HAIRBALLS
By Leif Johnson

CHAPTER 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Spaceballs, or the
characters from Ranma 1/2. Although, technically, these characters are
from neither (different names, ya see). Well, they're mostly not my
creation.

To recap: Place cap back on head.
Seriously: First, the good news. The hero you've been waiting for has arrived. The bad news is, he isn't real. He exists only in a fanfic, busy saving someone who ISN'T you. Too bad. Keep reading to see how good a job he does at saving the day, which also happens to not be YOUR day. So sorry. Enjoy the fic.

***

"Oh, they've found us," Lone Stallion deadpanned. Belch glanced up at the massive ship bearing down on them, and frowned. "Well, prepare for... Secret Omega E-Z Handy Portable Low-octane Compact No-batteries-included-some-assembly-required Hyper Jets!" Stallion cried, reading a receipt. Belch shot him a LOOK. Stallion frowned, then looked back at the receipt.
"Oh yeah, (tm)."

***

On the bridge of the FaceFault ship, Thunder Helmet jabbed a finger at the view port and shouted, "Prepare to annoy!"
"But sir!" Colonel Headwear replied. "That might not be enough!"
"Well," Helmet said, pondering. "Then prepare to piss-off! On the count of 17!"
Headwear turned looked at him skeptically, then glanced at a timer. "Sir, I don't think we have-"
"1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6..." Helmet counted, ignoring Colonel Headwear. Suddenly, a large cardboard cutout-which there seemed to be a lot of going around those days-of a middle finger popped up on top of the Winnebago. The small ship suddenly blasted off into HyperSuperMegaAmazingRectal Speed, which caused the cutout to tear off and stick against the windshield of the FaceFault Ow. At least, that's what Thunder Helmet had said while naming it.
"What in the hells has happened?" Thunder Helmet thundered through his helmet before lifting his visor. "Where'd they go?"
"I don't know, sir!" Headwear cried. "They must have..." he trailed off and read the receipt that was stuck to the cardboard finger. "Secret Omega E-Z Handy Portable Low-octane Compact No-batteries-included-some-assembly-required Hyper Jets!"
"And what do we got on this thing?" Helmet demanded.
"16,000 men, 300 droids, and one idiot in a black suit," Headwear replied.
"I MEANT FOR ENGINES, SIMPLETON!!!" Helmet thundered. With his visor down, of course.
"Oh. Well, we have the state-of-the-armpit-overpriced-" Headwear started, until Helmet pulled his ring out of his pocket. "-A good engine."
"Then pursue that foul cretin to-eth the ends of the galaxy, if need be! He must not escape-eth!" Helmet ordered.
Headwear grabbed a microphone and shouted, "Prepare ship for Smite Speed (tm)!"
"NO!" Helmet cried. "Smite Speed, while quite impressive, is-eth much too slow! We will have to use... THUNDEROUS SPEED!" He glanced around at the men after his stunning announcement.
"Um... sir?" one man tentatively asked. Helmet looked at him questioningly. "There's no such thing."
"What?!" Helmet shouted. "We do not have a speed named in the honor of the GREAT THUN-"
Headwear rolled his eyes and flipped Helmet's visor up.
"-der Helmet." Helmet blinked, then glanced around. "You RUINED it!" he groaned, smacking the colonel. "Aw well, we'll have to go for... A RIDICULOUS CROSS-OVER!" he announced, jabbing his finger high. "Like.... Insane and Silly!"
"A C-CROSS-OVER?!?" Headwear stuttered. "Between Insane?! And Silly?!"
"What's the matter, Colonel Headwear?" Helmet taunted. "Got a few gray hairs? Or maybe... something worse?" He chuckled and reached for the bandanna on Headwear's head as he said the last part.
Headwear slapped his hands away and squeaked into the microphone, "Prepare for a Cross-over between Insane and Silly speeds!" As lights flashed after the announcement, Headwear strapped himself into a chair and glanced up at the still-standing Thunder Helmet. "Shouldn't you strap yourself down?"
"NONSENSE!" Helmet cried, resting his hands on a metal bar. "Nothing can uproot the GREATEST FACEFAULT EVE-" *WHACK*
"Ooh!" Headwear said, cringing. "That's gonna leave a mark."
"Insane and Silly Cross-over, ENGAGED!" shouted one of the men. The ship lurched forward and Helmet flew backwards, barely managing to catch his toe on the bar. As he seemed to float in the air, hanging on by one toe, arms flailing wildly, he still managed to say something awe-inspiring.
"EEEEEK!"

