Author's note/disclaimer: I don't own WA 3. It belongs to Media Vision/Sony. And I don't own the symbol for John Deere Tracker or any of the references made to M*A*S*H, Final Fantasy Tactics or Rat Bastard, either. (Rat Bastard is a kick ass comic from Crucial Comics that you should read! Now!) ^_^
Well, here's yet another deranged humour fic from me. This was inspired by the conversation I've been having with Sea Wolf, so thanks to her for the idea! ^_^ Now read it, dammit!
"Clive And The Attack Of The Deranged Weedwhacker"
Written by Skylark Starflower
Started May 15, 2003
Finished May 16, 2003
It was another bright, shiny day on Filgaia. Of course, this was nothing special. It was always bright and shiny on Filgaia. That's what happens when your planet is a desert wasteland. The people of Filgaia would probably weep for joy for eight centimeters of rain twice a year.
But this story is not a weather report, so let's get on with it.
Virginia and her team were at Fila Del Fia, poking around looking for stuff. What were they looking for, now that Beatrice had been defeated and peace returned to the planet? How the hell should I know! Do I look like a mind reader?
Anyway, they were at Fila Del Fia looking for stuff.
"Hey, Clive, can you come over here for a minute?" called Jet. He had found a crack in the wall they had missed the first time around. Clive came over and placed a bomb by the wall, and the team took cover.
BA-BOOM!
Well, okay, I'm exaggerating. Clive's bombs don't have that kind of power, but anyway, it was enough to blow a hole in the wall.
Virginia looked into the room. "Wow!" she exclaimed, "what is all this stuff?"
The room was full of what, to Virginia and her uneducated team, seemed like ancient technology. It was in fact, a large supply of lawn care equipment, ranging from everything as big as ride on lawnmowers to the smallest of spades. Of course, none of them had the slightest clue what any of it was or what it was good for.
Clive reached out and touched a weedwhacker and pulled his hand back quickly as he received a static electric shock from it. Gallows picked it up after him.
"What do you suppose it's for?" asked Virginia.
"Dunno," replied Gallows, "but maybe Granny knows. Let's take this back with us and ask her."
Jet gave the machine a strange look as the group left with the whippersnipper. He could have sworn he'd heard it growl.
* * *
"Hmmm…"
Halle inspected the weedwhacker. She turned it this way and that, and then she handed it back to Gallows. "Shane, can you get the Book Of Jondeeres, please?"
Shane left the hut for a few moments before returning with a large green book adorned with a yellow stylized deer. This he handed to his grandmother, and she began flipping through the pages.
"Ah, yes, here we go. It says that the Neosapiens of Fila Del Fia had to tend to lawns, and that they invented all sorts of machines to help them with this work. They called this one a 'weedwhacker'."
Halle turned the book around and showed the team the ancient image. It was indeed the same thing they had brought back from the ruins. How about that, eh?
"What exactly was this 'weedwhacker' used for?" asked Clive as he pushed his glasses back up his nose for the millionth time that day.
"They would use it to trim weeds that grew in close to walls where 'lawnmowers' couldn't reach."
For no apparent reason, Clive shook his hand in an odd fashion and replied with, "ah, Bach." Then he made a strange face, shook his head, and got back to the current plot.
"That is very interesting, but it also means that we have no use for it."
"You can leave it in the storage hut," suggested Shane, "I'll take it there for you." Gallows handed the weedwhacker to his brother, and Shane left to put it away.
"Well, should we call it a day, leader?" asked Clive. Virginia nodded, and the team went to sleep in the middle of the day, because narcolepsy is fun.
* * *
Time passed and night fell, making it dark. Very dark. So dark you can't see what's going on. Not that you really need to, seeing as everyone was SLEEPING! I mean, really people.
In the darkened storage hut, an engine roared to life. The weedwhacker rumbled slowly over to the door, whacked the latch to pieces and made its way to the hut where Virginia and her crew were sleeping.
It wanted the one who had awoken it from its peaceful slumber.
It wanted the one … with the weedy hair.
…
…
Dun, dun, DUN!
…
…
Of course, you couldn't have seen any of that anyway. Like I had said, it was DARK! Duh.
* * *
Clive awoke with a start. If it hadn't been so dark, he would have been able to see that the others were still sleeping. But wait! Due to the Eternal Flame that burned within that very hut, the room wasn't quite so dark.
So, yeah, Clive noticed that he'd been the only one awakened suddenly. He pondered the cause momentarily before lying back down and getting back to the serious business of sleeping.
