
"You really think so?" Ben asked.
"He stole our cars at the beginning of the race, didn't he?" Grampa Max replied. "Trust me, I'll bet he's got more where that came from."
--
"Grampa's right," Chris said, now back in his trailer. "And now's the perfect time to introduce our racers to the most hardcore group of bikers in the state of Illinois, the Flying Monkeys!"
Chris got out his cell phone and hit the auto dial.
"I met their leader in Ontario while setting up Total Drama Island," Chris explained, as the phone rang. "C'mon…pick up, man! I've got better things to do than- Hey, Harv!" Chris brightened up when he heard someone pick up. "Remember when I promised a spot on another reality show?"
--
Elsewhere in Illinois, the Freakamobile rolled down the road. In the cockpit, Freakazoid held a slushy in his left hand while he held the wheel with his right.
Freaka-Cam: Freakazoid took a slurp from his slushy. "You know, for something run by Chris MacClean, this is pretty tame."
Meanwhile, the Starship drove up alongside the Freakamobile. The cockpit opened up, and Kirby sat up to look at Freakazoid. The superteen, glanced at the star warrior and rolled down his window.
"Hey, Kirby," Freakazoid greeted, "What's up?"
Kirby said nothing. Instead, he opened his black hole of a mouth…
…and inhaled.
Freakazoid watched in horror as the suction of Kirby's maw pulled the slushy out of his hand and into Kirby's mouth. After doing so, Kirby sped away. After a few seconds of stunned slience, Freakazoid's anguished cry rang throughout the air.
"CURSE YOU, LITTLE PINK BALL!"
--
At a rest stop, Wanda looked up.
"Did you hear something?" She asked Keesha.
--
Elsewhere, the Hair Bear Bunch drove past a pair of policemen, who were having a little lunch in their patrol car, cleverly hidden behind a billboard.
As the officers watched three bears riding away on nothing, one officer looked at the other. "Should we, um, report this? Those three bears?"
The second officer, an older, more experienced lawman, shook his head. "Not if you want end up working as a meter maid. Besides," he added as an after-thought, "They were going the speed limit."
--
In his trailer, Chris sat at the Wacky-Radar.
"Looks like Sam and Max are on their way to a close encounter with," Chris paused for a moment to increase dramatic tension. "The Flying Monkey gang!"
--
The Desoto Adventurer charged down the highway, unaware of the danger they were in.
Sam glanced out his window at the wilderness surrounding them and said, "You know, Max, what I like best about the open road is the natural beauty that surrounds and permeates us."
"Yes," Max agreed, "It's enough to distract us from the fact that our vehicle is emitting semi-toxic fumes that are slowly destroying the environment."
Sam laughed. Then a noise caught his ear. "Do you here something? Like a rumbling noise?"
"Don't look at me," Max replied, "I didn't have those nachos at the last stop."
Before Sam could comment on that, several stereotypical bikers- leather jackets, unkempt beards, metal piercing jobs, the works- rode up along and behind the Adventurer. On the backs of their jackets was an emblem that looked like a monkey silhouette with wings.
Freelance Cam: Sam raised a finger and said, "Remember, kids, always be aware of other drivers on the road."
"That way, you can run off the pavement with greater precision!" Max chimed in.
"Can we help you gentlemen?" Sam asked loudly.
One of the bikers responded means of bringing a crowbar down on the Adventurer's windshield, cracking it.
Sam glanced at Max. "You know what? I don't think these fellows want to talk."
"Pull the car over, Sam," Max said, "I'll take care of them."
Sam did so. The bikers stared as Max got out onto the roof of the car.
Max smiled. And then he jumped into the biker gang.
As Sam replaced the cracked windshield with a spare he had in the trunk, he looked over and commented on the violence.
"Ouch…Ooh…Yip! Nice one…" Sam commented. After checking to see if the new windshield was secure, he called over to Max, "Let's go, Max."
"But I'm not done!" Max's voice said, drifting out of the fight-cloud that was obscuring the fight between him and the bikers.
"But I am. Let's go, we're in a race, remember?" Sam reminded.
"Aw, you never let me have any fun." Max complained. He jumped from the fight-cloud and into the Adventurer through an open window. As the car sped off, the bikers(Who were in a dizzy heap) stared.
"What are you waiting for, boys!?" One of the bikers yelled, "Let's get 'em! Move, move, move!"
Freelance Cam: "I felt bad about taking Max away from those bikers," Sam said, "But I figured there'd be plenty of time for nonsensical combat when we get to the communist countries."
--
Chris took a sip from a cup of coffee and said, "Good ol' Freelance Police, being sure to give us our daily recommended dosage of carnage. Let's now go to Hong Kong Phooey, and get our daily recommended dosage of kung-fu."
--
In a deserted parking lot near an abandoned mall, Hong Kong Phooey looked around. All around him were various bikers, each of whom were wearing a jacket that had the words, 'Flying Monkeys' on the back.
Unphased, Hong Kong confided in Spot, "Don't worry, Spot, I'm sure they're not as bad as they make themselves out to be." To the bikers he said, "What's up?"
"Here's what's up," One of the bikers answered, swinging a chain over his head. "We wreck your ride, and we'll get on very own spot on TV!"