***

Belch and Lone Stallion jerked backwards in surprise as a blur passed over their heads, leaving an odd mess of wavy, frizzy lines in its path.
[The hell was that?]
"The Facefault OW!" Stallion cried, bashing his face on the control panel.
[They've gotten a perm!] Belch stated, awed.
"Really?" Stallion asked, looking up and wiping the blood from his nose. "Sad."

***

"We passed them!" Headwear cried, cringing as the G-forces seemed to yank every cell of his body.
"Then stop!" an unfamiliar voiced squealed.
Headwear twisted to see Thunder Helmet doing a rather uncomfortable-looking and daring mix of gymnastics and contortionism, all in an attempt to keep himself from flying off of the bar. He briefly wondered why he didn't just grab the handles, but pushed it out of his mind. "It's too dangerous!" he answered. "We have to slow down first!"
Helmet responded by covering up a stain in his pants. "Stop, dammit! NOW!"
Headwear turned and reached slowly for a lever with an inscription on its base that read: DANGER. Do not use when engaged in truly insane and simply silly cross-overs.
The ship lurched to a stop, while larger amounts of lurching was occurring within the majority of the ship's occupant's stomachs. Helmet shrieked and flew forward, slamming his head into a control panel.
The men all unbuckled and a few ran to Helmet's aid because they were paid to. He stood up shakily and glanced around, sporting a bruise on his forehead that looked suspiciously like the word "bufoon."
"Are you okay, sir?" one of the men at Helmet's side asked.
Helmet glanced over at him and blinked. "Nani?"
"What's the matter with you?" Headwear cried, poking him in the forehead.
Helmet smacked his hand away. "Quit it, baka!"
Headwear stared at him. "Sir?"
"Hai?" Helmet replied.
"Oh, no. That blow to his head..." Headwear said in a horrified tone. "...Must have cursed him with... GRATUITOUS JAPANESE!"
"OH NO!" the rest of the men cried.
"Oro?"

***

"Ack!" cried Lone Stallion, looking at a gauge on the control panel. "We're running on empty!"
[Then how are we still going?] Belch inquired.
"Ummm..." Stallion replied, "I'm not sure. I guess the engine doesn't know it yet."
[Then what's the problem? Let it stay ignorant.] Belch supplied with a casual wave of his paw.
Suddenly, a message popped up on the view screen: -I do not know that we are running on empty.-
[See?] Belch said.
-....Not! Suckers!-
[Damn.]
Lone Stallion frantically worked to keep the Winnebago from spinning out of control and guide it onto the closest planet's surface. "Just hang tight, cause I'm gonna land this thing on that planet down there," he announced into the intercom.
In the back room, Princess Vexed pushed the intercom switch and asked, "Why? What's wrong with you? I don't want to go THERE!"
"Because," Lone Stallion replied, "We're out of fuel."
"How could you run out of fuel at a time like THIS?!" Vexed shouted. "How dumb can you get?!"
"Hey! Listen here, tomboy..." Stallion started.
"For YOUR information, I am the princess of the planet 'Do-idia!" Vexed retorted angrily. Herba boredly drew small cats on the black and white spotted walls.
"Great," Stallion muttered, "Just what we need. A 'Do-able princess."
"THAT'S 'DO-ISH! *ISH*, YOU PERVERT!" Vexed screamed. Herba donned sunglasses to protect herself from the glaring battle aura. The wallpaper melted.

