Top Gear X

Author's note: I suppose this chapter is in the spirit of Top Gear in that some episodes do have a great many penis jokes. And more then a bit over the top. In my defense I am trying to be funny in that juvenile way that sometimes is the real Top Gear.

Also a reviewer wanted to know what will happen to the band, I guess this chapter answers that question. And I did pick the Scorpions for a reason (as shown at the end of this chapter).

For those who have not actually seen a Top Gear Episode, I recommend the Top Gear Africa special, or the Bolivia Special, or the North Pole Special as a first peek (and yes they drove a car to the north pole). The Bolivian one is my favorite. Amazon Prime, Netflix or youtube should be a good source. Then you to can revel in the creation that is Top Gear (and a guilty pleasure for some).

As always, comments and reviews are the food of inspiration. AND… a reviewer posted major feedback so… this chapter is dedicated to that user Thisisfunwhattooksolong (hopefully you'll not be too appalled at what I did in this chapter).

Part 21a: Post apocalyptic blues

We see the desert landscape littered with scattered burning vehicles, as we pan across one of the vehicles flares up as a gas can ruptures in a dramatic burst of fire resulting in some metal fragments being flung into the air.

Then we switch to an aerial shot from above as we glide over the battle field, we see that the Top Gear vehicles are now parked by the flat bed truck that the Scorpion's had been chained to. The band is now standing next to the truck with the presenters.

The ogresses are standing off to the side with Hogan standing guard while he ominously fondles his mightily mace… um… not his… um… you know, his weapon, not his… um… Moving right along.

The camera switches back to panning around the landscape as we hear the voice of Jeremy Clarkson narrating a voice over. "The dry dusty landscape burned with the vehicles of the fallen. Yes, we were triumphant but… what now? Trapped in this burning wasteland we…"

Klaus Meine (vocalist for the band) interrupts Clarkson's voice over and the camera returns to our heroes. "What now is that you send us home! We want out of this hell hole!"

The three Top Gear announcers look at each other with questioning glances. Clarkson glances at Yana, who again in that spandex body suit instead of the silver armor, but she looks uninterested in the plight of the band so Clarkson made no mention as to her ability to teleport (an ability as yet unbeknownst to the other two presenters.)

May replies with an apologetic shrug. "We don't know how."

"What do you mean you don't know how? How the hell did you get here then?" Asks a belligerent Rudolf Schenker (rhythm guitar player). Keep in mind that the band members are sunburned, covered in dried blood from those Yana slew (for some reason Yana didn't have any blood on her), and they had been chained up for several days while forced to play upon demand.

"We're on an interdimensional road trip but we don't control the portals mate, and dial down the attitude." Counters Hammond as he then inquires. "How in the blazes did you lot end up here?"

Matthias Jabs (lead guitar) answers. "A booking gig that went massively wrong, our agent is so fired when we get back."

Francis Buchholz (bass guitar) moans at the injustice of it all. "Damn it. I thought this nightmare was over and it was going to be time for schnitzel, brots, brews, and broad." Not necessarily in that order one must add.

"Instead we're still stuck here." Grumbled Herman Rarebell (drums). He the hopefully asked. "Do you at least have any beer?"

Clarkson's regretful no triggers another round of loud complaining from the band. Call it a prolonged bout of vocal distress about everything in general. The presenters just look at each other then slowly back away from the complaining rock and roll Prima Donnas while Yana just observers the rocker meltdown with what is obvious amusement.

Clarkson whispers to May and Hammond as they retreated. "Ungrateful lot."

May is somewhat sympathetic to their plight. "Give them a few minutes to calm down. Likely more then a bit of PTS. After all, most celebrities are not accustomed to such hardships. Remember how most panic upon seeing our green room back at the studio. Say… we are off to a county fair and such events have such cuisine, apart from the schnitzel that is, perhaps the chaps could find a gig there."

Hammond whispers. "And they are German, and you know who Germans get."

Clarkson replies back. "One bad sausage and it's time to invade France again. Um… What's wrong with the green room? It has M&Ms and we clean it at least once a year, or so I think."

Hammond chuckles and reminds his follows about the time one guest found a box of the STIGs underwear behind the couch, still unopened as the STIG went commando.

Our now chuckling trio leave the band and wander over to Hammond's parked, but still running, pink monstrosity of a tank (the tank crew was on guard duty as it were, likewise May's assault vehicle crew).

