Chapter 14
-----
Bare-It emerged from the Nibel Mountains, and quickly sought out Trent's camp. He found Trent, Vincent, and Cait Sith asleep in their tents, and Yuppie asleep on watch. Tifa, Aeris, and Bare-It bedded down, and Arsechimp stood watch.
When Yuppie woke up, she found that her pack had been completely emptied of food, and there were tooth-marks all over the fasteners. Arsechimp was innocently marking the trees in the vicinity when he got a boot up his ass.
The sound of cheering drew Yuppie's attention upwards. "Cait Sith," she called, "Did Arsechimp chase you up a tree again?"
Trent was upset at Bare-It for abandoning his watch on the Batmobile, but had to admit that the lingering smell of Yuppie's ripper would serve as an effective theft-deterrent system.
Yuppie turned out to be an expert tracker as well as a ninja. She followed Sephy's tracks until they reached a village with a gigantic tilted phallus in the middle of it.
Trent called a group meeting. "Aeris and Bare-It, you come into the town with me. Tifa, you're in charge of the others. Surround the city--Don't make it obvious you're surrounding the city, but make sure if anyone--Sephy or not--goes in or out, you know who it is and what direction they're going in."
Tifa nodded.
A pink airplane buzzed overhead at treetop height as Trent entered the city of "Rocket Town."
"That would make a damn fine mode of transport, my fellows," said Aeris, "Let's steal it."
"Steal?" asked Bare-It, "Steal is such a nasty word. Let's say borrow instead."
"It's not borrowing if the real owner doesn't know about it."
"Well, let's ask for it, then."
"And if the owner says no?"
"Then we'll steal it. But only then can you call it stealing."
They followed the path of the plane to a house near the center of town. They had a look at the plane.
"Pink," muttered Trent, disgusted, "Who would commit such a crime?"
"I think it's cute," said Aeris, who, coincidentally, was draped in pink from head to toe.
"You would. I can't believe someone would make or buy such a beautiful machine and then ruin it all by painting it pink."
They stepped into the house to see the owner. They found a woman, Shera, who said that Cid, the owner, could be found in the rocket.
"Rocket?" inquired Trent.
"You know," drawled Shera sarcastically, "That itty-bitty little structure hovering over the town like an omen of doom?"
"Oh, the gigantic phallus!"
Shera gave a start, then glanced out the window at the rocket. An appreciative grin came over her face. She started to chuckle, and Trent nervously backed out of the room.
Trent did indeed find Cid in the rocketship.
"Hi!" shouted the stout fellow, "Are you with the Hair Club?"
"No, I'm here to meet some guy named Cid," answered Trent.
"That's me," said the man, "Cid. Cid Wudjalookithatschlong! I'm the Master of this rocketship!"
Trent's attention wandered as Cid drawled on and on about the Shinra Space program, and how it was cancelled after Shera forced them to cancel the original planned liftoff in order to double-check one of the fuel tanks.
"...But now," Cid was saying when his tone indicated that he was about to wrap up the speech, "the President of the Hair Club for Men is coming here, here! It can only be because they're resuming funding for the Space Program!"
"The President?" inquired Trent.
"Yeah, not only is he the President of the Hair Club for Men--He's also a client!"
"He's coming here?"
"Yeah."
"SHIT!" exclaimed Trent.
"Watch your tongue," chided Cid.
Trent stuck his tongue out, and attempted to look at it, crossing his eyes in the process. It made him look quite silly.
"I see England, I see France," chanted Bare-It, "I see Trent's...um..."
"Uvula?" supplied Cid.
"I didn't even know guys had uvulas." said Bare-It.
"Hey, Bare-It," asked Aeris, "Where are England and France?"
"I don't know," admitted Bare-It, "It's just a bloody rhyme!"
"But it doesn't rhyme!"
"Oh, go to the Island Closest to Hell."
Cid invited the three questors back to his home. He burst through the door of his house.