***

As the Winnebago neared the barren planet's surface, the heroic, handsome, dashing, not-quite-charming, arrogant, kinda selfish, rude, loud mouthed, pig-tailed, stubborn-
"Do you MIND?!" Lone Stallion shouts. "We're in the middle of a suspenseful scene, and you're wasting time!"
He doesn't show very much respect, either.
"Doesn't this sorta count as an SI?" he asks, impatience clear on his face.
He is wrong, of course, but, more important things are happening.
"Damn straight," he mutters. What foul language.
Anyway, the... pilot... of the ship worked frantically to keep his fine vessel from crashing into the planet's surface, which would thus shorten the story, not to mention his lifespan. He turned to Belch, who had fear deeply etched into his face. The marks would eventually come out, though, so there was no reason to worry. "Say something morally supportive!" Lone Stallion shouted.
Belch flipped a switch, placed his hands together and closed his eyes as music drifted through the cockpit.
-Kumbayaaaa, my lord, Kumbayaaaaa...-
"Oh, for the love of God!" Stallion cried, slapping the switch off. "What are ya trying to do, kill me?"
[I find it spiritually uplifting,] Belch replied indignantly.
"Go stuff yourself," Stallion muttered. He suddenly perked up and began wrestling furiously with the controls. "We're about to land!" he cried. "Brace for impact!"

***

"Is Princess sure this what Captain meant?" Herba asked tentatively.
"I think so, but it does seem odd..." Vexed replied, frowning. They both turned towards each other and offered feeble grins, revealing two rows of metal across their teeth.

***

"Are the impact sensors on?" Lone Stallion inquired, observing a rather scary-looking sand dune ahead.
[Roger!]
"Who?" Stallion asked, then quickly focused on what he was doing. The Winnebago shook as it bumped against a sand dune.
-Whoa, there, pardner! You just went'n got a lil' roughed up!-
"I thought I told you to change the impact sensor warning signal!" Stallion shouted at Belch, who shrugged helplessly. The Winnebago bumped across another dune.
-Whoa, there, pardner! You just went'n got a lil' roughed up!-
And another.
-Whoa, there, pardner! You just went'n got a lil' roughed up!-
-Whoa, there, par-
-Whoa, the-
-Whoa, there, pardner! You j-
-Whoa-
"JESUS CHRIST, TURN IT OFF!!!" Stallion shrieked, slamming his fist on the panel. The ship abruptly tipped forward, plowed into a dune, and stopped.

***

"What you doing?" Herba asked Vexed, who stood up and straightened out her gown angrily.
"*I* am going to go teach that man a lesson!" Vexed growled, stepping towards the door.

***

"Call me a pervert? I'm gonna go back there and explain something to her!" Lone Stallion said, unbuckling.
[But you haven't seen her yet!] Belch wrote, his eyes wide.
"Oh, I don't need to. I've seen princesses before. They're all chubby, long-toothed..."

***

"Wait!" Herba cried. "He our only ticket out! Besides, he have sexy voice. Might be cute."
"Oh, please!" Vexed groaned, rolling her eyes. "I've seen these space jockeys before. They're all fat, ugly..."

***

"...Long-nosed, big-chinned..."

***

"...Balding, unbathed..."

***

"...Grotesque ANIMALS!"
[Watch it there, boy.]
"Sorry."

***

"...Disgusting PIGS! It's like they all came off an assembly line, like a bunch of ROBOTS!"
"Princess..."
"Sorry."

***

Both young, care-free individuals burst into the cabin separating the cockpit from the back room. They both faltered slightly, but regained their mental footing and launched their verbal assaults.
"Now look here, Princess," Stallion started. "You will ONLY refer to me as 'Pervert.' I will be nothing BUT 'Pervert.'"
"You WHAT?!" Vexed shouted, whipping out a mallet. "PERVERT!"
Belch poked his head through the door and looked down at the twitching boy. [He needed that.]
Herba poked her head through the door and looked at the seething princess. "She need that."
[If you're done, I suggest we leave now. There are a bunch of not-very-bright individuals with very large guns who will soon discover us, and leave us in a very unsavory position,] Belch announced, holding up seven signs.
Vexed tilted her head to the side and asked, "Where do you keep all those?"
Belch shrugged, and quickly scrambled to catch the signs he dropped.
"Alright," Stallion groaned, "Let's get going."
"Wait!" cried the princess. "My things."
"Now look here, take ONLY what I need to survive," Stallion said, glaring at her.
Vexed held her mallet high.
"Takewhateveryouwant! Takewhateveryouwant!"
Belch nodded knowingly and held up a sign. [Yup, he's whipped.]

