Disclaimer: I do not own the video this fic is based on. Disclaimer is as disclaimer does.
The car chase scene ends here. Ta-da! AND a flashback at the end!
"Can't you go any faster?!" Pete yelled at Joe.
Joe got angry. "Excuse me, Pete, but do you have any idea how far we are above the speed limit already?!"
"I DON'T CARE! IT'S NOT LIKE THERE'S TRAFFIC AROUND HERE!"
"FINE!" Joe sped up even more, reaching about eighty miles per hour. He pulled on a sharp turn, sending Pete sliding across the car and almost right off of it.
"HOLY SHIT, I'M ON THE CAR, YOU KNOW!" Pete hollered.
"SPEED UP, SLOW DOWN, SPEED UP, SLOW DOWN! MAKE UP YOUR MIND! AND DON'T YELL AT THE DRIVER!" Joe shouted back.
Pete held onto the car tighter and bit himself on the wrist both to calm and steady himself and to make sure he wasn't having a nightmare.
Sorel kept chasing after them at a steady pace. With many different weapons floating beside him, he took aim with his first weapons of choice: forks. He tossed a few particularly big ones at the vehicle.
One fondue fork hit and pierced the windshield without shattering it. "Whoa, look how cool that looks!" Andrew was mesmerized by the spider web-like crack in the back windshield.
Another couple forks weren't aimed quite as carefully and hit the bumper, and another didn't even make impact with the car. Frustrated by this, he took better aim and finally landed a fork in Pete's side.
"DUDE! AGAIN WITH THE FORKS!" He pulled it out. "That almost got to my gallbladder."
"This is familiar all right, but not from my driver's test…" Patrick said to himself.
Sorel growled and sped up. Joe sped up in response.
"Hey, guys…?" Joe mumbled.
"What?" Everyone responded in unison.
"Is this a bad time to mention that we don't have… a lot of gas left…?"
Before anyone could press the 'oh shit' button (located conveniently on your temple, by the way), Sorel used knives as his next choice of projectiles.
Pete dodged a bread knife, a carving knife, and a butter knife, and they all took residence in the roof.
Joe was silent for a second. "There's a carving knife… slicing part of my 'fro…" It was true, as the point of the carving knife had gone into his hairdo (but not into his head).
"Heads up!" Pete said. A steak knife went flying through the hole in the roof and landed on the dashboard. "And that's not a 'fro yet!"
"That was lucky…" Patrick murmured.
"We're low on gas, and a powerful, murderous vampire who hates us is chucking kitchenware at us. Define 'lucky'," Andrew replied.
Sorel had overheard the last comment. "I don't have any guns," he yelled as he took aim with a melon baller. "That's lucky for you." Note to self: carry a machine gun on the motorcycle. Sorel tossed the melon-related kitchenware and it hit Patrick in the shoulder.
"That looks like it hurts." Andrew pointed at the instrument as Patrick sat with his mouth open. "Hey Pat, does it hurt? It looks like it hurts. Does it hurt? Does it? It's bleeding. Do you realize that?" He poked the melon baller. "It's just stuck there. It looks painful. Is it painful? Does it hurt? I mean, it must be in prrreeeeetttttyyyy deep to just be stuck there. Did it touch the bone? That'd be weird. Does it hurt? Does it? Does-"
"YES. IT. FUCKING. HURTS."
"'Kay."
"The next thing won't be so nice!" Sorel began tossing everything he could think of. A brick broke the back windshield and a piece of broken glass embedded itself in Pete's knee.
"Andrew! Take your rapier!" Joe grabbed for Andrew's rapier, still plugged in to the car. Once he had his hand all the way to the rapier, a pair of scissors was tossed right into Joe's left hand. "OUCH! SCISSORS?!" Joe grimaced as he pulled them out and continued driving, despite his bleeding hand.
Sorel, out of weapons, finally reached the speed of the car and began closing in on them. He pulled up to the side of the car and took out his trusty sword, which he began trying to slash Pete with, and used his telekinetic powers to control the chopper.
Pete could dodge most of the hits but finally got slashed on the forearm after trying to land his own hit on Sorel. "Hey guys, a little help?!" He called out to the rest of the guys in the car.
Patrick took out his crossbow (with him the entire time) and shot a stake at Sorel's ankle, getting a direct hit.
"Little bastard!" Sorel reached down to pull the stake out.
"Uh-oh, we're going under a tunnel!" Joe said. "Duck, Pete!"
Pete high-kicked Sorel in the chin just as they were going under the tunnel. While Sorel's motorcycle kept going for fifty feet or so, Sorel caught his face on the sign above the entrance of the tunnel that said "No trucks over eighteen feet" as Pete ducked down.
"Well, that was quite a short tunnel…" Joe said as they exited back out into the sunlight.
"Woo hoo! We got away from Sorel!" Andrew cheered.
"I'm bleeding…" Patrick commented quietly.
"Uhhhhh, communication roadblock!" Pete pointed just ahead of them. Brandon and Gerard were planted firmly in the center of the road.
"We'll stop you!" Brandon shouted.
"I can't believe he's saying 'we'…" Gerard said to himself.
Joe beeped the horn. "Get out of the way, possums!"
