Author's Note: *blows dust off of fic* Yes, it's beem a while, hasn't it,
folks? Nevertheless, I was wandering around the blacktop at lunch today
when inspiration struck me. It hurt, too. Anyway, I finally decided to
update my random insanity fic. Lucky you.
OK, just so you know, my current insanity is induced by my serious case of WBW. If I find a decent excuse to beat the living hell out of Lloyd, my tedious hold on sanity will return. K? Good.
Chapter 10
*The RV is currently stuck in the middle of the road with a flat tire.*
Random Guy: *conveniently walks by with a spare tire*
Rayen: How coincidental. Hey, can we have that?
Random Guy: No hablo inglés, señor.
Rayen: Oh, great. *turns to the group* Hey, anyone here know Spanish?
Striker: Ooh! I do! I take it in school! *walks over to the Spanish guy* *ahem* ¿Dónde está mi galleta? (Translation: Where is my waffle?)
Spanish Guy: ¿Qué? (Translation: What?)
Striker: Mi pollo no tiene pantalones. (Translation: My chicken has no pants.)
Spanish Guy: O_o
Striker: Cientos tejones han tomado la residencia en mi nariz izquierda. (Translation: One hundred badgers have taken up residence in my left nostril.)
Doel: Screw this. *smacks the Spanish guy upside the head and takes the tire*
Striker: Awww...
************************************************************************
*Later, the RV is back on the road again. Rayen is driving like a sane person, so nothing is wrong in that department. However, things aren't quite as tranquil in the back.*
Dart: *grumble* How come I have to be the chick?
Lavitz: Because Striker is busy trying to figure out how the offseason schedule works in Madden NFL 2003, so now we're playing Mystic Heroes. Besides, you chose your character.
Dart: Yeah, but she's the only one that can burn things!
Lavitz: At least you don't have the one with the bad haircut.
Doel: If you two would shut up, maybe I wouldn't be beating you so badly.
Lavitz: Um... I'm winning by two thousand points.
Doel: *eyes glow red*
Lavitz: Er... nevermind.
Doel: Smart man.
Striker: *comes out of the kitchen having quaffed an unknown amount of Mountain Dew cans* Okey dokey, kiddies, I've got an announcement to make!
Rose: You're finally ending this fic so I can go slit my throat in peace?
Striker: Pfft, fat chance.
Kongol: Kongol can go potty?
Striker: Nope.
Kongol: _ Ooooohhh...
Striker: On second thought, GO. Quickly.
Meru: CANDY?
Striker: No.
Miranda: @#$%?
Striker: *shudder* No thank you.
Doel: Will you just get ON with whatever it is? I must wreak havoc!
Striker: Okey dokey, I felt as though this fic was dragging a bit, so I decided to hurry up the journey to Canada to get my moose.
Doel: And HOW exactly do you plan to do that?
Striker: Simple! With Hyper-Ultra-Super-Wow-That's-Very-Very-Very-Fast-Holy- #$%^-We're-Gonna-Die Speed!
Haschel: Why do I not like the sound of that?
Dart: Excellent!
Striker: Let us ride to the cockpit!
Dart: O_o Ride what?
Striker: *smack*
************************************************************************
(Servi: Yes, I'm narrator in this godforsaken fic now too. Striker is followed by Dart, Lavitz, and Doel, who are the only ones brave enough to enter the front of the RV when Striker's about to engage something called "Hyper-Ultra-Super-Wow-That's-Very-Very-Very-Fast-Holy-#$%^-We're-Gonna-Die Speed".)
Rayen: *humming as he drives*
Striker: *kicks the door down, for no other reason besides he likes causing destruction and for dramatic effect* Move over, Rayen. Your shift's over.
Rayen: Already? Whose turn is it now?
Striker: *demonic grin* Mine.
Rayen: But you're not old enough to drive...
Striker: Bah, that won't matter in a minute. Besides you think I'm going to trust any of you with Hyper-Ultra-Super-Wow-That's-Very-Very-Very-Fast-Holy- #$%^-We're-Gonna-Die Speed?
Rayen: Uh-oh...
Dart: Ah, just sit back and watch the world come to an end. It's not our dimension, why should we care?
Rayen: *shrugs and moves*
Striker: Eeeexcellent. *opens the glove compartment*
Rayen: O_o Dude, that's the glove compartment.
Striker: Duh. *points to above line, and shoves all the owner's manuals and random junk to one side, revealing a keypad on which he begins typing a 247- digit passcode*
Doel: *trying to follow code for further diabolic use, but loses it after digit 36* Feh.
Striker: *finishes code, and keypad withdraws into the glove compartment, and a single keyhole pops up*
Dart: Spiffy...
Striker: *pulls lockbox out of his pocket, whispers secret password into the voice-recognition software which disengages the lock, and he opens the lockbox to reveal the key*
Lavitz: Talk about maximum security...