May and Hammond climb onto the back of the tank (Clarkson just stood below and shouted questions). They open the engine access panels after first unbolting and folding away spoiler. We now behold the diesel engine, modified with a nitro injection system that Hammond helpfully points out, looking quite pristine, undamaged, and rumbling like a happy cat (a very big cat one would say).

"How the blazes is this thing even still running?" Mused May. "It should have melted after what you just got done doing to it."

Hammond points out that the engine was… "Purring like a kitten." Although privately he was also amazed.

May remained focused. "Yes Hammond, I can see and hear that but… it shouldn't be. The engine seals should have blown, the block should have cracked, the cooling system should have vaporized, the transmission should have disintegrated, and exhaust system should have melted. But everything looks jolly good, which makes no sense. How fast did you end up going?"

A shrug from Richard. "Don't really know, the speedometer rather maxed out."

May pulls out an oil dipstick from the diesel engine. "And the oil not only does not need topping off, it looks brand new?"

May's statement likewise puzzles Hammond. "That is… a bit odd. I'll have the boys go over her workings in a bit."

They close up the tank's engine compartment, jump down (well Richard jumps down, May climbs down) and the trio wander over to May's silver assault vehicle and inspect the dent that the other tank's round had left. All three look puzzled.

"You should be dead James." States Clarkson with no humor at all.

"That's a solid hit May." Adds Hammond. "Armor piercing round. Should have opened your vehicle up like a can opener. That silver armor saved you and yours."

May likewise agrees. "Think the chaps and I owe Yana a thank you. Any suggestions Jeremy?"

Jeremy had a ready answer. "Chocolate, the good stuff, dark and expense. And no milk chocolate, she's quite yuck on milk chocolate and coffee."

The trio are still puzzling over the dent when Fendra and Volstagg coming towards them (they had been interrogating the prisoners with Hogan). Fendra proclaims while pointing off in the left direction. "The prisoners say that there are some supply vehicles about ten miles that way."

A quick confab concludes that May will drive off with his troops, along with Fendra and Hogan, to examine and retrieve the vehicles while Richard and his tank will stand guard over the ogresses. The band members complaining can still be heard, but now they have moved on to bitching about the lack of cell phone service and French driving habits.

Richard muses to Clarkson while May drives off. "Still thinking of getting a band for the studio?"

Clarkson was most definitive in his reply. "Not if they're going to complain like that lot. If I want more complaining I'd just listen to the conference calls from the BBC execs complaining about us instead of hitting mute."

Richard nods his head in agreement. "Getting rather annoying."

May drives off with the assault vehicle, and short time later the assault vehicle returns escorting a small convoy of trucks; May's soldiers can be seen driving the trucks. As the trucks park May cries out. "Hammond! You have to see this!"

May hurriedly exits the assault vehicle and jogs over to the back of one lorry and flips back the tarp while Clarkson and Richard wander over. A grinning May now assumes a Ta-Da kind of pose as he points to the contents of the Lorry. Both Richard's and Clarkson's eyes grow big as the contents are reveled.

The truck bay is filled with RATOs (Also known as JATOs). What is a RATO/JATO you ask? Well… RATO means Rocket Assisted Take Off and JATO means Jet Assisted Take Off. The truck bay was completely filled with solid propellant rockets (absent their travel cases so… rather a bomb on wheels).

Now, you might ask, just how powerful are RATOs (or JATOs as we will call them from now on)? Well, the U.S. Air force straps eight to the body of a C-130 cargo plan to assist in take offs from a small field. And of course Myth Busters had strapped one to the roof of a car to test an urban legend and the car did reach three hundred miles per hour before it disintegrated (take a look on youtube if you want). Quite impressive one would say. So, how many are there?

"Bloody hell." Whispers Richard. "It's been ages since I've played with JATOs. There must be a hundred of the buggers."

"Is there any beer!" Yells one of the band members off screen.

May yells back. "Only something called Coors. At least it's cold but I'm no sure I'd call it a proper beer. And a load of MREs (Meals Ready to Eat)."

Meanwhile Hogan, Fendra, and Volstagg quietly converse as to what Hogan and Fendra had encountered.

Volstagg relays that. "The ogresses have done nothing since your departure other then obey any commands given. The wen… Yana spoke to them and they became quite agreeable after that conversation."