Gerard and Brandon didn't obey, and held their hands out to stop the car, Brandon with a cocky smile and Gerard with his eyes closed. They did succeed in stopping the car, but both were hurled back thirty feet into a humongous fruit stand. The momentum also sent Pete skidding across the road in front of them for about ten feet.
The vigilantes sat and stared. Finally, Joe broke the silence and thrust his good fist into the air. "We win!"
"Except for Pete," Patrick held his shoulder as he watched the chafed Pete stand himself up and wobble a bit.
Joe beeped the horn. "C'mon, Pete! Get back in the car! We're all waiting on you! Time to get you that hangover cure!"
"I think it's gone…" Pete murmured as he got into the back seat.
"And we're off!" Just as Joe tried to start the car, it spurted a geyser of oil and refused to go.
"Oh, that's great…" Patrick said weakly.
"NOOOO! THE VIGILANTE-MOBILE!" Joe and Andrew shouted in dismay.
"Well, we had no gas left anyway," Patrick mentioned.
"Come on, we might as well get started…" Pete got out of the car and went to the bumper, putting his hands on the back of the injured car.
Andrew and Joe, both very upset, followed, and then Patrick.
"One… two… three…" Patrick led the countdown. "PUSH!"
"Hey Patrick, you spurted! I never saw that before!" Andrew commented. "Maybe you should have just left the melon baller in."
"Annnndreeeeeewwww?"
"Yyyeeeeessss?"
"SHUT UP."
"'Kay."
Brandon pulled his head out of a watermelon, his face and hair covered in the reddish pulp.
"That's the last time I listen to you…" Gerard said, half-conscious.
Patrick grimaced as his back hit the locker for what felt like (and probably was) the tenth time that week. He looked up to see the oversized teen in front of them that was holding Pete by the scruff of his T-shirt.
"HEY!" Joe yelled at a young teacher standing outside his classroom door. "Are you going to do ANYTHING besides stand there and watch this guy beat us up?"
The teacher shrugged. "I'm…going to get some stuff." He reached into the pocket of his jeans (which were mismatched with a tan suit jacket, white button-down shirt, and tie) and took out a small piece of paper and a little paper bag, ignoring the thirteen year-old in front of him.
"You're the worst teacher ever!" The boy shouted.
"Ah-ah-ah! Some have said I'm the best!" He rolled up the little piece of paper.
Joe stared at him in disbelief through his black eye. "Are you… rolling a joint?!"
"SSHH!" The teacher snapped, taking out a lighter that appeared to give the middle finger when used.
"I'm going to tell the principal that you're doing that," Joe crossed his arms, temporarily ignoring the fact that his other three friends were still taking turns getting beaten up.
"WHAT? NO! Don't do that!" The teacher looked around. "Okay okay! Look, look, look! I'll help you out! Don't squeal!"
Joe stared at him.
"There are some bottle rockets in the big drawer in my desk, along with another lighter. Go get 'em, then shoot 'em at tall, dark, and ugly. I'm not getting involved DIRECTLY, so don't ask."
"Patrick, you aim well," Joe said, shaking Patrick out of the frozen state he had been in after looking at the blood coming from his nose, "Go get the rockets!"
"Huh? Oh, right!" Patrick ran into the classroom, and emerged seconds later as he lit a bottle rocket. "Hey dickwad!"
The bully turned. "What? You want more?"
"SUCK ON THIS!" The bottle rocket fired right into the bully's mouth. The bully yelped and staggered down the hall, gagging, screaming incoherently, and spitting out smoke and teeth.
"That was cool! Now can you give us compensation for our lunch money?" Andrew asked.
"Hell no."
"Aww…"
"What are you doing getting shoved around anyway?" The teacher asked. "I see you in gym class. You guys are good." He pointed to Patrick. "Except for you."
"HEY! I'm good at dodgeball!" He protested, putting his oversized blue baseball cap straight.
"I don't know. Pete, why don't we fight back?" Joe asked Pete.
"'Cause Dirty said not to, after you broke that last kid's nose. He said revenge is a dish best served cold, anyway." Pete answered, shrugging. "I don't know what that means."
"Was he drunk?" Patrick asked.
"Yup,"
Three girls, one of them in a cheerleader outfit and the other two in matching yellow tennis dresses, walked by. When they saw Joe, Pete, Patrick, and Andrew, they coughed "Freaks!" into their hands and giggled loudly.
"Yeah, YOU WISH YOU COULD HAVE US!" Pete called after them.
"Well, don't be upset," The teacher said. "You guys remind me of myself when I was your age. And look at me now!"
The boys stared at his scruffy hairdo, mismatched clothing, and joint.
"Riiiiiiight…" Andrew murmured.
"Well, you're not a sight yourself!" The man responded and walked back into his classroom.
"I'm getting a soda!" Joe started to walk away.
"We have no money," Patrick said to him, moping slightly.
"You can break into the machines again!"
"Not AGAIN?!"
Has anyone seen The Carpal Tunnel of Love music video? It's awesome! I love the Happy Tree Friends! FOB are so cute as little animals...
Anyways, expect a new chapter soon. I prewrote, like, three chapters until I realized "Hey! I haven't sent any of this in!".