The Diego Diaries: Barbecue (dd6 252)
-0-At the Valles
"WHAT DO YOU *MEAN* NOW!?" -The 'boys'
"NOW!" -the other boys
"Okay," Ironhide said with a grin. "What do I do?"
"Did you read the slag I sent to you last night?" Ratchet asked with a gimlet optic.
"Oh." He paused. "I did."
"Honestly, Ironhide … get with the program," Alor said. He grinned. "Time to become one with your grill." He turned to the row of grills that were placed around the campsite and then others in two other groups. All in all, there were 22 mechs who obeyed their mother. "COOKING STARTS NOW, SLAGGERS!"
Bee and First Aid who were watching walked to their grill nearby. A box was opened, the package inside set on the grill, then the lid shut. Ratchet who was watching frowned slightly. "You have to turn the grill on, slaggers. What do you have in there?" Ratchet walked to their grill, bumped both of the protesters aside, then opened the lid. A package was inside and it looked beautiful. Ratchet had seen it before from The Catering Place. He frowned at both. "You brought fake ribs in."
"They aren't fake," Bee said with a grin. "They're real."
"RINGER! FAKERY! WHERE'S THE COPS!?" Ratchet said.
Huge laughter greeted that. Bee took the package, then pulled plates out of their box. Opening the package, Bee filled two plates, then handed one to First Aid. "Excuse us, Ratchet. We're going to eat now." The two walked to their chairs and tent nearby, then sat down and began to eat.
"Slaggers. Who else is going to risk The FIST OF DOOM!?" Ratchet asked.
The punters who were watching hustled altogether to get their grills and smoke on. Ratchet grinned, then walked to the first string ring of grills. Springer and Drift were setting the temperature as the others looked in their boxes.
Hard Drive who actually made everything himself albeit with Delphi giving directions, nonetheless began to put things together to grill. He lifted his foil wrapped dishes, placed them in the grill, then closed the lid "Well, that's that. Where's the beer?" he asked to great acclaim.
After a lot of fuddling around, the grills were going great guns. Hercy who understood cooking stood before his with the lid up as he watched his ribs and 'chicken' grill on a low heat. The others fell back on the idea of wrapping foil around things so it would maybe do all the work by itself. No one really had a clue but for a few of them.
Ratchet watched as Ironhide watched his grill heat up. It was getting hot to the point where it felt scary. "Are you going to leave it that hot?"
"How should I know, Old Mech. I AM IRONHIDE! I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO BARBECUE!" Ironhide said as the little kids ran past like a flock of seagulls.
"Turn down the heat, slagger," Ratchet said as he did. It was almost instantaneous, the drop and it didn't hurt to stand closer now that he did. "What are you putting on there?"
Ironhide reached down into the box. He pulled something out.
"That's deviled eggs," Ratchet said.
He bent down again.
"That's beans, slagger. What did the ribs and brisket get wrapped in last night?" Ratchet asked.
"HOW THE FRAG WOULD I KNOW?! YOU DID ALL THE SLAGGING WORK!" Ironhide said as he pulled a box of buns and butter out.
Everyone turned toward him and began to catcall. Ratchet frowned. "Slagger. You have a big mouth."
"AND I'M GOING TO FILL IT WITH BUNS AND BUTTER!" Ironhide said before Ratchet grabbed the buns.
Pointing to the right things, Ratchet watched as he finally pulled out the barbecue. Opening the lid, he pointed to the grill. Ironhide grinned as he tossed it on the heat. Frowning at the grill, glaring darkly at Ironhide, Ratchet organized the items, pulled the foil back a bit, then shut the lid. He turned toward Ironhide with gimlet optics. "Slagger. WATCH THAT! DON'T LET IT BURN!"
Ironhide watched Ratchet walk to the beer locker, take one and sit. He frowned. "Slave driver. Slagger." He turned back to the grill and peeked inside. Things were bubbling. "They're melting. Is that allowed?"
"That's the meat sizzling, slagger. If you'd cook once in a while, you could know a few things," Ratchet said.
Everyone turned to Ironhide with a cautionary look on their faces. He frowned back at them. "Don't look at me. That's a dead subject around my house."
"What is?" Ratchet asked through narrowed optics.
Ironhide stared at Ratchet, then smiled weakly. "Nothing."
Huge laughter, catcalls and slag greeted that. Ironhide frowned at them but stayed by his grill.