The other bikers yelled in agreement, each of them dreaming of an 'Flying Monkey Hour' on cable.
"Or maybe they're worse then they appear," Hong Kong admitted to Spot.
Spot grumbled.
"I am giving you motorcyclists one chance to let me pass," Hong Kong called out, "I, too, am on a television show, and there may be children watching, who might be traumatized by any violence that might occur."
The bikers laughed.
Hong Kong Cam: Hong Kong Phooey arched his eyebrows and gave the camera a knowing smile. "My plan is to give any opposition a quick demonstration of my kung-fu skills, so as to dissuade them from blocking my way to victory."
Hong Kong Phooey, unaffected by the mocking laughter of the Flying Monkeys, got out of the Phooeymobile. After reviewing his Hong Kong Book of Kung-Fu, Phooey began to leap and hop all over the place, yelling battle cries and chopping the air.
As the bikers watched Hong Kong flip and jump around the parking lot, Spot pulled out a baseball from the Phooeymobile's compartment. Taking aim, Spot threw a fastball at the biker's motorcycles, which were conviently lined up in a row.
Bonk!
Like dominoes made of steel and run on gas, the motorcycles fell one by one until they were all down. It was at this time Hong Kong finished his display by landing next to the bike pile.
"Our bikes!" Screamed one of the bikers.
Hong Kong glanced at them ruined motorcycles. "Well, I did warn you, didn't I?"
"Get him!" And the bikers began to move in on the 'kung-fu master.' Hong Kong braced himself for battle- and was pulled off his feet when Spot drove by in the Phooeymobile and grabbed him.
"Good idea, Spot," Hong Kong said, getting back into the driver's seat. "I can't waste my time on these guys, we've got a race to win!"
As the Phooeymobile drove off, the Flying Monkeys got their bikes up and charged after them.
--
In his trailer, Chris looked up from a book he was reading. "Fun Fact; Did you know that the Flying Monkeys are the biggest biker gang in the US? So big, in fact, that they have their own divisions?"
--
On another roadway, the Freakamobile rode up alongside the Starship. In the Starship's cockpit, Kirby had a bag of chips that he was happily eating. Outside, Freakazoid rolled down his window and reached out for Kirby.
"Must…avenge…slushy!" Freakazoid grunted.
Unfortunately, Freakazoid wasn't paying to much attention to how the wheel was turning, and this resulted in both the Freakamobile and Starship being pushed off the road.
Crash!
When the dust had settled, Freakazoid and Kirby were sitting outside their flipped-voer cars, as Tokkori flew around and pecked at Freakazoid's head.
"What do you think you're doing!? Huh!?" the little bird screeched.
Kirby, still munching on his chips, looked up. Feeling a little bad for Freakazoid, Kirby reached into his bag and pulled out some chips. He then held them up to Freakazoid. Freakazoid took the chips and ate them.
"Sorry about your car," Freakazoid said after swallowing. "Here, let me help."
As Kirby and Freakazoid began to flip their cars back right-side up, the sound of engines filled the air. Turning around, they found themselves cornered by the local division of the Flying Monkeys.
"Hey, suckers," the lead biker sneered. "Got the time?"
"Why, yes I do!" Freakazoid replied cheerfully. He whipped out a pocket watch and began to study it. "Hmm, it says two, but I haven't reset this thing since we left New York…does anyone know what time zone we're in?"
The bikers looked at each other.
"I think we're in central…" One said.
"Naw, we're still in eastern." Another cut in.
As the bikers began to argue over the timezones, Kirby and Freakazoid took that as an opportunity to leave.
"Okay, if it's 10:00 in Japan, that means…" the lead biker trailed off when he saw the Freakamobile and Starship roll away. "Argh! They're getting away! After them!"
--
"Let's check up on our racers with the world-renowned Wacky-Radar, shall we?" Chris asked rhetorically, flashing his pearly whites for the camera. He turned to the screen and frowned before smiling more sadistically. "Well! Looks like those lucky enough to meet the Flying Monkeys are converging on the same road…!"
--
As it turned out, there were multiple entrances from the side-roads…all of them at the same point. While this may seem like a problem for cars, it was only that way if multiple cars entered the road at the same time. As it was, each Drag Race: Worldwide race car entered at a slightly different time, and was spared the danger of a collision. Unfortunately, the three different divisions of didn't, and so they weren't.
CRASHCRASHCRASHCRASH!
None of the racers seemed to notice that their pursuers were no longer chasing them, having ended up in a million dollar pileup.
--
"Oh, man!" Chris laughed, "Wipe out! So much for the Flying Monkeys! As we leave Illinois, our positions now are…
"In first place, Square's Wheels…
"In second place, Daddy's Ferrari…
"In third place, the Magic School Bus…
"In fourth place, the Rustbucket…
"In fifth place, the Mean Machine…
"In sixth place, the Desoto Adventurer…
"In seventh place, the Starship…
"In eighth place, the Freakamobile…
"In ninth place, the Phooeymobile…
"And in tenth place, Sweet Tooth. What surprises will our racers find in the next state? Find out next time, on Drag Race: Worldwide!"
--
(A/N: There's a reference to 'The Wiz' in this chapter…But I bet you found it already!)