A/N: We put this chappie on 'cause we were bored, and well, we didn't really let you get a good taste of our characters in the first one. Enjoy! (See disclaimer at end of chapter).

Chapter 2: More Mayhem

Suddenly something came out of the swirling orange mist...

Ahugely muscled teen with a mop of brown hair and a sword strapped to his back flew out, landing with an ungainly thud on the cold cement. He seemed to be wearing a robe of animal skins. He picked himself up and brushed his robe off, before looking up and giving a huge jump of surprise.

"Where am I?" he shrieked, leaping backward and stumbling. He sprawled on the floor for a second time.

"Dave, you great oaf, get up!" a female-sounding voice screeched from beneath him. The sword, whome appeared to be alive, was yelling. Dave got up.

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled.

"DAVE THE BARBARIAN?" Jo and Cee both screamed, their multi-coloured eyes practically bugging out of their heads.

"Who?" Leo asked, confused.

"WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?" Cee screeched, quite beside herself. Jo shook her shoulder.

"Snap out of it!" she commanded. "We just need to find some way of –"

Suddenly there was a bang and a shiny black piano slid out of the orange mist and fell on top of Dave, with a striking of keys, squashing him beneath it. A muffled "Bajabbers!" was heard before all was silent.

"Well, that's one way to fix it," Cee said.

"What is that thing?" George asked hesitently, pointing at the ornage mist. "That was the thing that dropped us here."

"Uh oh," Jo groaned.

"That's a plothole," Cee explained in a hushed voice. "Whenever something in a story doesn't make sense, a plothole appears. It sucks stuff out of dimensions and sticks 'em into other dimensions. They're the worst thing in the whole Universe." She gave a shudder.

"But, if these plotholes keep popping up, why are there any good stories?" Mikey frowned.

"Because Author's write them," Jo replied. "Author's are usually really good with plots, but occasionally things go wrong."

"Like now," Raph snarled.

"Yeah, who is writing this stupid story?" Leo demanded, glaring at the ceiling.

"WE ARE!" two enormously loud voices bellowed. The inhabitance of the room cowered.

"Who – who are you?" Mikey croaked.

"WE ARE THE AUTHOR'S!" the voices shouted. A fork of lighning hit the TVs and they disintegrated instantly. Mikey squeaked.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Cee yelled. "You're not Author's! You're FanFiction Author's! You can't hurt us!"

"Yeah, whatever," one of the voices sniffed, abandonning the loud voice. "We can still wreak havoc!"

An alarm sounded.

"ACK! The cookies are gonna burn!" the other voice yelled. Indeed, the scent of charred chocolate-chip cookies drifted downwards, along with a plume of grey smoke. "Oi, get over here!"

"Uh, gotta run, duty calls," the first voice said. There was a noise like someone hanging up a telephone and all was silent.

"Okay, we have to get him – " Cee pointed at the piano that was obscuring Dave, "– and them –" she jabbed a finger at Fred and George, "– outta here. Let's try the Quick-Flick-Away spell."

Jo pulled a small drawstring bag out of nowhere and took out a pinch of violently pink powder. She flicked it over Fred, George, and the quivering piano. There was a second where everyone held their breath; then the twins began to sprout long greenish locks of hair all over their faces. The piano now looked like a fuzzy lime-green sofa.

"That's the Insta-Hair Powder!" Cee cried. Jo snapped her fingers and a pair of pruning shears appeared, and began cutting all the horrid green hair off, until the twins were left with only a fine, greenish stubble.

"Okay, we need another plan," Jo decided. "We could try the Reverse-Portal Spell –"

"Maybe we should just kill 'em off," Cee suggested, eyeing the twins evilly.

"Nah, their universe'd pro'bly explode," Jo shook her head. "It'd be so much simpler, though…"

Suddenly a huge bang was heard and the plothole began to shake. It convulsed and, with a voilent popping sound, and the mist expelled a bundle of white-and-blue petticoats and curly blonde hair. A ceramic bowl half-full of steaming porridge landed next to her, and a spoon, and sugar-dish clattered down a little way off.

"Goldilocks." Cee said faintly. "Goldilocks. We are so history."

Goldilocks got up and took one look at the faces around her and let off a blood-curdling shriek, lept backward, and tripped, like Dave, on her clothes. She tumbled to the floor.