Next to him, Prime was doing the same thing. Sitting in a chair with a beer, Prowl was guiding him off line. Putting beautiful things into the grill, Prime grinned at Ironhide. "This is harder than war."
"I HEAR YA!" Ironhide said as he glanced over his shoulder at Ratchet. He looked at Prime. "What ya cooking?"
"I think its ribs and brisket." Prime shrugged. "I don't know. I just do what I'm told."
"You two are neutered sad sacks," Springer said nearby as he and Drift managed their grill. It was giving off steam.
"What about you, slagger? You're on fire," Ironhide said. He glanced around. "INFERNO! RED! SPRINGER'S ON FIRE!"
The two who were working out their own grill walked over to Springer. Inspecting it, they looked at Ironhide. "There's no fire. It's just the way the slag is working." They walked back to their own and began to tinker once more.
Ironhide frowned, then looked around. "Hercy, why didn't you close your grill?" he asked.
"I'm tending my stuff. It's what you do," Hercy said as he poked his food gently, making sure that the juices saturated everything.
Everyone watched him for a moment, then glanced at each other. Then almost to the last one, they all opened their lids, too.
"What a bunch of sad mechs," Ratchet said softly to Prowl. "Tell me, Prowler. Did Optimus know you would coach him through this?"
Prowl who paused his off line dissertation about lids up or down to Optimus glanced at Ratchet with a cool optic. "Are you talking to me?"
Ratchet snickered. "Fragger." Ratchet stood, walked to the barbecue box and pulled out a container and a brush. He opened it, then handed both to Ironhide. :Dip the brush into the slag, then brush the food with it. Do it every so often, Ironhide: Ratchet walked back to sit. :Watch the slaggers squirm:
Ironhide stared at the brush, then the sauce. Dunking the brush, he began to paint the food on the grill. Everyone who was now up and going glanced at him, then froze. They looked into their boxes, then at Ironhide who noted that and felt like pretty hot stuff. He smirked at the others, then painted each piece carefully as the others watched. Conversations were going great guns off line all around him.
Prowl steamed. His sauce went on after the grilling. He debated with himself whether to change plans.
"Look at Ironhide. What a cutie," Delphi said as he stood next to Hardie. He was working his grill, adding this and that to the food, then closed the lid. "I think he may have a good shot at this. Remember, it was Ratchet all the way, too."
"Was there any doubt?" Hardie said with a chuckle.
Nearby, in the domes for the humans that were environmentally safe for them to camp, the children were playing. They had toys, games and snacks inside. Someone's amma was sitting nearby watching them so they wouldn't fall into a hole and break something.
Nearby, Anders worked over his grill as Burris helped him. Bezel and Lon were standing with them, watching the show as they drank a beer. Laslo and a strangely compliant Lucien were in the camp next and grilling madly together. Laslo was laughing as Partition, Lancer, Morius, and Inweld kibitzed. Proteus and Madura along with Joon and Vinn shared a site as both of them grilled together. Everywhere Ratchet looked, he could see friends and family enjoying themselves as 22 of their number grilled madly. It was hilarious and wonderful. Dinner was going to be great. Even if there wouldn't be enough barbecue produced here for everyone, he was aware of groaning boxes of food in the camps. No one was going to go hungry tonight. "How's the barbecue, Ironhide?"
Ironhide glanced at him, then looked at the grill. "It looks slagging fine. My paint job is the best part. I never saw barbecue that looked better."
"You never saw mine, old friend," Prime said. He grinned, then glanced at Prowl and winked.
Prowl who was made of battle lust at the moment glanced at Ratchet with a smug expression. "What he said."
Huge laughter.
Ratchet glanced around for more victims. "HOW YOU DOING, RAPTOR!"
"SLAGGING GOOD! I might even eat this myself," he said with a big laugh.
"I wouldn't go that far, Only One," Turbine said as he sat on a chair nearby. He rose, carted his chair to Ratchet and Prowl, then sat. Clicking his beer with theirs, he sat back to watch.
All around the campground, tents were set up, fire pits lit and food boxes stacked. Beer was shared out among the bachelors who came with tents, high grade and junk food. They walked around peering into the grills, taking snacks up from the tables where they were set out and chatted. The sun was bright overhead as the clock ticked toward mid orn. Everyone who was coming had arrived, though there were supposed to be others, mostly bachelors, arriving later on.