"Shera!" he barked, "Make some goddamn tea!"
"Cideth Wudjalookitthatschlong!" snapped Shera.
Cid glanced at Bare-It. "Yes," he said, "It's very impressive."
"That's not what I meant," screamed Shera, "I meant watch your goddamn language!"
"You're not fooling anyone, you goddamn shrew! You just want to see my uvula!"
"I didn't even know guys had uvulas," remarked Shera.
An hour later, there was a break in the swearing, and Trent managed to outline the peril to the earth posed by Sephy Lee Roth and why they needed the pink airplane to pursue him to the ends of the earth.
"...You'd be welcome to come along, as well," concluded Trent.
"I don't know," said Cid, "It sounds kind of dangerous. I mean, around here, Shera nags me nigh unto death about my chain-smoking, but that's only nigh unto death. It sounds like you're walking into the jaws of death on a regular basis."
"Oh, death's all right once you get used to it," persuaded Trent.
"What, just ignore it, and it'll go away?" asked Cid incredulously.
"Oh, no, that would be a really bad idea. If you ignore it, it'll pull your guts out with an iron hook and feed them to you."
Cid fainted dead away.
The following day, Palmer of the Hair Club for Men's Comic Relief division waddled into the city, followed by President Cyril Rufus, his hair plugs whistling in the wind. Cid walked out to the town square to meet with Rufus, while Trent and his friends hid in Cid's back yard with the airplane. Thus it was that they foiled an insidious plot.
Well, OK, maybe insidious is the wrong word to use to describe the plot, per se, but it works really well with "foiled". The plot itself was merely sneaky. While Cid's attention was occupied with Rufus, Palmer snuck around back to steal the airplane. There he met Trent, Bare-It, and Aeris.
"Oh, fudge," swore Palmer, "I was hoping I wouldn't have to fight. I'm not the fighting sort, you know."
"Oh," inquired Aeris, "Just what is your function?"
"Didn't you hear the first time? I'm the comic relief. I religiously abstain from doing anything funny, and under no circumstances do I shamelessly plug the Author's website."
"You mean Bastardly Productions?"
"Yeah, that's the one, at http://gnomes.usuck.com/. I'm also not supposed to mention The Tower of Babble, a language site located at http://citizenbleys.virtualave.net/, perfect for students of Japanese!"
A glowing hand reached out of the sky and swatted Palmer on the ass.
"Sorry, Oh Mighty and God-Like Author Or Words To That Extent!" he called into the sky, "I forgot that I wasn't supposed to mention Bastardly Productions...damn!"
"Enough of this shit!" called Arsechimp from the cockpit, "Everybody get on board, we're getting out of here!"
Everybody piled onto the airplane, and it took off.
The plane circled, descended, and landed in Cid's yard again.
"Dammit, Palmer, not you!" exclaimed Trent and hurled him bodily off of the plane. He landed in an enormous pile of manure. The plane revved up again, and began taking off. They narrowly passed over Cid and Rufus's heads. Cid leaped up and caught one of the struts, and RAZOR guards began firing machine guns at the plane.
Climbing onto the wing of the plane, Cid crowed, "Alright! Go, Pink Panther!"
"Pink Panther?" inquired Trent.
"The name of the plane." explained Cid.
Trent leaned over the side and threw up.
"Airsick?" inquired Cid.
"Something like that," muttered Trent.
For the first time, Cid glanced at the cockpit. "Hey," he said, "I didn't know that dogs could operate aircraft!"
"They can't," replied Bare-It, puzzled.
"We can't?" asked Arsechimp.
"I could have swore I read that someplace," said Bare-It distantly.
The Pink Panther abruptly pitched forward and lurched into the heaving sea below.
Preview of Chapter 15:
"Can you ask your friend to stop pissing in our swimming pool?"
"Oh, it's not serious burning. I happen to enjoy burning. In fact, I'm the best burner in Cid's knights!"
"Isn't this what they do when they can't afford to hire enough actors?"