Striker: *inserts the key in the hole and twists, and a blue button pops up*
Dart: What, that's it?
Striker: What do you mean?
Dart: You did all that for one lousy button? It's not even big! You think there'd at least be a big flashing panel or something! Besides, the button's blue! Those buttons are supposed to be red. Dramatic buttons are always red! For someone who kicks down doors for dramatic effect, you don't know much about this sort of thing, do you?
Striker: Give it a rest. Besides, I like blue. *pushes it, and a loud bang sounds from somewhere in the engine's general vicinity*
Dart: What, no flashing lights, no sudden makeover of the driver's seat?
Striker: Dart?
Dart: Yes?
Striker: Shut up.
Dart: *pouts*
Striker: Right. *jumps into the driver's seat* Here we go!
Lavitz: He's got that maniacal glint in his eyes again...
Rayen: Creator preserve us...
Striker: WEEDOG! *hits the gas, and the RV suddenly bursts into motion at about 70 bajillion miles per hour*
Rayen: Holy #$%^, we're gonna die!
Dart: Yep, that's what it's called.
Doel: *can't reach Dart because he's pressed against the wall in abject terror* Idiot.
Striker: *RV makes a loud crashing noise and he looks out the window* Hmm. We're in Seattle. I hope they won't be needing that Space Needle...
Lavitz: You totalled the Space Needle?
Striker: . Nooooo...
Rayen: What happens when the cops catch up to us?
Striker: Catch up with this? Not likely. *turns left and hits the gas again, stopping after about 5 seconds* Well, here we are. Somewhere in British Columbia. Now let's find a moose.
Lavitz: Wait, what do you mean, 'somewhere'?
Striker: Please. When you're traveling this fast, pinpointing location isn't the easiest thing to do. Now, I need two expendable people to go and get me a moose. Because I can revive pretty much anyone, that's not much of a problem. Dart and Doel, you're elected.
Dart: Sweet.
Doel: *grumble*
Striker: *hands them both a syringe* Just get the DNA and get out.
Dart and Doel: *leave*
Striker: *blink* Hey, has anyone seen Albert?
Miranda: $%^&, are you some sort of #$%^ing MORON? *points to the Serdian king, who is STILL attached to her midsection*
Striker: Ah. *ahem* Pardon, Your Majesty, but the title of the supermarket chain is purely coincidental and relates to your fatherhood in no way whatsoever. Therefore, your esteemed Silver Dragon Knight comrade respectfully requests for you to release her abdomen.
Albert: *lets go* Affirmative. A slight misconception.
Haschel: OK, how did you do that?
Striker: Why do you people always avoid the obvious solution? Besides, you just have to put it into Albert-speak.
Miranda: *celebrates her newfound freedom prancing about sniffing flowers*
Striker: O_o Disturbing.
************************************************************************
(Servi: Meanwhile, with Dart and Doel...)
Dart: There's one! *points to moose*
Doel: Right. Go get it.
Dart: What about you?
Doel: I'll wait until you get trampled, thanks.
Dart: OK! *blink, pause* Hey, wait a second...
Doel: *takes advantage of Dart's incredibly short attention span and points to moose* Moose. Fetch.
Dart: *blink* Oh yeah! *dresses in a black SWAT team uniform, smears face in black paint, and starts hopping through the nearby trees*
Doel: *sighs*
Dart: *jumps down from above tree on top of moose, holding syringe like a spear* AYIYIYIYIYIYIIIIIIIIIIIIII!
(Servi: The moose waits for about two seconds before chucking the insane pyro off its back.)
Doel: *walks over to moose, inserts syringe, then walks over to where Dart fell, with the moose standing docilely behind him* Idiot.
Dart: Well, ANYONE could have done that...
************************************************************************
(Servi: Dart and Doel return to the R.V.)
Striker: Excellent. *zaps DNA off to lab for future experiments in psychopathic genetics*
Rayen: OK, so what now?
Striker: Simple. We must now fix the broken Caps Lock key.
Lavitz: Oh yeah... I forgot about that.
Striker: Anyway, to fix it, we need an emperor penguin, a kielbasa, and a waffle iron. Then we take those to a computer repair shop to fix the key.
Albert: How would a flightless bird that makes its habitat in subzero temperatures, an Eastern European sausage, and a kitchen appliance aid us in any concievable way to repair our labor-saving keyboard extention?
All:...
Dart: What?
Striker: He said, 'How will a penguin, a kielbasa, and a waffle iron help us fix the Caps Lock key?'
Albert: Indeed.
Striker: Technology works in mysterious ways... *wiggles fingers* Anyway, off to Antartica!
Lavitz: Oh Soa...
Striker: *hits gas* VROOM!
Rayen: Hey, what happens when we hit the ocean?
Striker: *pauses* You know, I hadn't thought of that.