***

The foursome soon found themselves marching along the sand dunes underneath the sweltering sun. Vexed carried a purse, while Herba pulled a medium sized bag with wheels behind her. Lone Stallion and Belch were struggling with a large box, each guessing that it weighed somewhere between 200 pounds and seven tons.
"Okay... that's enough. Put it down, Pop," Stallion grunted, dropping his end of the box he had been carrying. He walked to the front of it, looking down. "What the hell's in this frigging thing, anyway?" He bent over and opened it, then stared at what was inside.
[What the...] Belch wrote, looking in.
"BRICKS?!? I've been lugging around 86,000 pounds of BRICKS?!?" Stallion shrieked. "I said take only what you need to survive!" he shouted at the princess.
"You said take whatever I want," Vexed retorted.
"Well, this is just RIDICULOUS! If you want these useless pieces of rock..."
[Bricks aren't made of rock.]
"Shut up. If you want them, YOU carry them," he stated, holding one out to her. She eyed it for a second, then swung her fist around and broke it in two. "Jeezus!" Stallion cried, jumping back.
"I use them for exercise and stress relief," Princess Vexed said airily. "Both of which are very important." Stallion contemplated her words and looked over at the box. He slammed his fist into it, shattering several of the bricks.
"Ooh, I can do that tooo," Lone Stallion mocked. Vexed strode forward and slammed HER fist into the box, shattering several more bricks.
"So?" she said indignantly.
Herba and Belch crossed their arms, safely out of the range of flying brick shards. "When they grow up?" Herba asked no one in particular. Belch sighed and watched the two youngsters smash bricks like a couple of kids fighting over a piece of bubble wrap. Ah, youth.