Fendra whispers. "There was a pack of wolf like demon animals trailing us as we came back, but they broke off about a mile back and fled."

"Likely our numbers spooked them off, or the ogresses." Concluded Volstagg. "No creatures have intruded here."

Hogan disagreed. "It was a sizeable pack, and we wasted no ammo upon them as James the May went on upon length as to how they had significantly depleted their stocks. No… I think they sensed something…"

All three look at Yana who is sitting on the band trailer truck bed just listening to the ongoing band complaints. It is Fendra who speaks what all three are thinking.

"Something worthy of avoiding."

Part 21b: Recollections of Kardashian endeavors

An hour later we see a roaring fire with folks sitting in around of said fire (not sure why there was a fire as things are hot after all, but it did look great in the shots). Some scattered wooden debris had been salvaged and assembled into a roaring bonfire. Jeremy had assisted in starting the fire with a bit of petrol… ok a great deal of petrol which had resulted in James's use of a CO2 fire extinguisher upon Clarkson's flaming pants.

"Fire! I'm on fire! Do something James! Fire!"

James had been quite cross as he extinguished Clarkson's pants. "You utter imbecile!"

But all was now quiescent as the merry band of travelers consumed MREs and drank deep of the Coors.

"This is not beer." Complained Matthias Jabs (lead guitar). "This is cold water with color and stale hops."

"Then why do you keep drinking it?" Inquires May as he watched Matthias open another can of Coors (a rather large pile of empty cans were already behind the band members).

Matthias just shrugged as he drank.

"I think our liberated band members are de-stressing as it were." Observed Clarkson taking a drink of his own beer, then making a face at what he has tasted.

Volstagg was not impressed with the MREs. "These things… MREs… I shall recommend to Odin that he acquire a vast lot so as to sicken any besieging enemy as we hurl them from our walls."

Fendra's made an inquiry as to the number of MREs Volstagg had consumed, no reply was made to the inquiry other then a loud beery burp of dismissal (Volstagg had quite liked MRE Menu 8, Brisket with Au Gratin Potatoes). Grim Hogan was silent as he drank another of these things called Coors (he liked them and was later to lay in a large supply).

"So chaps." Asked Hammond of the Warriors Three. "You all appear to know of the Cheeks? Care to pass on any details?"

The Warrior's Three exchanged long glances, then mightily Volstagg rose to his feet and recited like the skilled orator he was. He gave forth a brief soliloquy upon the history of the gates that lay at the heart of the crevasse of the cheeks of hell. He spoke with his back to the fire which gave him a somewhat noble silhouette , apart from the vast gut that is.

"Long have the barricades frustrated all who would gain entry. Many have tried, all have failed. None know of their making, or what lies behind the tightly sealed gates as any attempt to fly above or burrow beneath is for naught as one simply arrives once again before them. It was Odin, the All Father, who first chanced upon the gates during one of his ventures in this foul and blighted land."

"Perhaps it was meant to be a jest from the now departed Surtur, once lord of this realm. A deliberate prank to tempt the All Father's wandering eye, for does not the mighty booty mountains capture the male gaze most strongly? Such a construct simply cannot be an accident of geological origins."

"So caught was the All Father, and he stood before the sealed gate of dark temptation and demanded entry therein. Silence was but the reply. Then did Odin labor and strive to gain entry. Long did Odin trust his spear, the mighty shaft called Gungnir, upon the sealed gates, only to be denied at every thrust and turn. Seven days and seven nights did Odin strive, but for naught as he was denied the satisfaction. Rebuffed, spurned was he."

"In frustrated ire did the All Father then blow long and hard upon his might horn and summoned the host of Asgard to aid in his endeavors. Arrive they did, via the rainbow bridge, and thus laid siege to the tightly sealed gates at the heart of the Kardashian monolith. Long did the host of Asgard strive. Enormous were the battering rams that broke upon the gates, defeated by the strength that held the cheeks unsullied. Vast siege engines attempted entry, but in the end they lay exhausted and wilted upon the ground. Defeated by the strength that holds the gates tight against any intrusion."

"Thor, the God of Thunder, dist hammer for a day and a night upon those distant portals. Hammer in vain he did with his mighty hammer, Mjoinir is its name, with sweat dripping from his mighty form as again and again and again he pounded with the might of thunder itself, but the gates held fast and denied entry."