"Who the shell are you?" Raph snarled, levelling his sai with the girl's throat.

"Don't you point your forks at me!" the girl squeaked, huge blue eyes wide with fright.

"They ain't forks! They're sais!"

"Okay, okay, we have to get them all out of here!" Jo quickly intervened. "Maybe the Spleen-Expelling Jinx –?"

The door to the lair opened, and in walked Leatherhead, a computer cercuit in one giant forepaw, and a book in the other. His eyes ranged over the shocked, confused faces in front of him, four of which were human.

But the plothole once more began to shudder and quake. It gave what sounded like a hacking cough, and out shot –

"Crikey! He's a beauty!" Steve the Crocodile Hunter cried as soon as he layed eyes on Leatherhead. "C'mere, fella!"

"Who is this?" Leatherhead asked as Steve dropped onto his belly and began to crawl toward him.

"HA!" Steve yelled, leaping on the startled croc-mutant.

"Steve the Crocodile Hunter." Jo said to no one in particular. "Oh. My. God."

"We have a situation!" screamed Cee, who seemed to be going crazy with stress. "We must've broken at least fifty rules! WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO!"

"Cee, chill," Jo said calmly. "All we need to do is reverse the plothole. Simple."

She chanted some words and pointed at the plothole. The spell shot right through it and hit Klunk; the kitten turned into a tiger.

"Okay, that's not the right spell," Cee said, as Mikey uttered a "Meep!" and hid behind Leo at the sight of his transformed pet. Klunk, whome had not noticed a change, yawned and licked his newly striped chest fur.

Jo tried another spell; it shot right through the plothole once more, and turned Steve, who had been grappling with Leatherhead, into a coil of rope, which rose up and began to sway like a snake charmer's rattlesnake.

"Okay dokay," Jo said.

"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" Cee shouted, near to hysterics now. She began firing off random spells; one hit the plothole. It began to boil and shake, and finally spewed a rusty sword, a pile of old books, a bicycle, a giraffe, a corner of a brick wall, and a large quantity of sea water at the startled occupants of the room.

"We're in way over our heads," Jo announced, wringing out the corner of her shirt.

"That's the understatement of the year!" Mikey said, pulling seaweed off Klunk's head. His brothers were now eyeing Jo and Cee with grim intentions.

"Hey wait a minute – Don't get any ideas! If you hurt us, everything'll just get worse!" Jo warned them.

"Look, maybe we can just leave?" Cee suggested half-heartedly. "Let them fix it –"

"Why are you in charge, anyway?" Leo asked conversationally.

"The ones who were in our place disappeared," Cee explained. "So the job was dumped on us."

"We have no idea what to do, or how to work the magic properly," Jo smiled.

"Oh, great," Leo muttered, trying to discourage the giraffe from chewing his bandanna tails.

There was a scream; Klunk, it seemed, had eaten Goldilocks's porridge. The little girl was now screaming and bawling like a toddler.

"Urgh, shut up," Cee snapped, flicking her wrist, and filling the empty bowl with maggots. The girl screamed louder, and lobbed the bowl into the wall. The maggots turned into butterflys and flew away.

"Here, eat this," Fred said kindly, offering a small, red sweet to the child.

"Fred, no!" George started, but it was too late; Goldilocks snatched the sweet from Fred and stuffed it greedily into her mouth. She sucked for a moment in obvious pleasure, then stopped; she retched; then a long, slimy, reddish thing erupted from her mouth.

"You gave her Ton-Tongue Toffee!" George said in exasperation.

"Oops," Fred said.

Jo scrunched up her eyes and pointed at Goldilocks; the little girl turned into a small white mouse, its tiny, red tongue still lolling limply on the floor.

"Nice," George said. Suddenly Klunk, whome had not had enough to fill his large stomach, swooped down and snatched the mouse daintily from the floor, swallowing it whole. He licked his lips and sat down to groom himself.

"Good, one character less," Cee said decisively.

Fred and George gulped in unison.

The plothole shuddered again. This time out shot a – filing cabinet.

"Phew," Jo sighed.

The plothole gave a giant convulsing shudder and expelled the Pillsbury Dough-Boy.

Silence reigned.