Greham: We're doomed...
Author's Note: Yes, I finally finished that. Mwahaha... fear me. Yes. Review!
OK, just so you know, my current insanity is induced by my serious case of WBW. If I find a decent excuse to beat the living hell out of Lloyd, my tedious hold on sanity will return. K? Good.
Chapter 10
*The RV is currently stuck in the middle of the road with a flat tire.*
Random Guy: *conveniently walks by with a spare tire*
Rayen: How coincidental. Hey, can we have that?
Random Guy: No hablo inglés, señor.
Rayen: Oh, great. *turns to the group* Hey, anyone here know Spanish?
Striker: Ooh! I do! I take it in school! *walks over to the Spanish guy* *ahem* ¿Dónde está mi galleta? (Translation: Where is my waffle?)
Spanish Guy: ¿Qué? (Translation: What?)
Striker: Mi pollo no tiene pantalones. (Translation: My chicken has no pants.)
Spanish Guy: O_o
Striker: Cientos tejones han tomado la residencia en mi nariz izquierda. (Translation: One hundred badgers have taken up residence in my left nostril.)
Doel: Screw this. *smacks the Spanish guy upside the head and takes the tire*
Striker: Awww...
************************************************************************
*Later, the RV is back on the road again. Rayen is driving like a sane person, so nothing is wrong in that department. However, things aren't quite as tranquil in the back.*
Dart: *grumble* How come I have to be the chick?
Lavitz: Because Striker is busy trying to figure out how the offseason schedule works in Madden NFL 2003, so now we're playing Mystic Heroes. Besides, you chose your character.
Dart: Yeah, but she's the only one that can burn things!
Lavitz: At least you don't have the one with the bad haircut.
Doel: If you two would shut up, maybe I wouldn't be beating you so badly.
Lavitz: Um... I'm winning by two thousand points.
Doel: *eyes glow red*
Lavitz: Er... nevermind.
Doel: Smart man.
Striker: *comes out of the kitchen having quaffed an unknown amount of Mountain Dew cans* Okey dokey, kiddies, I've got an announcement to make!
Rose: You're finally ending this fic so I can go slit my throat in peace?
Striker: Pfft, fat chance.
Kongol: Kongol can go potty?
Striker: Nope.
Kongol: _ Ooooohhh...
Striker: On second thought, GO. Quickly.
Meru: CANDY?
Striker: No.
Miranda: @#$%?
Striker: *shudder* No thank you.
Doel: Will you just get ON with whatever it is? I must wreak havoc!
Striker: Okey dokey, I felt as though this fic was dragging a bit, so I decided to hurry up the journey to Canada to get my moose.
Doel: And HOW exactly do you plan to do that?
Striker: Simple! With Hyper-Ultra-Super-Wow-That's-Very-Very-Very-Fast-Holy- #$%^-We're-Gonna-Die Speed!
Haschel: Why do I not like the sound of that?
Dart: Excellent!
Striker: Let us ride to the cockpit!
Dart: O_o Ride what?
Striker: *smack*
************************************************************************
(Servi: Yes, I'm narrator in this godforsaken fic now too. Striker is followed by Dart, Lavitz, and Doel, who are the only ones brave enough to enter the front of the RV when Striker's about to engage something called "Hyper-Ultra-Super-Wow-That's-Very-Very-Very-Fast-Holy-#$%^-We're-Gonna-Die Speed".)
Rayen: *humming as he drives*
Striker: *kicks the door down, for no other reason besides he likes causing destruction and for dramatic effect* Move over, Rayen. Your shift's over.
Rayen: Already? Whose turn is it now?
Striker: *demonic grin* Mine.
Rayen: But you're not old enough to drive...
Striker: Bah, that won't matter in a minute. Besides you think I'm going to trust any of you with Hyper-Ultra-Super-Wow-That's-Very-Very-Very-Fast-Holy- #$%^-We're-Gonna-Die Speed?
Rayen: Uh-oh...
Dart: Ah, just sit back and watch the world come to an end. It's not our dimension, why should we care?
Rayen: *shrugs and moves*
Striker: Eeeexcellent. *opens the glove compartment*
Rayen: O_o Dude, that's the glove compartment.
Striker: Duh. *points to above line, and shoves all the owner's manuals and random junk to one side, revealing a keypad on which he begins typing a 247- digit passcode*
Doel: *trying to follow code for further diabolic use, but loses it after digit 36* Feh.
Striker: *finishes code, and keypad withdraws into the glove compartment, and a single keyhole pops up*
Dart: Spiffy...
Striker: *pulls lockbox out of his pocket, whispers secret password into the voice-recognition software which disengages the lock, and he opens the lockbox to reveal the key*
Lavitz: Talk about maximum security...
Striker: *inserts the key in the hole and twists, and a blue button pops up*
Dart: What, that's it?