"It is said that Loki attempted to gain entry with trickery, beguile, false promises and other such enticements, only to be likewise repulsed. Even hero's from other realms have confronted the cheeks and failed. The one called the Hulk pitted his inhuman strength against the resolve of the gates and failed to smash his way in. Such has been all who tried to gain entry for it appears that none shall pass."

Volstagg sagely concluded with a bit a drama as he pointed at the distant mountains. "Those cheeks open for nobody!"

Stunned silence for a few moments. Then Hammond whispers to May. "That's… the gayest thing I've ever heard." Then a bit more loudly. "Do you chaps always talk that way?"

All the Asgardian exchanged puzzled expressions, the Volstagg replied. "What way?"

Yana stage whispered to Clarkson. "Like I told you, Ass-gardians."

"Well…" Clarkson stated while edging away. "That was most… illuminating. On a variety of levels."

"Quite." Agreed May. Then in a whisper to Richard and Clarkson. "I for one am not going to share a tent with any of them. Ever."

Clarkson nodded in agreement. "Most wise May… most wise."

Part 21c: Let's get cracking

Later, after the meal has settled, our automotive trio gathered to decide as to what to do. In the background the band members are passed out having gored and drunk themselves into a stupor.

"Right…" Says Clarkson. He unfolds a sheet of paper upon a table and draws a crude dump truck approximation with a pencil. "I say we take the surviving truck and attach a ram to it. Richard, check to see if we can use the axels from the other ruined dump truck…" He draws a long battering ram attached to the front of the truck.

May takes the pencil from Clarkson and draws a boxy thing on the end of the dump truck. "All that weight in the nose will require a counterweight."

Now Hammond takes the pencil and scribbles as well. "We can attach the JATOs in the truck bed by welding a massive plate of armor, salvage some of nitro fuel systems from the scraped vehicles, put any salvaged explosives and fuel in the back of the truck bed, and put some really tall exhausts on it like they have on those America eighteen wheelers!"

Clarkson takes back the pencil. "And… I think we require some additional penetration assistance. Hammond, we could mount some of your hyper velocity missiles at the tip and fire them just before impact."

May opines enthusiastically. "A sort of high explosive lubricant as it were. I'm quite keen on the idea."

Clarkson now scribbles a protecting hood on the ram to protect the missiles. "Weaponized Asstroglide I suppose. We can use some of the junk armor plate from the other dump truck to protect the missiles before firing. We'll need an opening to fire the missiles just before impact, right at the tip I suppose."

They all appear quite pleased with the rough design as Clarkson declares. "Brilliant… Let's get cracking… After all, how hard can it be?"

Everybody assembles as the sound track to a Bridge over the river Kwai begins to play and we hear a marching song of drums and whistling as various vignettes of the chaps assembling their construct are shown.

Female ogres rolling some axels along the ground and accidentally rolling over Volstagg who looks very irritated at being squished (godlings are quite resilient).

Sparks flying as acetylene cutting torches cut slices of armor from the ruined dump truck.

The female ogres holding the axels into place while May and Hammond arc weld; and I might add showing a disturbing quantity of ogre cleavage.

Clarkson pounding on the dashboard of the working dump truck with a hammer.

Yana painting sponsorship decals on the two doors of the dump truck, Penisten Oils on the left hand side door, and Larse's Biscuits on the right hand side door.

Clarkson now arguing with May over having pounded on the dashboard with a hammer.

The band members finding another stash of beer and passing out again.

Hammond fiddling with the dump truck's diesel engine as he attaches nitro injectors.

May and Clarkson fighting over the before mentioned hammer.

Solders removing hyper velocity rockets from the tank's launcher box.

Welding two massive custom spoilers to the top of the dump truck bed.

Clarkson shouting at May to give the hammer back as May storms off with said hammer.

May welding heavy bits of scrap to the back the dump truck.

Yana painting mystic runes on the battering ram shaft, runes that fade away as she paints them. Meanwhile, the warrior's three are crouched behind some debris observing her. They duck down and converse, then observe again only to find her gone, then they hear Yana clear her throat behind them as they start like guilty children.

Clarkson slyly retrieving the emergency backup hammer from the Aston's glove box.

May cleaning a now repaired dashboard with little brushes.