***

"Have you located them yet?" Thunder Helmet asked, holding a coffee mug. Colonel Headwear stood at a viewing screen with another man, waiting impatiently.
"No, sir," Headwear replied.
"GODDAMMIT TO HELL THOSE STUPID SONS OF BITHCES I'LL KICK THEIR ASSES FROM HERE TO JAMAICA!" Helmet cried, lurching around and kicking chairs. He stopped abruptly and took another sip from his mug. "Now, found anything yet?"
"No, sir," Headwear replied wearily.
"FUCK THOSE LOUSY BASTARDS I'LL FEED THEM TO THE MOTHERFUCKING BOARS WHEN WE GET THEM I'LL RAM FUCKING SKEWERS UP THEIR FUCKING ASSES!" Helmet shouted, slamming his fist into the wall. He stopped and took another sip. "Found anything yet?"
Headwear sighed. "No, sir."
"Damn."
Headwear turned to him in surprise.
"-IT TO HELL! I'LL RIP THOSE PIECE OF SHITS APART WITH MY BARE HANDS AND SMEAR THEIR INTESTINES ON MY HELMET!" He stopped shouting and drank again.
"Didn't I warn you to man the Tourette's?" Headwear said to a drowsy-looking man at a terminal, who apologized profusely and flipped a switch.
"Found anything yet?" Helmet inquired.
"No, sir," Headwear replied. After Helmet didn't burst into obscenities, he suddenly perked up. "Wait! I have an idea! You! Fetch me a copy of 'Hairballs' the fanfic!" The man he had spoken to rushed over to Mr. Archive.
"Colonel Headwear!" Helmet said. "Can I speak to you for a moment, please!" Headwear shrugged and walked over. Helmet flipped up his visor and asked in a rush, "How can there be a copy of 'Hairballs' the fanfic? The author's still in the middle of writing it!"
"It's a new breakthrough in home word processing. The fanfic can be in people's inboxes BEFORE it's completed," Headwear explained proudly.
Helmet stared at him for a moment, then said, "Can't be. Are you trying to put one over my Helmet?"
"Here it is, sir!" the man Headwear had ordered earlier announced, holding up a printout. Helmet jerked in surprise, spilling the contents of his mug in his lap. This was followed by silence, for exactly one second.
"EEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! HOTHOTHOTHOTHOT!!!" Thunder Helmet screamed majestically, running around like a headless chicken. He grabbed another thermos full of cold water and slapped it on his crotch. He sighed loudly. Suddenly, the wall he was standing in front of flickered and Lieutenant Kuonji appeared.
"Sir! I.." She trailed off and stared at the sight before her. Thunder Helmet, holding a rather long thermos on his crotch, stared back. "... Nevermind," she muttered, closing the connection. Helmet stared around wildly at the men, then stood up straight.
"Well, back to business. You were saying...?" he said, gesturing to the man holding the printout.
"Er... Yes! Of course. Here it is. 'Hairballs' the fanfic." The man tentatively held the papers out to Thunder Helmet, who snatched them and began reading.
It read: -Ranma smirked and as his tower of passion stood ramrod straight, glistening and quivering in the lust-filled air. Akane stared at it, then cried out in pleasure as he gave her the hot beef injection, thrusting deep into her love tunnel repeatedly. She moaned and twisted as his rod of love slid in and out of her slippery jade gates, and could feel his shaft buck and jerk, spilling his life seed into her-
The men all watched Helmet raptly. He was apparently frozen in place. The man who had handed him the fanfic looked at the papers lying on his desk, and gasped. "Sir!" he cried, snatching the papers. "That's the wrong fic!" Helmet ignored him, drooling. Headwear smacked him over the head.
Helmet shook his head, then looked around. "...uh ..." he muttered, glancing back down at the paper. "Who... who wrote this... um... filth... anyway?" he demanded not-too-convincingly while shoving it in his pocket. He grabbed the real thing and began reading.
It read: -Helmet shook his head, then looked around. "...uh ..." he muttered, glancing back down at the paper. "Who... who wrote this... um... filth... anyway?" he demanded not-too-convincingly while shoving it in his pocket. He grabbed the real thing and began reading.-
Helmet jerked his head up, then looked around. Headwear was reading over his shoulder, also looking surprised. Headwear began reading again, unaware of how ridiculous he looked with a thermos still on his crotch.
It read: -Headwear began reading again, unaware of how ridiculous he looked with a thermos still on his crotch.-
Helmet looked downwards at the thermos, gave a strangled squawk, then slapped it off. He looked around nervously, then began reading again. A man in the background held up a cardboard cut-out of a nut.
It read: - A man in the background held up a cardboard cut-out of a nut.-
Helmet whirled around, looking for the guilty party. One man held a cut-out of an arrow pointing at the man next to him, grinning nervously. The other man lost his hair very quickly. "What the heck's going on here?" Helmet cried ignorantly, looking at the papers with a stupid expression. "This is crazy!" he shouted in an insane and unreasonable voice. His ridiculous oversized helmet sat upon his fat head, making him look rather dumb. He lifted the precious papers again and began reading at a very slow speed.
After a few seconds, he reddened, then looked up. "Okay, this isn't funny anymore!" Except that it was. "I mean it!" he yelled, ignoring the righteously confused expressions of the men while making a complete fool of himself. While Thunder Idiot started swearing a blue streak, Colonel Headwear picked up the paper and glanced at it.
"Sir?" he said carefully. Helmet quit cursing at the ceiling and turned to him questioningly. "It says here that they are currently on Rootevega."
"What?" Thunder Helmet asked in a confused manner.
"We should set a course and prepare for arrival!" Headwear cried, gesturing for the men to do so.
"When?" Helmet cried.
"Oh, in 1900 hours," Headwear suggested.
"1900 HOURS?!?" Helmet shrieked. "That's too long!"
"Military mumbo jumbo, sir," Headwear explained patiently.
"Why do we have to use military time units?" Helmet demanded. "We have our own system, don't we?"
"Yes, but the reader doesn't know it, and it would confuse them and piss them off, making them stop reading," Headwear replied.
"Well, can't we explain it?" Helmet asked, waving his arms in the air impatiently.
"Yes, but it would be pointless when we can just use normal units everyone is familiar with!" Headwear shouted.
"But *I* wasn't familiar with it!" Helmet yelled.
"That's cause you've been struck by lightning IN THE HEAD four times now!" Headwear countered, shoving him.
"So?" Helmet demanded, shoving him back. "It has inspired me!"
"Well, why didn't you call yourself LIGHTNING Helmet?" Headwear inquired.
"'Tis too obvious, and would make it harder for the reader to identify my alter-ego," Helmet explained in a strange, logical voice.
"We're not supposed to know that!" Headwear cried, shushing him.