-----
Bare-It emerged from the Nibel Mountains, and quickly sought out Trent's camp. He found Trent, Vincent, and Cait Sith asleep in their tents, and Yuppie asleep on watch. Tifa, Aeris, and Bare-It bedded down, and Arsechimp stood watch.
When Yuppie woke up, she found that her pack had been completely emptied of food, and there were tooth-marks all over the fasteners. Arsechimp was innocently marking the trees in the vicinity when he got a boot up his ass.
The sound of cheering drew Yuppie's attention upwards. "Cait Sith," she called, "Did Arsechimp chase you up a tree again?"
Trent was upset at Bare-It for abandoning his watch on the Batmobile, but had to admit that the lingering smell of Yuppie's ripper would serve as an effective theft-deterrent system.
Yuppie turned out to be an expert tracker as well as a ninja. She followed Sephy's tracks until they reached a village with a gigantic tilted phallus in the middle of it.
Trent called a group meeting. "Aeris and Bare-It, you come into the town with me. Tifa, you're in charge of the others. Surround the city--Don't make it obvious you're surrounding the city, but make sure if anyone--Sephy or not--goes in or out, you know who it is and what direction they're going in."
Tifa nodded.
A pink airplane buzzed overhead at treetop height as Trent entered the city of "Rocket Town."
"That would make a damn fine mode of transport, my fellows," said Aeris, "Let's steal it."
"Steal?" asked Bare-It, "Steal is such a nasty word. Let's say borrow instead."
"It's not borrowing if the real owner doesn't know about it."
"Well, let's ask for it, then."
"And if the owner says no?"
"Then we'll steal it. But only then can you call it stealing."
They followed the path of the plane to a house near the center of town. They had a look at the plane.
"Pink," muttered Trent, disgusted, "Who would commit such a crime?"
"I think it's cute," said Aeris, who, coincidentally, was draped in pink from head to toe.
"You would. I can't believe someone would make or buy such a beautiful machine and then ruin it all by painting it pink."
They stepped into the house to see the owner. They found a woman, Shera, who said that Cid, the owner, could be found in the rocket.
"Rocket?" inquired Trent.
"You know," drawled Shera sarcastically, "That itty-bitty little structure hovering over the town like an omen of doom?"
"Oh, the gigantic phallus!"
Shera gave a start, then glanced out the window at the rocket. An appreciative grin came over her face. She started to chuckle, and Trent nervously backed out of the room.
Trent did indeed find Cid in the rocketship.
"Hi!" shouted the stout fellow, "Are you with the Hair Club?"
"No, I'm here to meet some guy named Cid," answered Trent.
"That's me," said the man, "Cid. Cid Wudjalookithatschlong! I'm the Master of this rocketship!"
Trent's attention wandered as Cid drawled on and on about the Shinra Space program, and how it was cancelled after Shera forced them to cancel the original planned liftoff in order to double-check one of the fuel tanks.
"...But now," Cid was saying when his tone indicated that he was about to wrap up the speech, "the President of the Hair Club for Men is coming here, here! It can only be because they're resuming funding for the Space Program!"
"The President?" inquired Trent.
"Yeah, not only is he the President of the Hair Club for Men--He's also a client!"
"He's coming here?"
"Yeah."
"SHIT!" exclaimed Trent.
"Watch your tongue," chided Cid.
Trent stuck his tongue out, and attempted to look at it, crossing his eyes in the process. It made him look quite silly.
"I see England, I see France," chanted Bare-It, "I see Trent's...um..."
"Uvula?" supplied Cid.
"I didn't even know guys had uvulas." said Bare-It.
"Hey, Bare-It," asked Aeris, "Where are England and France?"
"I don't know," admitted Bare-It, "It's just a bloody rhyme!"
"But it doesn't rhyme!"
"Oh, go to the Island Closest to Hell."
Cid invited the three questors back to his home. He burst through the door of his house.
"Shera!" he barked, "Make some goddamn tea!"