The stacking and attacking of the JATOs to the back of the truck. May grabs the backup hammer and chases Clarkson about.

The piling of a massive amount of salvage ammo in the back of the truck bed.

The attaching of the armored hood to the battering ram and the mounting of the missiles behind the hood.

Part 21d: Rest from thy labors

The creation of the vehicle was done, and everybody was taking a well deserved break. Our automotive trio were relaxing around a small fire, Richard and May are each eating a MRE and drinking Coors while Clarkson is dining upon an enormous sandwich and drinking several cans of Red Bull (He claims that sandwich and the Red Bull were in the boot of the Aston but… the boys were getting suspicious as in (Just how big is that boot and just where did Yana get that glass of hot tea?).

"So chaps." Asks Clarkson. "If you had to do it over again, would you change your vehicle choice?"

"Love the Challenger." States Richard after a grimace from the Coors. "But… not the most comfortable of rides. I might… just might… have selected a different vehicle if I'd thought of a powered companion or two."

"Such?" Asked May.

"Oh… say a Ripsaw EV2." Answers Richard.

Clarkson pauses on his feasting. "The luxury tank? Don't those run… oh three hundred thousand before option?"

"Yep…" Grins Hammond. "A true sports tank. What would you have sprung for May?"

"The Bat Mobile, the one with six wheels and the tires that are six feet tall."

Clarkson is dismissive. "That's a movie prop, it's not real May."

May is rather annoyed at Clarkson's comment. "Coming from the man who brought a sports car. Any regrets as to that choice?"

"None whatsoever. Wonderful response to the throttle, tight in the curves, goes like hell when you give her the go, and just a pleasure to ride in all situations."

A smirk from May. "Are you describing the car, or her?"

Just a grin back from Jeremy.

Part 21e: Later…

The three Top Gear hosts are looking at their creation, which is parked several hundred feet behind them. They all look uneasy and uncertain as to what they have created.

We see the sideways view and can instantly understand their unease. Imagine a giant Caterpillar dump trunk, now armor plate it, attach a giant battering ram to the front of it, a battering ram that has a rather large armored hood on the end to protect the hypervelocity missiles taken from Hammond's tank. In addition the counterweight looks rather like a large… sack.

Hammond has his guilty I've done something wrong face on. "Um… it's rather… well…"

Clarkson gets right to the point. "Bloody hell, it looks like a giant lady pleasure device on wheels, the kind you might buy at that odd adult novelty store that James frequents. For haven's sake James, why did you make the counterweigh look like a scrotum!"

James was defensive as to his labors. "I didn't you Pillock. That is a properly distributed counterweight, it's just that this angle makes it look like a..."

Hammond finishes while rubbing his face in despair. "A giant pair of bollocks."

May refuses to admit defeat. "It's just the angle!"

Clarkson tries a bit of reason as he gestures with his arms and hands. "May… Just look at it! There's no mistaking what it resembles! I mean… that's big enough for the Jolly Green Giant's wife. And one supposes that the vibration from diesel will just add to the effect so… very jolly indeed."

"Which is why so many women motorcycle driver love a good rumbley Harley." Observes Hammond.

An observation that appears to confuse May. "Why?"

Hammond provides some enlightenment. "It's the vibration and the lady bits are rather… well… in contact."

James looks somewhat surprised. "Oh… That... makes sense."

Clarkson is about to resume the argument when Hammond interrupts. "Hang on Jeremy, I think May has a good point. If we just present the vehicle from the front, and have the proper angle, then the… lady pleasure… device… shape is not so obvious."

Clarkson is doubtful. "Really?"

May is in agreement. "Let's give it a go."

The trio walk out of shot and as they go we hear Clarkson mutter. "So going to get complains from Caterpillar about this…"

Scene shift…

Now the Top Gear presenters are standing in front of the converted dump truck. The angle only shows the top part of the battering ram so that it doesn't look so… phallic. The presenters have their arms crossed with pride as Jeremy states… "Behold the mighty… mighty…" The mood breaks as Clarkson asks. "What the blazes do we call it?"

Slightly confused looks from the other two. The three hem and haw for a bit trying to come up with a name, then Yana intrudes on the scene and comments as she walks by. "Mighty weapons of power tend to have either ominous names, or names that describe their purpose." She departs the scene as she walks in the direction of the dump truck.

