Chibi Rapfest Trailer-Trash Trigun Theatre

Possibly the most rotten, stinking, godawful offensive song fic in the history of fic-dom. It crawled into my ear in the shower and I had to get it out of my head.

Chapter Two: Rap, Rap, Rapping on Heaven's Door

Wolfwood and Vash are ambling down the sidewalk along the border of Hilltop and civilization.

Wolfwood: Ya know, this is a low income podunk kind of town, right?

Vash: Right.

Wolfwood: So, how come everybody in this raggedy ass little trailer park of ours is white?

Vash: What? Hey, you know, I never thought about that.

Wolfwood: T'ain't nobody here but us po' white trash. Strange, ain't it?

Vash: Bet your phoney hick accent drives them off.

Wolfwood: Nah, it's your pea-brained pimp daddy prostytootin'.

Vash: No, it's that awful screeching you call singing.

Wolfwood: {offended} It's "rapping." It's not "singing."

Vash: What's the difference?

Wolfwood: Apparently nothing to your uncultivated ears. Boy, you better learn this fast if you want to make it on the street. Rapping is like poetry, defining attitude, expressing independence...

Vash: Crossing your arms, displaying your hoes.

Wolfwood: You only get those if you're good. Singing, on the other hand, is less about gunfire and more about notes. Here, listen to this and tell me if it's rapping or singing.

Vash: Dear Lord, no.

Wolfwood: And no blasphemy! Or I'll use this! {whips out his mini-confessional. A small black cat drops out of the bottom and runs off, meowing.}

Vash: Ok, ok, let's just get it over with.

Wolfwood: {to the tune of "Slop the Hogs."}

My self-esteem is in the tubes,
My life is full of woes,
But I know just the thing to do,
It's time to slap the hoes.

Slap the hooooooooes,
slap the hooooooooes.
I thought she was a lady
but she's just a skanky ho.

Those lazy hoes must pay their dues
so I can buy some clothes.
They'll bring in dough or I'll make news,
It's time to slap the hoes.

Slap the hoooooooooes,
slap the hoooooooooes.
Teach them bitches who's the boss
and make them lick your toes!

My girls work cheap but they ain't free
as anybody knows,
I'm living in misogyny,
It's time to slap the hoes.

Sell dem hoes for drugs and cash,
dressed in leather, chains and sash,
if they bitch they'll get the lash,
it's time to slap the hoes.

Vash: {trembling} Make it stop, please.

Wolfwood: So what was that, rap or singing?

Vash: It was awful. Awful, awful, awful.

Wolfwood: Come on.

Vash: I can't hear you, my ears went on strike at the refrain.

Wolfwood: Fine. Now for the next one. Listen closely.

Vash has curled up in a little ball. The small black cat wanders up. It sniffs Vash curiously. Suddenly from out of hyperspace pop chibi Meryl and Milly! Milly is manning a portable two-plate D.J. table balanced on her very pregnant belly. Meryl is dressed in the leather bikini-thing from chapter one. She puts on a pair of sunglasses, crosses her arms and scowls.

Chibi Wolfwood: {to the scratching of records and very loud bass}

Huh! Mee-sa good in bed!
That's what she said! In bed!
Lookit my chains, ain't they shiny and def!
I can rap on for hours till I run out of breath!

I'm Masta Peeps! My hoes are my sheeps!
When they get out of line I makes 'em weeps!
You can try 'em but you can't buy them!
'cause they be mine and I kind of like 'em!

Lookit my limo, ain't it stylin'!
It matches my shoes and my hat, I ain't lyin'!
Don't mess with this mutha, I'll put you to shame,
then I'll do something nasty and you'll get the blame.

My gun is da bomb! It holds 50 bullets!
I use it to shoot things like guys wearing mullets!
'cept I never so dumb to take lead on a plane.
The brothers who do that ain't got no brain!

Ho yuh!

{Exit Meryl and Milly. Vash is lying in the curb, writhing in agony. The cat has dived for cover. Wolfwood looks hurt.}

Wolfwood: Can you tell the difference now?

Vash: I want to die. I want to die.