***

Princess Vexed sat near the campfire, wishing that it was a little closer. But, out here in the desert, there weren't any servants to move it for her. She sighed. Being a princess wasn't easy.
Lone Stallion was suddenly upon her, his filthy hands reaching for her exposed skin... So she whipped around and punched him in the fuel tanks. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backwards, groaning. She smiled satisfactorily; served him right for trying to take advantage of her!
"Just... trying... ohhh...." Stallion moaned, sitting up. "To offer... my coooat...." He crawled towards the fire and hunched next to her, over the luggage box she was sitting on. He dropped the coat in her lap and collapsed, catching his breath. She stared at him for a second, then shoved the coat away.
"I don't need it," she adamantly declared.
"What?!" Stallion cried, which came out as more of a tortured squeak. "You try to cripple me and then won't accept my offer?! Take it, it's freezing!"
"Oh, I guess," Vexed said, relenting. She slipped it on not-to-reluctantly and asked, "Won't you be cold?"
"Yes."
"...." Vexed stared at him intently.
An internal mini-Belch appeared in Lone Stallion's mind and smacked him with a sign. [Fool! Obey your testosterone!]
"... I mean, no, of course not," Stallion said quickly, cursing himself for his slip. How unmanly could you get?
Vexed stared up at the sky and sighed. "I can't find 'Do-idia anywhere," she said mournfully, looking off in the wrong direction.
"Well, if you would spend less attention on your hairdo, and watch the skies a little more, you just might have a better chance," Stallion said roughly.
"And how am I supposed to be able to see Do-idia in the sky when I'm usually ON it?" Vexed countered smugly. Stallion opened his mouth to reply, realized she was right, then nearly suffered a seizure for said realization. He instead formulated a reply to her first statement.
"It's over there, that bright green one," he said, pointing. Vexed leaned closer to get a better look. Lone Stallion was acutely aware of the fact that she had just leaned closer.
"Oh yeah! But it's so far..." she said, then turned towards him, realizing how close their faces were. Stallion could sense the feeling in the air and swallowed slightly. Vexed, realizing the mood they were drifting into, reacted accordingly and malleted him.
"What the hell's the matter with you, anyway?" Stallion hissed, rubbing his head.
"I'm protecting myself," Vexed stated matter-of-factly.
Stallion slapped a hand to his face. "From what?"
"You."
"Eh? ME?! Hey, you got it all wrong!" he protested, waving his arms, because everyone knows that that always helps to convince women that you're not lying, perhaps to "get some." Vexed, however, also knew what this particular type of arm-waving had a chance of meaning, and malleted him again.
"Pervert!" she shouted. She suddenly paused, then pulled a small book out of her pocket and flipped through it. Stallion squinted and read the title as "The Princess's Guide to Deflecting Perverts (AKA Men)."
"What the..." he trailed off in disbelief. "Who the hell gave you that?"
"My Social Affairs teacher," Vexed answered promptly. Stallion conjured a mental picture of a... lesbian. He groaned.
"Let me tell you something," he said, sitting back down next to her and plucking the book out of her fingers. "Not all men are perverts, and not all perverts are men. This teacher of yours was extremely prejudiced and must have never gotten any. Do you see what I'm trying to tell you?"
"I think..." Vexed said slowly. Stallion brightened. "You're saying I don't know anything!" she cried, raising her mallet again.
"Waitwaitwaitwaitwait!" Stallion squealed, covering his head. "Listen to me! I'm not a pervert! I'm NOT a pervert!" Vexed slowly lowered her mallet.
"Are you saying that everything I know is wrong?" she asked quietly.
"As far as men and perversions go, yes," Stallion answered. "But it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself. Or me. It's DEFINITELY not my fault." The mallet now gone, Vexed slowly sat down next to Stallion. She glanced over at him, then gazed into the dancing flames in front of her. Stallion watched apprehensively as she sighed, then leaned against his shoulder.
"It's just such a shock, that's all," she said quietly. Stallion gulped and stared at his arm, which seemed to be wanting to place itself around her shoulder, an idea he wasn't sure was such a good one. Freud had formulated a theory that human thinking could be separated into three different levels: The id, the ego, and the superego. The id dealt with basic primal instincts: Get close to woman. The ego dealt with how to go about satisfying these instincts: Place arm around shoulder. The superego dealt with the right and wrong of the issue: Girl may not WANT arm around shoulder, and decide that owner of said arm deserved an ass-whoopin.
Of course, Lone Stallion thought that "psychology" was an ice-cream flavor and that "Freud" was something you did on your tax forms, so he was still lost. He eventually gave in to the id and placed his arm around her shoulder. Both of the two young adults stiffened, then slowly relaxed. Stallion looked down at Vexed, and she at him. They slowly moved towards each other, eyes closing...
Lone Stallion was QUITE rudely interrupted by a loud noise that he soon realized was his own voice swearing in frustration and pain. He at first cursed himself for falling into a situation like that, then cursed Vexed for making him fall into a situation like that, then cursed Belch for snoring so damned loud. Then, he realized how hard it was to curse with a mouthful of sand and jumped up, looking around wildly. He saw a surprised-looking Vexed still sitting on the box, an angry-looking Herba standing up, and a dented bicycle lying nearby.
"Thub ub bu bah?" he asked in disbelief, pointing randomly.
"THAT virgin alarm, like bomb set to blow before you do," Herba explained angrily.
Belch, who had been awakened by the tinkling of bicycle bells, sat up and held a sign that read, [Actually, I believe that the woman usually does the b-]
"That quite enough," Herba said, hefting a pair of wicked-looking maces. Belch, who had always suffered from sensitive eyes and the memories of a bad childhood experience involving pepper, abruptly stopped writing.