The three look at each other, then Hammond comes up with a name, and in it turns out the name.

"Arse Breaker?"

Clarkson starts to disagree. "Hammond that's…" He thinks upon it for a second.Brilliant!"

May is less then enthused as he slightly sneers his disagreement. "It's juvenile."

The three start to bicker and in the distance we see Yana besides the truck. She's shouting at somebody who is in the driving cab that's perched at the top of the truck. What is now our right hand side door opens and revels that the sponsor, Peniston Oils, has been unfortunately painted in such a way that the open door is now showing just the word Penis to the viewers as the presenters continue to argue. The left side door opens as well and now we see the sponsor Larse's Biscuits has a side view mirror blocking most of the letters, resulting in just the letters arse being seen.

The presenters stop their bickering as they apparently hear the cameraman say something, they then glance back at the dump truck and see what the doors spell out.

"Well that's unfortunate." Grumbles Clarkson. "Once again, we're ambitious but rubbish."

While May has his squinty irritated face on as he proclaims. "Oh cock."

Hammond once again looks embarrassed. "Thank you James, that sums it up quite well. In the future you might want to pick a less descriptive expletive for occasions like this."

The stand around looking uncomfortable again, then Clarkson asks. "Umm… Who's going to drive it?"

A question that promptly has all three presenters suggesting somebody else other then themselves.

"I would think May, he is into that kind of thing after all." Suggests Clarkson.

"Stop suggesting I'm gay!" Rebuts James. "As the biggest prat in the creation I would think that Clarkson is the obvious choice to drive a giant yellow lady pleaser up the ass of hell."

"Don't look at me mate!" Is Hammonds contribution to the learned debate. "Anyone who drives that beastie is dead upon impact."

An observation that brings pause to Clarkson. He thinks for a moment and then… "Right, I have just the thing." As he hits the Aston's alarm button on the key fob.

Later, a company would produced an unauthorized vision of the vehicle, a personal sized version. The advertising would encourage woman to find their own top gear (resulting in lawsuits from the Caterpillar corporation and the BBC).

Part 21f: It's not the STIG, instead it's the STIG's purple demonic cousin!

Standing before the giant yellow mobile… um… arse assault vehicle (RPD or Rocket Propelled Dildo was one nick name) was an over 8 foot tall purple demon with a short mono horn protruding from his forehead. The creature has a rather long and thick tail. The creature is wearing some black gym shorts and a small black open chest vest. And he is wearing a white race helmet with a hole drilled in it for a thick cigar and for the horn on the forehead to protrude. Yeah, it's S'ym back from Chapter 14.

Clarkson point out that. "Behold, it's not the STIG, instead it is the STIG'g purple demonic cousin!"

From beneath the helmet we hear S'ym complain. "S'ym is not pleased. S'ym thinks this is bad idea."

Hammond tries a little coaching. "Don't be a big baby about this. You'll be fine. Just before the big yellow lady pleaser of death hits the arse of hell we'll turn off the car alarm and whisk you away."

May is equally helpful. "You'll be hero mate. Having done what all those godlings were unable to do. Just think of the bragging rights as it is you who takes the brown cherry."

"S'ym… does not know how to drive stick."

May points out that… "Not to worry my good sir, it's an automatic!"

Smoke coils out from beneath the helmet as S'ym takes a long puff and then slowly exhales in a prolonged sigh, then he climbs up to the ladder to the drivers cab and settles into the drivers seat (barely fitting within the cab).

Behind the dump truck of doom (another nickname), and off to either side, the three top gear vehicles are ready to move out, likewise the band vehicle with the band once again on the truck bed and ready to play. Off in the distance, the ogresses are departing having fulfilled their oaths (running for the hills would be a good description).

The truck starts with a flaming bellow as the exhaust shafts thunder forth smoke and flame into the sky.

Yana is dressed in her silver armor again, no sword yet, as Clarkson comes over and gets into the driver's seat. Volstagg is again seated upon the trunk holding the sniper rifle.

"Ready?" Asks Clarkson.

Volstagg is resigned. "If one must."

Yana has an eager tone in her voice. "Hell yeah."

Clarkson radios: "This should be more fun then the entire French air force crashing into a fireworks factory."

May radios: "Or a complete disaster."

Hammond radios: "How is Jeremy's description not a complete disaster?"

Clarkson radios:"We're not French."

