A few nights after updating: Wow, we're writing again really soon after an update! Is this the dawn of a new era of putting out new chapters on time?
…monkeys are funny.
Who even knows how long later: …bloo.
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MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 0:08
Snake Plissken had finally managed to escape with Mort after spending much time wandering around and being captured and made to compete in death sports.
"Who are you?" asked Mort.
"Shut up," snapped Snake, smashing 343 Guilty Spark over the head repeatedly with a stick.
Wait, does he have a head? He's more of an oval than anything else.
"I object most strongly to this, Reclaimer!" whirred 343 Guilty Spark.
"Shut up and teleport us back!" growled Snake.
"I am under specific instructions not to let you return without the warthog," reprimanded the robot primly.
"Warthog?" asked Mort. "Aww, crap."
"Looks more like a puma to me," grumbled Snake, tearing away the bushes he had hidden it under. "There, we have the puma. Now can we hurry up?"
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MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 0:03
The warthog popped out of thin air thirty feet above the ground in front of Mort's cabin. It soon realized that it was out of place, and proceeded to fall and get stuck in a tree. Mort and Snake were thrown out of it on impact, and arrived on the ground shortly thereafter.
Snake grabbed Mort by the left leg and dragged him into the cabin, ignoring his extremely loud protests against such an action. Guilty Spark, meanwhile, flew off into the sky and disappeared into the distance.
"Here!" shouted Snake, throwing Mort onto the couch. "Give me the antidote!"
"What antidote?" asked a bemused Spoofmaster, turning from her work at the computer.
"Oh, that's bullshit!" yelled Snake. "They already did that in Escape from LA!"
"Fine!" huffed Spoofmaster. "Here's your flippin' antidote." She tossed him a cookie, which he gobbled up greedily.
"There wasn't really any antidote in that, was there?" asked MysticButtCrystal.
"No," admitted Spoofmaster quietly, "but it'll make him feel better."
At this point, Snake no longer really felt like killing anyone, so he just threw an ashtray at MysticButtCrystal's head before stalking out the door.
"Well, now that that's over," Spoofmaster rubbed her hands gleefully, "Mort can start cooking us dinner."
Mort gave no reaction.
"Ohhh…" groaned Spoofmaster, running over to the couch and discovering that "Mort" was really just an inflatable clown with a stupid hat taped on its head and "mart" written on its chest with Magic Marker. "Crap!"
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Snake and Mort walked through the woods.
"Thanks for not handing me over to them," said Mort. "But what is it you really want me for?"
"Shit, I don't know," sighed Snake, slumping his shoulders. "Just get the hell away from me, you creepy little freak."
"Aww," sighed Mort, watching Snake leave.
Having nowhere else to go, and realizing that they would just keep sending people after him, Mort walked dejectedly back to his cabin, where he found MysticButtCrystal and Spoofmaster chucking rocks at the warthog to try to knock it out of the tree.
"Careful!" shouted MysticButtCrystal when one of Spoofmaster's rocks shattered the windshield, despite how he'd knocked off a hubcap just a moment earlier.
"I thought that thing was invincible," commented Mort, looking up at it.
"Not since Halo 2 came out," grumbled MysticButtCrystal. "Oh, you're back?"
Mort just went inside the cabin and shut the door. He heard crashing sounds and some screams a few seconds later.
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"We are gathered here today to bury Theodred," said some guy who was in charge of burying things. He had buried many things in his lifetime—treasure, sandwiches, that one brown thing someone found in the trash that couldn't be identified (it may have been a sandwich, but he preferred to think that it wasn't so his resume would be longer)—you name it, he had buried it.
Gandalf farted loudly. He farted so much, in fact, that he knocked over Theoden, who had been standing next to him.
"I say!" said Gandalf, "I farted!"
The two of them burst out laughing. Theoden hopped to his feet and gave a fart in response.
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"That isn't funny," commented Mort, leaning over Spoofmaster's shoulder with his hands full of Doritos and Mountain Dew. "You're just catering to the lowest common denominator. Besides, it's just a ripoff of Terrence and Phillip."
"Fine!" frowned Spoofmaster, shoving her chair back to give him better access to the keyboard. "You write a funeral scene that's funny!"
Mort set his Mountain Dew down next to MysticButtCrystal, who shied away from it, disgusted, and began to write.
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As Theodred's body was interred, everyone suddenly began to vomit. The burying-job-guy vomited all over his shirt, and Theoden vomited, and Gandalf vomited, and Don Quixote and his horse vomited into the grave. It was funny that Don Quixote was there because he was a Don like a mafia Don. Hahaha. So, everyone vomited all over each other, and this caused more vomiting. The root of the vomit cycle was a burn victim who was gumming pieces of an orange. He watched on as everyone around him vomited, but failed to vomit himself.
