Chapter 2. Hot Cars, hot food, hot damn!
Disclaimer: Don't own, never will & not in the next life either….Boooo!
Warning: mild language, gambling. Viewer discretion is advised.
It's been a while since I was able to do this chapter. I needed some inspiration. And boy did I got it! This chapter was partially inspired by a music video (Thunderkiss '65) I like the lyrics & the visuals.
Hot cars means one thing: pointless racing. Hot food: Spicy Mexican food.
Okay: I'll shut up & start the show.
Remember; Mewtwo's speeches are in Italic format. Thoughts are like "(this.)"
To all good things, there must come to an end, and today was the start of a three-week voyage of pure misery. The usual morning wake up routines were in the hands or shall I say, in the hairy palms of Donkey Kong. By this time of the day, 'monkey boy, or shall I say 'Magilla' gets on top of the roof, takes a deep breath & his way of waking everybody up: does a dance number rendition of "Beat it" by Michael Jackson, & of course: sings off-key. And we all know that primates can't sing a damn key without vocal training. The only one who could shut him up was Mewtwo, since he could manipulate his mind, and make him dance off out of the roof & onto the pool (AKA: the deep blue watery hole.) Half awake, The clone smasher went for his Altoids. Ignoring the screams of a falling DK as he careens to the pool, the clone still had some after-smell in his mouth from last night's fiasco….
(Flashback)
Closing his eyes, he brought his quivering lips to the drunk & sleepy koopa. Capt. & Gannon were egging him, camera phone in hand & chanting, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Doc had actually suffocated & passed out. (he's not dead) Inch by inch, centimeter & centimeter, all that Mewtwo could think of is how stupid he felt when he put his service as a slave for three whole weeks. It was time to reap the facts of humiliation. "(Okay. I got to take a deep breath, think something that won't horrify me………….. Nothing's working! I just got to get this over & then, straight to sleep. Yes, I'll just pretend that this is all a bad dream.)" Cringing as hard as he could, Mewtwo dove in.
Then his day had taken a turn for the worse.
Right when the clone was about to undergo a cruel fate worse than death, he heard the koopa's stomach gurgle in rage. The next thing he knew, he saw Bowser's mouth open wide, only to have been violently thrown up at his face.
All covered in vomit, this indeed was a Kodak moment. Caught in camera, both racer & gerudo laughed their asses off. Bowser rolled to his back & snoozed away like a baby. Mewtwo…was in hell. "I…hate…myself…" "BHWE AHAHAHAHAHA! Dude, you got koopa puke all over yourself."
"This is 10 times better than a kiss!" Tears of joy were in Gannondorf's eye, relishing the true rapture of someone else's misery.
"Okay, okay, phew! Take a bath, cuz I don't want to have a slave that smells like mouth crap. Hey, let's see who gets to own his ass next time he bets himself."
(End Flashback)
It had taken him six straight showers to rid the foul stench of mouth crap, especially from out of his mouth. Looking at the clock on his phone, he tried to get up, but for some odd reason: there was a large object on his arm. To his dismay, it was Samus. "Not. This. Again…Samus! Wake up!" This happens every once in a while. For reasons unknown (in which it will be explained in the next chapter) no matter how much security he puts up on his door, she manages to break in without any troubles. He doesn't even know why she keeps on repeating this pattern. After all, she has a cold hearted reputation. (Sometimes I wonder what is up with her…) you're in my room…again." Getting up, he picks her up, uses his powers to open the door & puts her out. "Mweh? Damn it Mewtwo! This is my room." Popping out of the narrow crevice of the doorway, he remarked. "Third door to the left: that's my room. You're room is the third door to the right." Before she could say another word, he had already shut the door. "Must I be the meat of an imbecile sandwich? Forget it." He looked around his only sanctuary from all the chaos that lies outside his room. Not much though, considering that the only possessions with him were just a ragged brown cloak (which acts as a blanket too.), a bulky shaped cell phone (Can you say '1997'?), a couple of un-translated literatures and the most important of all: his wedding ring on his finger. Not just a ring, the one ring. "(You…stupid ring! It's your fault that my life is never short of iniquitous & travail.)" Sadly to say, some speculated that since working around for two deity-like gloves with the I.Q of a rat's ass, it took a toll on his behavior. (I'd say about 14 percent.) "Alright…time to go & get me a screwdriver. And I ain't talking about no tool." Another habit that seems to preside to only inside the mansion. He's a drinker. Some speculate that his marriage has taken a toll on his habits. He just needs the drink to lessen the scrupulous pain of self-misery. (boy, talk about Emo.) In short, he feels like it. Walking past by the rooms & corridors, he made his way down the stairs. When he saw that Falcon was at the end of the flight of stairs.
"Gooooooood morning, slave."
"(Oh, no…the return of the cheapest smasher and fellow crash test dummy himself.) What do you want? It's… Two in the afternoon. And I need my wake me up cough medicine." Scratching his chin in amusement, Falcon chimed "I see that your 'mistress' left in a huff. She's not getting the much needed dose of the beast?" He knew what he was doing, torturing his little slave struggling to control his temper. As much as Mewtwo wanted to disembowel him, he knew that if he dared touch one single fragment on his body, there would be some sort of trigger effect that might occur. Falcon may be a bunghole, but he sure knows how to take precautions on his foes. In this case: his fellow smashers. "She keeps on forgetting that her room is on the opposite side. There's nothing going on between us. Never was & never will be. Besides the fact that I'm married, I have no interest on her. Now get to the point! What do you want?" The way that he spoke, proved that even a rebellious and highly dangerous pokemon, has a strong sense in monogamy.