Part 21g: Visions in the desert

The convoy of assy demolition was approaching the cheeks.

Clarkson radios: "Is that… why yes it is! That's a Morris Marinas in the distance!"

May is likewise observing the distant object his binoculars, then he radios: "By golly tis is! And it looks like it's in mint condition."

Richard radios: "Meaning it's in need of some repair."

What is a Morris Marinas you ask? The Morris Marina is an automobile that was manufactured by Austin-Morris division of British Leyland from 1971 until 1980. The Marina ranks among the worst cars ever built. It was a popular car in Britain (closed market) until reliable imports from Japan and the Continent spelled its demise. James May has formally stated, for the record, that at least one Marina should be preserved as a warning to future generations.

Top Gear has vilified the Morris Marina; a running gag throughout the series involved dropping a piano on a Marina every time the car is featured. This abuse generated angry reactions by Morris Marina lovers, dubbed "Morris Extremists" whose letters would be read out and mocked in the subsequent episodes. One of which actually read as such: (Clarkson and his cronies should be hung, drawn and quartered or is that to good for them? It's idiots like Clarkson that are slowly removing the British automotive heritage. He doesn't deserve to be called British. To vandalize such a car is as if one were to buy a great work of art and burn it."

May radios: "So much blather mail we receive in defense of such a horrendous car."

Richard radios: "So we burnt the first one we had on the show. If the Morris Marina Owners club had bothered to not sound off on that then we'd never would have keep poking at them."

Ahhh, the philosophy of Top Gear in action. In essence, if nitwits are annoyed then the solution is to annoy them some more. A simple but effective plot device.

Clarkson radios:"It's not our fault that pianos keep falling on them. Blame that helicopter removal company, the one called Careless Air. Really… we're the real victims here."

Richard radios: "Well, now we can redeem ourselves in the eyes of the Morris Marina… oh… dear. That's going to upset them."

May radios:"So much for that idea. They'll be coming after us with pitchforks for that."

Clarkson radios:"It's not our fault! We are innocent in this horrendous… horrendous… well public service to be honest. We shall not rest until all are dealt with thusly."

Yeah, you guessed it. The Caterpillar dump truck drove right over it. Crushing it flat.

May radios: "Interesting factoid. The door handles were also utilized in the Austin Allegro, Range Rover, Triumph TR7, and the first series of the Land Rover Discovery. They were also used by some models of the Reliant Scimitar, and by more then a few Lotus cars. The indicator switchgear, also used on the Triumph Stag, eventually became part of the Lamborghini Diablo."

Richard radios: "That's just wrong… to think a part of the Morris is in a Lambo! That's like… like…"

Clarkson radios: "Finding out that the rear end of the jogger you are admiring is not of gender you thought."

Our little convoy drives on, entering the deep dark crevasse of the cheeks, but Yana glances behind at the now distant crushed and forlorn Morris.

A brief scene switch. We see a lizard emerging out from the sand and looks upon the wreckage, it glances up at a unseen flash of light, and then franticly burrows back into the sand as a piano crashes upon the Morris wreckage.

Yana turns back, a wicked grin on her face. Very wicked.

Part 21h: Just another quiet night at the ass end of hell

Two fire demons are slouched atop the gates of hell. They've been here a long time, all the guards have. Condemned to defend until the prophesy is fulfilled. Why a prophesy you ask? Well, such things always have some mysterious prophesy that nobody understands until it's too late.

There comes distant rumbling sound up the canyon. One fire demon comments.

"Sounds like another assault. Third this month."

"Hope it's not the ass-gardians again, they always make a mess." Grouses the other fire demon.

"Yeah, but its fun to watch." Replies the other.

Then some music begins to play and the demons stand up straight, as if the music is somehow important.

The Scorpions start to play their song Dynamite. Play it most loudly.

Kick your ass to heaven

With rock'n roll tonight

I'll make this night a special one

Make you feel alright

Shoot my heat into your body

Give ya all my size

I'm gonna beat the beat tonight

It's time to break the ice

Dynamite!

Dynamite!

Dynamite!

Dynamite!

Then… a kaleidoscope of imagines.

The yellow dildo of death (another nickname from one of the solders) come round a bend. Flames are shooting from the exhausts of the Jolly Green Rocker (yet another nick name).