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The two authors stared at what Mort had written for a moment, then burst out laughing and pointed at him quite rudely.
"What!" snapped Mort.
"You just totally ripped off Mafia," laughed MysticButtCrystal.
"What's that?" asked Mort innocently.
"Oh, don't play dumb!" yelled MysticButtCrystal. "I've seen it, like, twenty times! I know a Mafia! ripoff when I see it!"
"Yeah," chipped in Spoofmaster. "And you didn't even do it well. You had to explain why a joke was funny, and you used the same verb ten times in one paragraph!"
"I thought you were supposed to be a professional writer, too," scoffed MysticButtCrystal.
"Not really," disagreed Mort. "What I'm really supposed to be is an avatar of Stephen King, which would just make me some scruffy guy who lives off in the woods and writes weird shit because I was molested as a child. That doesn't necessarily make me a real author."
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"…You should attack Isengard," commented Gandalf to Theoden after the funeral.
"I don't want to," replied Theoden. "My military is missing out in a field somewhere. We would get slaughtered, and there would be nothing left of us but a bunch of guys wandering around aimlessly and yelling the word 'horse' over and over very loudly."
"What if I got them back?" asked Gandalf.
"Even if you could find them, now that I'm no longer under the control of his agent, Saruman will no doubt launch a full scale attack on us before we can assemble anything even close to a good defense. No, we will go to Helm's Deep. If they come after us there, we can just drop rocks on their heads or something."
"That won't work," argued Gandalf. "All the orcs will just stand in front of your fortress and wait for you to starve to death."
"Well, then what the hell do you propose?" asked Theoden.
"I'll go get Eomer while you go to Helm's Deep," replied Gandalf.
"What'll you do if you can't find him?"
"I think you should be more worried about what you'll do if that happens," warned Gandalf. Then he hopped on Shadowfax (still a stupid name for a horse) who vomited and then ran off into the distance.
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"Ihihihi'm pihihihihihihihihissed!" whinnied Brego, rearing up and trying to get away from the Rohirrim holding his halter. Actually, he didn't say that. Peanut butter is becoming the new skulls.
Speaking of skulls, there were no skulls present! How could there be a scene without skulls? What a depressing and terrible sight! No skullish light shone on this darkened stable! The place entirely lacked the merry clacking of skulltacular skulls. The lack of skulls was antiskulleri—
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Mort paused on his way to his room and slapped Spoofmaster up the back of the head.
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ANYWAY, Brego was all upset and psychotic.
Aragorn walked into the stable, planted his feet wide apart, and bellowed, "Leggo my Brego!"
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Mort paused on his way back out of his room and slapped Spoofmaster up the back of the head once more.
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So anyway, Aragorn went in and grabbed Brego's halter. He pulled the horse's head down near his face, and whispered some Elvish words in its ear.
"I'm a horse whisperer!" declared Aragorn loudly and proudly, despite the fact that his mouth was still within inches of Brego's ear.
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MysticButtCrystal leaned forward and slapped Spoofmaster up the back of the head.
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"What did you say to him?" asked Eowyn curiously when Brego quickly calmed down.
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"Shouldn't she say it furiously?" asked MysticButtCrystal. "You know, because she's furious, like Riddick."
"…What!" asked Spoofmaster.
"Haven't you seen the thing she did with the big knife and the Nazgul in the third movie? She's a total ripoff of Riddick, a completely unoriginal character!"
Mort stormed out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and grabbed MysticButtCrystal by the throat. Spoofmaster grabbed him too, and together they threw him out of the "secret" (in other words, obvious and not at all clandestine and placed oddly close to the loft floor) window. He landed in the corn patch, crushing several plants.
"Oh no!" shouted Mort, grabbing his shovel and running out the door. Spoofmaster could hear a bunch of yelling and the sound of a shovel colliding with various objects. She looked out the clandestine aperture and saw MysticButtCrystal dodging rapid shovel attacks by Mort. She shrugged and turned back to the computer.
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"Uhmm…I told him to calm down and that nothing bad was going to happen to him," lied Aragorn. He had really told the horse that if it didn't calm down, he would put it out to stud—to gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay stud in a slash with Mr. Ed and Black Beauty.
Beta Reader's note: heh, a horse slash. …Isn't Black Beauty a girl?
Authors' note: No, no he is not. He just happens to have a gaaaaaaay name.
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Spoofmaster flinched in anticipation of a blow that didn't come, then went back to writing.
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"You speak Elvish?" asked Eowyn. "There aren't many men who can."
"Ah…yes," replied Aragorn. "I was raised in Rivendhell—I mean, Rivendell."
"Really?" wondered Eowyn. "That's really weird...but sexy."
Aragorn quirked an eyebrow at her, and left quickly.
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We apologize for this chapter.