"This is looking good, Prowl," Prime said as he started his third beer. He stood with a long handled fork and a grin on his face as the grill cooked beautifully.
Prowl got up and looked into the grill. "I think it looks incredibly winning, Optimus. How about putting the sauce on?"
Prime looked down at Prowl, then grinned. "What sauce?"
"The one Prowl ordered from The Catering Place, Optimus," Ratchet said. "Keep up."
Prowl glared at Ratchet. "Are you insinuating that my mech here would cheat?"
"YES!" -nearly everyone around them including a number of civilians no one knew who decided to join the party. Sitting in their chairs with the others, they raised their glasses. "ALL HAIL, OPTIMUS PRIME!" they said in true mini-con bravura.
"ALL HAIL, OPTIMUS PRIME!" -everyone
Prime grinned, then looked down at Prowl. "Did you hear that, Prowler? How nice is that?"
Prowl frowned at Prime, then patted him. "Very nice. Here," he said handing Prime the sauce and a nice brush. Taking Prime's beer away, he watched as Prime grinned at the sauce.
He looked at Prowl. "I paint it on?"
"Yes, Only One. Just like you decided to do last night," Prowl said as he glared at Ratchet. "When you decided to cook this yourself."
"Did I?" Prime asked as he swayed slightly. He dunked the brush, then turned toward Prowl. "Where do I put this?"
Prowl stepped back, then redirected him back to the grill. "On the food, Only One."
"Oh," Prime said as he began to paint the meat. "This is fun. Painting is fun."
"Yes, it is," Prowl said with a grin.
"TELL HIM, PROWLER! THIS IS THE MESSIAH OF OUR PEOPLE!" Ratchet said with a laugh. "How ya doing, Ironhide?"
Ironhide who was putting another coat on the meat turned to Ratchet. "I AM IRONHIDE! I KNOW HOW TO PAINT!"
Huge laughter.
"Did you bring sauce?" Springer asked softly to Drift who was looking through the box.
"No," Drift said. "I know as much about this as you do."
Delphi walked to the two with a container and a brush. "Allow me, infants," he said. He brushed the meat, then walked to others who agreed that this was the shit.
"What else did we bring?" Springer asked quietly.
"I asked The Catering Place to put it in. I have no idea," Drift whispered back.
"I HEARD YOU! SPRINGER AND DRIFT ARE CATERED!" Bee said as he swayed, half in the bag.
"Slagging mini-cons," Springer said.
"THAT'S MY MECH YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" First Aid said.
"How did this happen? How are we here burning flesh on fire and listening to drunk mini-cons?" Magnus asked no one in particular.
Maelstrom who was standing with the femmes, Jetta and a number of Wreckers laughed loudly. "I guess you were born lucky, Magnus," he said.
"Frag that," Magnus said with a slight smile. Arcee gave him a beer and he poured a touch of it on the grill. "There. My special sauce," he said to great laughter all around.
"I think Magnus is getting into the spirit of this," Ratchet said. "How much longer do you think this is going to take?"
"You're asking me?" Prowl asked
"Given that you had this catered, I was thinking you might have asked," Ratchet said.
"Puh-lease," Prowl said.
"I suppose you said that when you asked," Ratchet replied. He stood up, walked to Prowl's box, then peered down. Pulling up a scrap of paper, he read it, then turned to the whole area. "ACCORDING TO THE CATERING PLACE, YOU HAVE ONE MORE JOOR FOR BRISKET AND A BREEM FOR EVERYTHING ELSE!"
Prowl jumped up and grabbed the paper. He glared at Ratchet as he sat again. Ratchet sat to laughter, catcalls and applause. "Loon."
"Whiner."
"IRONHIDE! YOU JUST FORFEITED THAT INFANT! PRODUCE IT NOW!" Prowl said with a smug grin at Ratchet.
Ironhide glared at Ratchet as he handed Halo over. "I DIDN'T DO SLAG!"
Prowl cuddled her, making sure she was warm. He grinned. "Price of being the bond of a loon, loon."
"Good thing Vinn came. Looks like you could use a tune up," Ratchet said with a chuckle.
"A tune up," Prime said, then he laughed. "Very funny," he said with a smile.
It would go on like that for a little while longer.
-0-TBC 1-21-18 edited 1-23-18