Cut to the interior, S'ym has just shoved in a new unlit cigar into the hole in the helmet. He flicks his two fingers and the cigar lights. He then grips the reinforce steering wheel (plastic has been replace by a steel wheel) with both hands and lines up the ram upon the distant gates.

Cut to the speedometer, currently reading seventy miles per hour (MPH).

Cut to S'ym flicking a switch on the dashboard (the one labeled JATOs!).

Cut to flames and smoke shooting a hundred feet behind the dump truck as the first third of the JATOs fire (in slow motion), causing the dump truck to accelerates like… well like it was a car that had a rocket tied to its ass.

The music continues, even louder, as the rest of the convoy comes into view (they are keeping well back).

…

…

Hit the top together

Get ya with my spell

I'm gonna make my shot tonight

Take you down to hell

Eat my meat until you're breathless

Twirl your hips around

I'm gonna break you in tonight

I'll get you off the ground

…

…

The first demon utters a long "Oh umkhwenkwe!" While then other demon shrieks "FIRE!" and then mutters. "This… just might do it."

Trebuchets behind the wall lob flaming spheres of fire (in slow motion) onto the landscape before the gate.

Cut to the speedometer, now reading 100 MPH.

S'yms hands grip the while ever tighter and starts to bend the metal.

Cut to the burning cigar, the ash growing rapidly as if it were a fuse burning down.

Cut to the speedometer, now reading 150 MPH.

A fireball scores a direct hit upon the armored cab and engulfs the now flaming vehicle, a cloth banner that was tied to the top of trucks rim burns away.

Cut to the speedometer, now reading 200 MPH.

Cut to the cigar, more then half is now ash.

May radios: "Chaps I think I did a math error on the number of JATOs we needed. I think we over did it by… a great deal."

Cut to the speedometer, now reading 250 MPH.

More music as the Conveyance of Assy Doom (yeah, another nickname) draws nigh upon the gates.

…

…

Get it now or never

Let's get it really tight

We'll make this night a special one

Make us feel alright

Put my heat into your body

Give ya all my size

We gonna beat the beat tonight

Come on let's break the ice!

…

…

The remaining two thirds of the JATOs now trigger and it looks like a horizontal space shuttle launch (if the space shuttle was a caterpillar truck shaped vibrator that is).

Cut to the speedometer, now reading 350 MPH.

Cut to the tires, we see that they are in flames and beginning to disintegrate.

Cut to the top of the truck as we see the rear spooler rip off, causing the dump truck to now do a slight wheelie.

Cut to the speedometer, now reading 450 MPH.

Close up on the cigar, the burning circle of red races down the cigar.

Cut to the speedometer, it has now caught fire and we are no longer able to see what it reads.

Cut to the demons on the wall, viewing the oncoming burning vehicle (in glorious slow motion). We see is the name of the vehicle as the flames part. A name stenciled large and bold on the dump truck's rim (stenciled by Yana) that had been hidden by the now burn cloth banner.

Arse Breaker!

Side angle shot (in slow motion), we see the tip of the very phallic battering ram less then fifty feet from the gates. There is a burning white light as the hyper velocity missiles fire, impacting the gates like a burning streak of white splashy light.

Then…

With a thundering crash, the Caterpillar slams into the gates of hell just as Jeremy turns off the car alarm and S'ym flickers away leaving just the helmet. There is gigantic fireball and a massive impact as the walls shudder and gates vanish in the flames and smoke.

A fireball that grows larger and larger.

Bits of truck rain down.

Torn tires go flying.

The JATOs that did not explode got rocketing off in all directions like a demented fireworks display.

The smoke slowly clears and we behold that… that… the gates of hell have fallen, ripped open and forced to succumb, to yield, to give way, to the take the massive plunging penetrating force of the… um… and what was left of the RAP (Rocket ASSisted Penetrator, yet another nickname) fireballed (ha ha) into the compound.

And incidentally blew up everything inside.

The gates, in their failing, covered a plaque nailed to the inside of the left gate

Unbreached shall these gates be.

Until the granting of the prophesy.

Mistrals of mirth and fornication must.

Herald the ending of the obstinacy.

A mighty beast it will be.

Loud, long, and thundering with bellows of fire.

Dressed in yellow with skirts of flame.

At the last, the Caterpillar's horn will thrust forth.

As the gates surrender their chastity.

To the bellowing might of gear's top form.