Striker: What do you mean?
Dart: You did all that for one lousy button? It's not even big! You think there'd at least be a big flashing panel or something! Besides, the button's blue! Those buttons are supposed to be red. Dramatic buttons are always red! For someone who kicks down doors for dramatic effect, you don't know much about this sort of thing, do you?
Striker: Give it a rest. Besides, I like blue. *pushes it, and a loud bang sounds from somewhere in the engine's general vicinity*
Dart: What, no flashing lights, no sudden makeover of the driver's seat?
Striker: Dart?
Dart: Yes?
Striker: Shut up.
Dart: *pouts*
Striker: Right. *jumps into the driver's seat* Here we go!
Lavitz: He's got that maniacal glint in his eyes again...
Rayen: Creator preserve us...
Striker: WEEDOG! *hits the gas, and the RV suddenly bursts into motion at about 70 bajillion miles per hour*
Rayen: Holy #$%^, we're gonna die!
Dart: Yep, that's what it's called.
Doel: *can't reach Dart because he's pressed against the wall in abject terror* Idiot.
Striker: *RV makes a loud crashing noise and he looks out the window* Hmm. We're in Seattle. I hope they won't be needing that Space Needle...
Lavitz: You totalled the Space Needle?
Striker: . Nooooo...
Rayen: What happens when the cops catch up to us?
Striker: Catch up with this? Not likely. *turns left and hits the gas again, stopping after about 5 seconds* Well, here we are. Somewhere in British Columbia. Now let's find a moose.
Lavitz: Wait, what do you mean, 'somewhere'?
Striker: Please. When you're traveling this fast, pinpointing location isn't the easiest thing to do. Now, I need two expendable people to go and get me a moose. Because I can revive pretty much anyone, that's not much of a problem. Dart and Doel, you're elected.
Dart: Sweet.
Doel: *grumble*
Striker: *hands them both a syringe* Just get the DNA and get out.
Dart and Doel: *leave*
Striker: *blink* Hey, has anyone seen Albert?
Miranda: $%^&, are you some sort of #$%^ing MORON? *points to the Serdian king, who is STILL attached to her midsection*
Striker: Ah. *ahem* Pardon, Your Majesty, but the title of the supermarket chain is purely coincidental and relates to your fatherhood in no way whatsoever. Therefore, your esteemed Silver Dragon Knight comrade respectfully requests for you to release her abdomen.
Albert: *lets go* Affirmative. A slight misconception.
Haschel: OK, how did you do that?
Striker: Why do you people always avoid the obvious solution? Besides, you just have to put it into Albert-speak.
Miranda: *celebrates her newfound freedom prancing about sniffing flowers*
Striker: O_o Disturbing.
************************************************************************
(Servi: Meanwhile, with Dart and Doel...)
Dart: There's one! *points to moose*
Doel: Right. Go get it.
Dart: What about you?
Doel: I'll wait until you get trampled, thanks.
Dart: OK! *blink, pause* Hey, wait a second...
Doel: *takes advantage of Dart's incredibly short attention span and points to moose* Moose. Fetch.
Dart: *blink* Oh yeah! *dresses in a black SWAT team uniform, smears face in black paint, and starts hopping through the nearby trees*
Doel: *sighs*
Dart: *jumps down from above tree on top of moose, holding syringe like a spear* AYIYIYIYIYIYIIIIIIIIIIIIII!
(Servi: The moose waits for about two seconds before chucking the insane pyro off its back.)
Doel: *walks over to moose, inserts syringe, then walks over to where Dart fell, with the moose standing docilely behind him* Idiot.
Dart: Well, ANYONE could have done that...
************************************************************************
(Servi: Dart and Doel return to the R.V.)
Striker: Excellent. *zaps DNA off to lab for future experiments in psychopathic genetics*
Rayen: OK, so what now?
Striker: Simple. We must now fix the broken Caps Lock key.
Lavitz: Oh yeah... I forgot about that.
Striker: Anyway, to fix it, we need an emperor penguin, a kielbasa, and a waffle iron. Then we take those to a computer repair shop to fix the key.
Albert: How would a flightless bird that makes its habitat in subzero temperatures, an Eastern European sausage, and a kitchen appliance aid us in any concievable way to repair our labor-saving keyboard extention?
All:...
Dart: What?
Striker: He said, 'How will a penguin, a kielbasa, and a waffle iron help us fix the Caps Lock key?'
Albert: Indeed.
Striker: Technology works in mysterious ways... *wiggles fingers* Anyway, off to Antartica!
Lavitz: Oh Soa...
Striker: *hits gas* VROOM!
Rayen: Hey, what happens when we hit the ocean?
Striker: *pauses* You know, I hadn't thought of that.
Greham: We're doomed...
Author's Note: Yes, I finally finished that. Mwahaha... fear me. Yes. Review!