A/N: Hi there! Chapter 7 preparing for lift off! Okay… I'll get back to ground now and get rid of some of that lovely suspense. I am wondering how people are going to react to Ralph's find though... *nerves building up*

Lily Von Schweetz: I can't say I'm a fan of glitter either – I try to avoid its use wherever possible, so I also empathise with the tragic plight Vanellope is currently enduring.

UmbreOn: Yup, I am 100% with you on that one – whoever thought of such an annoying craft decoration?

Emmz: I've got a while to go before Felix and Calhoun return home *failed maniacal laugh* -so unfortunately, you'll have to put up with me and my insane drivel for a bit longer. Personally, I can't wait to reveal their reaction either! Secondly, I have three younger siblings aged 10, 7 and 5 – I can totally understand why you had to spend so long cleaning up glue and glitter!

On with the story….

-WIR-

"I went to fetch something to help us with the job"

For Vanellope, to hear those words upon Ralph's lips, was like verbal manna falling from heaven – the sweetest ambrosial nectar. Savouring those words, she felt her hopes soar on the wings of expectancy. Secretly, she was hoping he had brought one of her cleaners from Sugar Rush. In an ideal world, he may have even got hold of a time machine, so they could rewind the clock – ergo, she would consequently avoid the use of glitter. A girl can wish…

He pulled out the object he was holding and waved it under Vanellope's button nose. Surveying the small square shaped case, she deduced it was none other than a music album.

The Best of Michael Jackson

Vanellope peered at the object, scrutinizing it carefully before opening her mouth.

"So… was he any good at cleaning Ralph? Cos I thought you said you had got something to help us with the job?"

It was obvious her sarcastic streak hadn't vanished completely, proven by such a snide remark. He furrowed his eyebrows in exasperation.

"I don't recall Michael Jackson being remembered for his services to cleanliness kid - this fella probably had a lot of personal cleaners, like yourself"

Vanellope rolled her eyes and groaned, attempting to manually flick the glitter off the rug.

Grown - ups were such strange beasts- how on earth could a compact disk solve all their problems? Was Ralph even in his right frame of mind? Maybe he had inhaled too many of those bubbles…

Ralph could see Vanellope hadn't quite grasped his point. Sighing, he took hold of her suspender tool belt, whipped her upwards and dangled her in front of his face .Vanellope barely had chance to take a breath before she registered being hoisted skywards.

"Hey Ralphhie, by presidential decree, I order you to put me down!"

She giggled uncontrollably, whilst being swung back and forth through the air. Ralph set her down gently, as if she were a precious stone rather than a feisty misfit.

"Van, look at me"

Looking into his hazel eyes, she obeyed his somewhat direct command. He stooped down on one knee and bent down to her level. Lacing one of his fingers under her chin, she was forced to observe his earnest features.

"I know you had good intentions for this whole cleaning malarkey kid, but let's face it. Cleaning is probably one of the most tedious jobs going and we as individuals have not been programmed to enjoy it. Felix…maybe, but that's beside the point. Look what I'm saying is, there is no reason we can't lighten the load a bit… I mean… music works wonders in terms of motivation. Seeing how you started singing before – that made the job the slightest bit more bearable. Do you understand what I'm saying kid?"

Ralph seemed to plead to Vanellope. He knew fancy words and speeches were not his forte – he left that to the literary experts like Calhoun, but his tone was literally dripped with sincerity. Cleaning was something that bored him to tears, which was why his house was always such a tip. But for a grown gamer it was one thing, for a child, it was another.

Vanellope screwed up her face in concentration. She had an inkling of what he meant, but hadn't quite understood the bigger picture. Somewhat reluctantly, she attempted to answer the giant wrecker.

"Soooo… like when Mr Litwak listens to his iPod while he tidies the arcade?"

Ralph thought for a moment before nodding vigorously.

"Sure"

She sighed half-heartedly, drooping her shoulders is dismay.

"I guess we could give it a try"

She stifled a small yawn and went back to trying to flick glitter off the carpet. Ralph pursed his lips – this hadn't quite been the reaction he had been hoping to gage. Usually, the little candy whirlwind had enthusiasm above and beyond the norm when it came to embracing new ideas. Ordinarily, he had to rein her in before new things were introduced and he had convinced himself she would be enthralled to whistle while they worked. But here, he faced the polar opposite side of this somewhat tarnished coin. Now, she stood before him, a subdued and apathetic little being, lacking interest in anything other than the glitter infested rug. It seemed that cleaning had really crushed her spirits.

Ralph wrinkled his forehead. He would soon put a stop to her miserable demeanour and the consequent ambience it created.

