MYSTERIOUS MYSTERIES!!!1
Chapter 1: Something Smells Suspicious
DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I do not own Tenchi Muyo or any of its characters. If I did, the series would definitely be... stranger...
Ryoko tiptoed softly down the cold, splintered steps of the Masaki household stairway. A cockroach skittered across her feet (ese?). "Not now, Julio," she whispered, "I'm getting us a midnight snack. Now be quiet!" She put an index finger taught against her mouth, her eyes wide in aggravation. Creeeeeak went the floorboards as she stepped, avoiding the strangely placed rusty nails that always seemed to appear whenever she was trying to sneak through the house at night. How inconvenient.
She pulled her nightcap tighter over her messy, sapphire tufts of cowlicked hair as she made her way through the kitchen doorway. She placed a toe, then a foot, and eventually her whole body into the room and reached for the lonely refrigerator and an iron club.
"Grrrr," growled the fridge. She swiped the club over its handle to temporarily incapacitate it so she could ingest some of its sweet entrails. She placed her shaking fingers onto the cold, metal handle and opened...
"KYAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"
Out leapt a white person in a black mask. How ironic.
Morning.
"Has anyone seen Ryoko?"
Tenchi stuck his hand in the cookie jar to make sure she wasn't trying to run away from him. "We were supposed to make macaroni picture frames today!" And only then did he realize...
His brain had exploded five minutes ago.
"Oh my god I am dead."
And with that, his body started blinking until he disappeared.
"0MG GUY$!!!1" screamed Kiyone, "3NCH! JU$ D!3D!!!!!111"
In came Washuu, an arrogant smile on her childlike face... soft as a baby's bum... just as Ayeka liked to picture it.
"It's a good thing," she squeaked, "that I have a pre-prepared Tenchi-Bot™... which I DON'T use as my robot sex slave... or my little robot maid which I dress up in pretty little assless maid dresses... or my personal computer used specially for porn surfing... or my own illegal crack smuggler to get me drugs across the border from Mexico. Nope, just for special occasions like this."
Everyone seemed to ignore the enormous puddle of sweat amassing at her feet. Or urine. Or menstrual blood. Or liquid feces. Or someone else's liquid feces.
"It's orange juice," she burped.
"What?" Still, no one noticed.
"Never mind."
"WHAT MUST I DO TO MAKE THIS HOU – HOT! WET! ANAL! – SEHOLD MORE PRODUCTIVE. SHALL I COOK. SHALL I CLEAN. SHALL I RID THE HOUSE OF ILLEGAL ALIENS AND PERVERTED STALKERS."
Noboyuki scuttled away from his close vigil in the corner, up into the dark, damp recesses of his lair – which so coincidentally stank with the odor of semen and vomit. "He's on to me."
Back downstairs, the others were discussing other matters.
"Come to think of it," mumbled Mihoshi, "I could have sworn I heard the refrigerator growling again last night."
"! mu$ h4v3 833n j00r !m4g!n4!0n 4g4!n. 0n1y 3h t04$3r gr0w1$."
"No, that was definitely a growl of chilled leftovers."