But before he could drift off back to La La Land, the whacking noise returned. He got up, walked over to the closed door and opened it a crack.
"AGGH!"
Clive jumped back in shock as the weedwhacker lunged at him. With courage born of surprise, he grabbed the thing and pushed it back out the door. Holding the door shut with his back, he called to the others for help.
"Uh, guys? That weedwhacker? It's alive!"
"Oh, go back to sleep, Clive," muttered Jet.
"They won't believe you. MWA HAA HAA HAA!" The voice seemed to speak directly to Clive's mind.
"And it's evil!" he added.
"Be quiet, Clive. I'm trying to sleep," mumbled Virginia.
There came a loud thump from something hitting the door very hard. Suddenly, the head of the weedwhacker broke through the door. [Insert Psycho music here]
Okay, that is it, thought Clive, I'll have to deal with this on my own.
Turning, he flung open the door.
And hit himself in the forehead with it.
"OW!"
Running outside, he faced the demon weedwhacker. The evil machine was waiting for him, sitting in the middle of the yard, looking for all the world like an innocent, non-sentient weedwhacker.
Clive drew his ARM. And I have to admit; it was a rather good likeness.
But anyway…
"What do you want with me?"
"You have awakened me." Once again, the voice spoke directly to his mind. "And that upset me. You see, I was perfectly happy being an inanimate object. But we can't have that, can we? No, some bugger has to come along and ruin it all by giving things life all willy-nilly!"
The weedwhacker launched itself at Clive's head. He ducked, but still got a lock of hair snipped off by the irate tool. Of course, my 'grammar' checker says that last line should read as: He ducked, but still done the irate tool snip off a lock of hair.
Who needs Babel Fish when you have that? Hello, Professor Daravon. Yeah.
"I will whack that weed you call hair!" shrieked the machine.
Clive tried to shoot the evil weedwhacker, but it was to small and too quick for him to be able to get a bead on, so he did the next best thing.
"Inspire!"
The lightning bolts struck the weedwhacker, but unfortunately for Clive, they had the opposite effect he had been hoping for. Instead of overloading it and blowing it up…
"Ah, I feel recharged!" The weedwhacker then launched itself at Clive's head again and whacked at him viciously.
It took a moment but the sniper finally managed to pry the deranged tool from his head. It was too late to save his hairdo, however, his once neat spikes whacked and frayed.
Clive blinked as slow realization dawned on him. He turned to the weedwhacker, his features serene, but eyes blazing, and brandished his ARM before him.
"Is this an ARM I see before me, or what?"
Then he shook his head again, and once again got back into the proper story.
"You shall pay for destroying my hair!" And he took a firm, backwards hold on his great big, overly complicated beat stick (also known as his ARM) and beat the weedwhacker until it was nothing more than a pile of scrap metal.
"You can't defeat me so easily!" came the dying voice of the evil machine, "I will be back, and I'll be more powerful than ever!"
Clive pushed his glasses back up his nose AGAIN, breathing hard, and attempted to fix the mess the weedwhacker had made of his hair.
Finding this job impossible, he shook his head and went back to bed. Why? Why not? I mean, it was the middle of the night, after all, and he did just finish fighting for his life against demented lawn care equipment. I mean, come on, people. You're smarter than that. Really. Would I lie to you?
* * *
The next day dawned bright and sunny. Of course, we've already been through this, so let's not get started again.
Ahem. So, yeah, the sun came up, and with it rose four Drifters. Three of which screamed very loudly when they saw the state of the fourth's hair.
"My god, Clive, what did you do to your hair?!" exclaimed Jet.
"Nothing. That evil weedwhacker did this to me!" he replied.
The others gave him disbelieving looks.
"Yeah, sure, and Granny'll sprout wings and fly," said Gallows. It was at this point that Shane came running into the room.
"Brother! Come quick! You have to see this!"
The team ran outside and lo and behold, there was Halle, flying around the colony on some newly grown wings. (Oh come on, you could see that coming from a mile away!)
"Whee! I don't know what happened here, but this sure is fun!" cried Halle happily.
Gallows scratched his head. "Huh, well, whaddya know."
Clive crossed his arms, looking smug. "Told you so."
The EndBe on the lookout for the exciting sequel, coming to a theater near you! "Clive and the Attack of the Ride On Lawnmower!"
Clive ran, screaming, as the Ride On Lawnmower bore down on him…
(The Real End!)