"You know what kid? I think you are going to like this…"

He strode over to the stereo system, glancing at the little listless figure reduced to pinging glitter off the rug. Vanellope barely even acknowledged his comment. Very carefully, he fiddled with various knobs, until a little tray opened, ready to receive the anticipated disk. He placed the CD inside and began to adjust frequency equalisers, bass controls and a whole array of other technicalities. Finally, he poured over the inscription on the CD case and without much hesitation, he selected a track. The machine began to whir with life. Ralph looked back at Vanellope. The disinterested child was totally engrossed in her mind numbing chore. Ralph smiled and slowly turned up the volume.

Dong, Dong, Dong, Dong….

Vanellope pricked her ears up as the synthesised sounds started to fill the air. The tinny timbre beckoned her attention, as if attempting to draw her away from her menial task. Ralph grabbed two long wooden spoons from the kitchen work top and started to play on an imaginary kit, as the drum beat started to kick in. Her eyes lit up with glee as the low pitched drones came to an end and were replaced with some groovy guitar riffs. Those polyphonic interwoven melodies produced a somewhat hypnotic effect upon the small child. Vanellope couldn't help herself and started to tap her feet in time to the rhythm as Ralph bounded round the room, brandishing his newly found drum sticks. Then, he did something the small child had never seen him do in her entire presidential career.

He started singing…

They Told Him Don't You Ever Come Around Here,

Don't Wanna See Your Face, You Better Disappear

The Fire's In Their Eyes And Their Words Are Really Clear

So Beat It, Just Beat It

Vanellope practically had to peel her jaw from the floor as she watched the dramatic transformation that had taken place. Gone was her apprehensive bumbling wrecker – he had been replaced with a confident, gruff sounding king of swing. Ralph was clearly enjoying himself, proven by the manner he completed the actions to the song and blasted out the melody

You Better Run, You Better Do What You Can

Don't Wanna See No Blood, Don't Be A Macho Man

You Wanna Be Tough, Better Do What You Can

So Beat It, But You Wanna Be Bad

He was waving his hands all over the place, assuming manly postures and just generally having fun. Vanellope could hardly believe it was the same person, who was now dancing with so much freedom before her. However, what he did next demonstrated exactly how it was possible to clean and enjoy oneself. Seizing the rug with his giant hands, he hauled it skywards and dragged it towards the back door. Vanellope stared in horror as he used his spoon drumsticks to pound the suspended rug rhythmically.

"Ralph, are you maa…."

He ignored her completely, enraptured by the melody.

Just Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It

No One Wants To Be Defeated

Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight

It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Right

Just Beat It, Beat It

Just Beat It, Beat It

Just Beat It, Beat It

Just Beat It, Beat It

It suddenly dawned upon her what Ralph had been hoping to achieve through this bizarre procedure. She watched as the microscopic specks of glitter flew off the rug and floated through the air in a shimmering haze. The sight was almost magical for the poor girl, who had been striving for so long to remove the substance manually. The mischievous sparkle returned to her eyes as she realized what wonders the music was working. Ralph continued to beat the rug in time to the music, thoroughly relishing the opportunity to unleash some of that beastly wrecking strength in a manner most unusual. Vanellope skipped over to the stereo.

Suddenly, Michael Jackson came to an abrupt halt. Ralph pouted at Vanellope disappointedly.

"Whadda ya do that for kid? I was just getting into the groove"

To prove his point, he began to sway his hips back and forth, shaking his derrière. Vanellope chuckled with delight, before assuming her normal impish countenance.

"I thought we'd make it a little more interesting…"

She turned the treble controls down, so the singing was slightly muted. Restarting the song, she increased the volume of the bass's low pitched hum. The reverberations caused by her consequent fiddling echoed deep within her small frame and she shivered in glee, her spine tingling with anticipation. Befuddled, Ralph watched her skid across the kitchen to fetch a brush.

"Van, what are you doing!"

The sonorous instrumental introduction had just started to warm up and it seemed that Vanellope hadn't heard him over the din. However, his question was soon answered when at last she turned to face him and launched into song.

We told him we would do our best to clean around here

Don't wanna see no mess, we'll make it disappear

They won't believe their eyes, when they find the place all clear

We'll clean it, Just Clean it.

Ralph could hardly believe his ears, as he stood absorbing the latest rendition of one of his all-time favourites. Vanellope was sweeping the floor, where the recent flurry of glitter had just settled, but she too was completing this task in time to the music. Spontaneity obviously worked wonders for the soul. Ralph's face broke out into a wide grin as she instigated her next verse.

We will not run, we're gonna do what we can

Don't wanna see no dirt, it ain't part of our plan

It's gonna be tough, but we'll do what we can

We'll clean it, Just Clean it

Vanellope was warbling at the top of her lungs. As she had only heard the original version moments ago, her timing wasn't quite spot on and the tune was invariable, but she certainly deserved full marks for her improvisational skills. The chorus only amplified Ralph's smile all the more, as her rhythmical brush strokes kept to the beat.