***

The four weary travelers stumbled across the sand dunes, each incredibly thirsty, and none in the best of spirits. Stallion, sensing this, decided that some morale-boosting singing was in hand. "If you know the tune, sing along!" he shouted.
Vexed raised her head in surprise. "He's not going to..."
"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the STREAM..." Stallion sang, throwing his head back. Everyone else's eyes widened. "Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream!"
"Stream..." Vexed murmered.
"The itsy bits spider, went up the WATER spout. Down came the RAIN and washed the spider out!"
[Rain...] read Belch's sign.
"Siiiinging' in the RAIN!"
"Uh oh..." Herba said, noticing the effect Stallion was having on her companions. It was definitely NOT a good one.
"Rising up to the challenge of our rival! And the last lone survivor stalks his prey in the night, and he's watching us all in the eeeeeye..."
"Wha...?" Vexed muttered.
"Of the hm-hm," Stallion sang, oblivious to the stares he was receiving.
[Enough!] Belch's sign read as he smashed it into Stallion's head. Stallion punched him in the face and the two almost started fighting, until they realized that they were busy crossing an endless desert, and that sort of thing took concentration. To put it more accurately, however, they were pooped.
After a few more minutes of silence, much to everyone else's relief, Stallion decided that silence was boring. "EXIT LIGHT! ENTER NIGHT! TAKE MY HAND! WE'RE OFF TO NEVER-NEVER LAND!"
Vexed decided that that was a good idea and promptly sent him there, courtesy of her mallet.



End chapter 2