"Cideth Wudjalookitthatschlong!" snapped Shera.
Cid glanced at Bare-It. "Yes," he said, "It's very impressive."
"That's not what I meant," screamed Shera, "I meant watch your goddamn language!"
"You're not fooling anyone, you goddamn shrew! You just want to see my uvula!"
"I didn't even know guys had uvulas," remarked Shera.
An hour later, there was a break in the swearing, and Trent managed to outline the peril to the earth posed by Sephy Lee Roth and why they needed the pink airplane to pursue him to the ends of the earth.
"...You'd be welcome to come along, as well," concluded Trent.
"I don't know," said Cid, "It sounds kind of dangerous. I mean, around here, Shera nags me nigh unto death about my chain-smoking, but that's only nigh unto death. It sounds like you're walking into the jaws of death on a regular basis."
"Oh, death's all right once you get used to it," persuaded Trent.
"What, just ignore it, and it'll go away?" asked Cid incredulously.
"Oh, no, that would be a really bad idea. If you ignore it, it'll pull your guts out with an iron hook and feed them to you."
Cid fainted dead away.
The following day, Palmer of the Hair Club for Men's Comic Relief division waddled into the city, followed by President Cyril Rufus, his hair plugs whistling in the wind. Cid walked out to the town square to meet with Rufus, while Trent and his friends hid in Cid's back yard with the airplane. Thus it was that they foiled an insidious plot.
Well, OK, maybe insidious is the wrong word to use to describe the plot, per se, but it works really well with "foiled". The plot itself was merely sneaky. While Cid's attention was occupied with Rufus, Palmer snuck around back to steal the airplane. There he met Trent, Bare-It, and Aeris.
"Oh, fudge," swore Palmer, "I was hoping I wouldn't have to fight. I'm not the fighting sort, you know."
"Oh," inquired Aeris, "Just what is your function?"
"Didn't you hear the first time? I'm the comic relief. I religiously abstain from doing anything funny, and under no circumstances do I shamelessly plug the Author's website."
"You mean Bastardly Productions?"
"Yeah, that's the one, at http://gnomes.usuck.com/. I'm also not supposed to mention The Tower of Babble, a language site located at http://citizenbleys.virtualave.net/, perfect for students of Japanese!"
A glowing hand reached out of the sky and swatted Palmer on the ass.
"Sorry, Oh Mighty and God-Like Author Or Words To That Extent!" he called into the sky, "I forgot that I wasn't supposed to mention Bastardly Productions...damn!"
"Enough of this shit!" called Arsechimp from the cockpit, "Everybody get on board, we're getting out of here!"
Everybody piled onto the airplane, and it took off.
The plane circled, descended, and landed in Cid's yard again.
"Dammit, Palmer, not you!" exclaimed Trent and hurled him bodily off of the plane. He landed in an enormous pile of manure. The plane revved up again, and began taking off. They narrowly passed over Cid and Rufus's heads. Cid leaped up and caught one of the struts, and RAZOR guards began firing machine guns at the plane.
Climbing onto the wing of the plane, Cid crowed, "Alright! Go, Pink Panther!"
"Pink Panther?" inquired Trent.
"The name of the plane." explained Cid.
Trent leaned over the side and threw up.
"Airsick?" inquired Cid.
"Something like that," muttered Trent.
For the first time, Cid glanced at the cockpit. "Hey," he said, "I didn't know that dogs could operate aircraft!"
"They can't," replied Bare-It, puzzled.
"We can't?" asked Arsechimp.
"I could have swore I read that someplace," said Bare-It distantly.
The Pink Panther abruptly pitched forward and lurched into the heaving sea below.
Preview of Chapter 15:
"Can you ask your friend to stop pissing in our swimming pool?"
"Oh, it's not serious burning. I happen to enjoy burning. In fact, I'm the best burner in Cid's knights!"
"Isn't this what they do when they can't afford to hire enough actors?"