Just Clean It, Clean It, Clean It, Clean It

Grime and filth will be defeated

Scouring and mopping, with all of our might

We will not stop, till we get it right

Just Clean it, Clean it

Just Clean it, Clean it

Just Clean it, Clean it

Just Clean it, Clean it

The instrumental refrain returned and Ralph seized the opportunity to address the small child.

"Kid that's amazing, how did you do it? You've just heard the song…"

She smirked.

"Easy my main man – just open your mouth and SING!"

Ralph slapped his phizog in frustration. Trying to get a straight answer from Vanellope was sometimes like trying to draw blood from a stone. In this instance, he wasn't particularly bothered, as he watched his best friend skip round with a brush and lose herself in the music. As the instrumental came to a close, she resumed her singing duties. Happily, Ralph continued to beat the rug, ridding it from the infiltrated glitter. Literally, it was a case of if you can beat it, join it.

We'll soak and scrub and sweep and rub and do what we can

Don't wanna see no stains, or we'll be in a jam

We'll get through this alive, if we do what we can

We'll clean it, Just clean it

Upon finishing this stanza, she used the brush handle to indicate her companion.

"Take it Ralph!"

Turning sharply, he grimaced, but seeing how enveloped Vanellope had become, he figured it best just to go with the flow.

UHH… We're gonna prove that housework don't have us scared

It could well cause some.. err strife, anger beyond compare

We'll bathe and brush and blot and flush

And take the greatest care

We'll clean it... and it won't look so bad!

Ralph proclaimed triumphantly, proud of his musical efforts. He had never felt a buzz like this before. The tingling joyous sensation spread like wildfire through his enormous physique and emerged as light feathery pin pricks prancing daintily on his skin. Who knew manipulating classic songs could be so much fun? He hardly had time to catch a breath before they resumed belting out the chorus. It was only natural that Ralph couldn't quite remember all of Vanellope's new lyrics; therefore, melodic unity was largely attempted, but not achieved completely.

Just Clean It, Clean It, Clean It, Clean It

Grime and filth will be defeated

Scouring and mopping, with all of our might

We will not stop, till we get it right

Just Clean it, Clean it

Just Clean it, Clean it

Just Clean it, Clean it

Just Clean it, Clean it

Vanellope's eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated joy as the lead guitar began a solo recital. Dropping to her knees and clutching the brush to her, she began an imaginary performance, her fingers dancing lightly up and down the length of the former cleaning utensil. She screwed her eyes tightly shut and writhed about, as if she was enduring severe agony. She thrashed her pony tail wildly from side to side and it was any wonder her little candy accessories didn't fly off from the sheer force. As the pitch of the phrases changed, so did her interesting body postures. Ralph found it incredibly hard to believe the child had not been introduced to the King of Pop before – the manner in which she behaved seemed to defy the facts. She seemed to move in perfect harmony to the music, appreciating the combination of delay and chorus guitar sounds. Suddenly, the funky riffs came to an end and as a result, so did Vanellope's seemingly painful gyrations. Clapping wildly, they sung out the chorus once again.

Just Clean It, Clean It, Clean It, Clean It

Grime and filth will be defeated

Scouring and mopping, with all of our might

We will not stop, till we get it right

Just Clean it, Clean it

Just Clean it, Clean it

Just Clean it, Clean it

Just Clean it, Clean it

They continued singing, sweeping and swatting glitter from the rug, thoroughly relishing the experience. As the music started to fade into the distance, they carried on crooning, each time improving with the practice. By now, almost all the glitter had been pounded off the detailed carpet and swept away by the now jubilant Vanellope. With the tune growing fainter by the second, Ralph gave the rug a final rhythmic shake, shooting the few remaining glitter particles through the air. Vanellope watched as the sparkly mist floated down to earth and waited for those dwindling specks to fall into her own cleaning realm. Once they touched the floor, their fate was sealed and with several swift brush strokes, they were gone for good. With those final diminishing notes wavering in the air, Vanellope slowly turned to face her flabbergasted friend. Ralph suddenly grew apprehensive, seeing his little president slump her shoulders and sigh wearily.

Hadn't she enjoyed their little song or dance?

However, all his previous concerns vanished when a small, barely audible murmur emerged from the lips of his beaming buddy

Just Clean It….

-WIR-

A/N: There you go! The mystery behind the title has been solved. Cheesy – I know. I hope all you Michael Jackson fans out there aren't in any way offended by my lyrical manipulations – this was only supposed to be a funny little story and it is great music to clean up to. Amazingly, my rendition actually fits to the tune – not that I have tried it…

Remember, I am particularly fond of reviews… especially with cherries on top!

Honeyglows abounding! x

Ps. Beat It belongs to Michael Jackson. Clean It belongs to me. Funny sort of disclaimer...