Pillsbury Dough-Boy giggled before skipping off to the kitchen.

"Let him go," Cee said. "I'm sure he'll amuse himself."

There was a loud coughing noise and a large lizard with wings landed clumsily before them.

"Kit?" Cee screeched, startling the young dragon. She raised her head and whistled indignantly, turning a pinkish hue.

Then the plothole began its biggest quake yet. Out flew several different characters from various dimensions. Nathanial, aka John Mandrake, the genie from Aladdin (complete with lamp), an alien-like creature with huge, orblike eyes, a HP printer, a coconut tree, an MP3 player, a dingy and, finally, a caped figure with double 'W's emblazened on his chest.

"I am – WENROG THE WUNDERFUL! – with a 'u'!" the figure cried to the perplexed indeviduals in front of him.

Jo and Cee stared at him.

"I don't know him," Jo muttered to Cee.

"You don't know me?" the figure asked in indignation.

"Maybe you're a sidekick," Cee shrugged.

"I most certainly am not!" Wenrog yelled.

"Then maybe you're a pedestrian-wannabe," Jo said thoughtfully. "Or an innocent bystander."

"I save innocent bystanders!" Wenrog snapped. He lept and stood atop the green piano. "Let all those evil perish!"

"The guy's got some good lines," Mikey said fairly.

"Perhaps you could be my sidekick?" Wenrog asked graciously.

"Ooh, yeah!" Mikey squealed. "Wenrog the Wonderful –"

"Wunderful," Wenrog corrected.

"Uh, yeah, Wunderful," Mikey hastily agreed. "And his faithful sidekick, the Turtle Titan!"

"It'll do," Wenrog said dismissively. "Let us continue in our purge of all things evil!"

"The dude's got issues," Cee stated.

"You know, I know a good therapist, just down the street," Jo told him.

"I don't need a therapist!" Wenrog shouted.

"Not for you, for me. If I listen to too much more of this, I'll implode," Jo said calmly.

She suddenly turned to Cee.

"You know, some people are like Slinkies; not very useful, but you can't help but smile when you see one tumble down the stairs."

Wenrog was silent.

"True," Cee answered. "Very true."

The plothole sneezed several tmes in rapid succesion. Out popped what appeared to be a large sponge with a pair of brown pants on and squeaky black shoes. It blinked and said,

"Where am I?"

"SpongeBob?" Wenrog squealed. "I'm your biggest fan!"

The sponge blinked.

Suddenly a red sports car zoomed haphazardly from the porthole, running over the unfourtuante sponge, squashing him into the floor. The car crashed into the wall, leaving a smoking dent.

"There are two kinds of pedestrians," Jo stated solemnly. "The quick, and the dead. This is a good example of the latter."

"We have to clean this up," Cee said. She pointed at the plothole; unfourtunately, however, at that exact same moment, a mirror came flying out of it, and the spell glanced off it, hitting the filing cabinet, which, so far, had been forgotten. It turned into a flock of geese, which squawked and scattered in all directions. Klunk, eyeing them hungrily, pounced on one. It shrieked and flew off, right back into the plothole. Nothing happened.

"Why didn't we think of that?" Jo asked, smacking herself on the forehead. "We can just toss everything back in there!"

But then, the whole room began to quake. Not just the plothole. The entire room shuddered, and instead of spitting an object out, they were all sucked into the plothole, leaving the lair empty and bare of all its occupants.

"AAAHHHHHHH!"

Thump.

They had landed on –

We interrupt this programme to deliver an important message.

(Commertial Break)

-a tropical island. At their backs the ocean roared, and ahead a lushious green forest lay. Howler monkeys screeched, and seabirds wheeled in the sky.

"Nice," Jo said, hands on hips.

A/N: Okay, here we go...

Disclaimer: We do not own the Crocodile Hunter, the Pillsbury Dough-Boy, Nathanial, Goldilocks, Dave the Barbarian, Spongebob, Fred & George Weasley, TMNT, the genie from Aladdin, Slinkies, Kit, the HP company, or Wenrog the Wunderful. (pant pant). Wenrog the Wunderful is property of fanfiction author virtual wenrog. Jo and Cee, however, are ours.

DR: Review! Flames will be used to burn our enemies! (evil laughter)

CPQ: (looks worried).