"Alright, alright, I'll cut that out. Now, if you are not aware, today at Seven in the evening, is the biggest race of my life. As well as my most hated archrival, he will be there." The shine on his helmet gave Falcon the aura of an all-powerful deity. However, the same shine blinded Mewtwo's eyes. "Who, the DMV? Geico car insurance? The countless animals that you had ran over in the past two days? Oh wait, I remember: it's abste-"
"Enough of your foul & tainted besmirching. It's none other than Racer X. He was always cheating me out of the countless races in my career."
"(How the fuck does he know how to use 'besmirching' properly in a sentence?) What, the position to be the most obsolete ingrate of a racer? Get to the point." The gleam of Falcon's visors indicated that a devious plan was about to unfurled. "HO ho hooooo! Simple, all you have to do is fix the race. That way, even-" Mewtwo grew weary & snided, "Even you couldn't screw it up? Fine, whatever." The rumbling from Falcon's stomach also too, brought an even more heinous turn of events. "And do one more thing: bring me some of Paco's famous spicy burritos: I need to make a little 'spring cleaning' (cringe)." Right then, Mewtwo felt like he no longer wanted to eat or drink for a while, nor would he take granted a toilet bowl ever again. "Just before I reach to a whole new low, hand over the food money." A gloved hand was waved in front of him, motioning a stern no. "Nope, no money on me. I got car insurance to pay. You'll have to use the 'three finger discount'. Now, go forth & do my bidding! Mwa ahahaha-awchk! Damn my evil laughter. Meet me at the D.D. arena pit stop in 1 hour. My tummy needs the fuel for victory. Go now, shoo!" Out the door, Mewtwo had to embark into what is the most stupidest mission in his life: making a food run and vandalism on racing vehicles.
"(Dumb ass. He'd forgotten to tell me where the address is…I'll look it up in the phone book.)"
On his first assignment, the irate psychic clone had to resort to stealing hot & spicy food, or do something drastic to get the money to get the food to Mr. "I can't brake if my life depended on it." Making his way down the streets with his patented lone wanderer's cloak, Mewtwo had to endure being seen in public. There were the usual bunch of onlookers: crazed fanatics who needs help in world domination. Dogs that think he really is a cat. (he's not a cat. He is himself.) Pokemon trainers who think that they got what it takes to kick his ass. And for some strange reasons, fangirls. "(Thanks a lot, stupid 'Mewtwo Returns' DVD. You've ruined my life: now everybody knows that I was once so…ughh, 'KAWAII'…)"
(People seem to like cute things. He was the exception. Well: Him, me & Sephiroth, from Final Fantasy 7. Prove me wrong people. Prove me wrong.)
The rural part of town was not one to be taken lightly. For what lurks in the shadows were shitty one-shot characters from underprivileged games & animes. (You don't want to be mugged by the dog from 'Duck Hunt'.) Wandering around the town for about half an hour, he found his first objective. A rather small take-out shack, but with so many people eating on the tables next to the place. "(Let me guess: this is it…no body seems to be asking to be robbed. Nope! Nada. Ziltch. Iie. Nien…why am I talking to myself again? Oh yeah, that's right: I have no clue what so ever…)" Getting the nerve to go up to the stand, he walked up to the counter. Greeted by a geeky teen earning minimum wage, the moment of truth is at hand.
"Hola, cómo ¿puedo ayudarle?" ("Hello, how can I help you?")
Scratching his head, he tried to remember if he could speak Spanish. Then he remembered that he is Mewtwo: a psychic, & the master of mind reading.
Using his oh so powers, he dove inside the cashier's mind to learn the Spanish language, from grammar to pronunciation.
"Yo quedo a la orden… tres spicy burritos, Dos tacos de pescados: no cebollas y una extra large Piña Colada. Para ir, por favor. (It won't hurt if I get something for me to eat as well.)" The worker picked his nose, bringing out his finds of nazi gold & flicked it to the floor before writing down the order. "(You sick…un-sanitizing teenage punk!)" His hand was knocked out from the punk's forehead. "Mire usted, el gato pervertido: no me toca. En cuanto a su orden... Diez dólares y doce centavos. (Ten dollars and twelve cents.)" How he would relish on the possibility to knock the hell out of him, but Mewtwo had to control his temper & focus on the task. Looking around to see if there were an alternative way to pay for the food (In which he did not, he'll be glad to beat up the cashier up as if he were a piñata.)," he had happen to see by sheer luck 20 bucks on the floor, stuck by a piece of gum. "(Twenty bucks? It's a miracle! Now, I don't have to rob this place…or could I…naw. Next time though, if jerkwad here pisses me off again.)" Kneeling down, he went to pick up the money. But as fate would have it, (or should I say: biology) his stubby fingers gave him hell. "(You stupid piece of currency, you've just made a powerful enemy today…damn it. I always keep on forgetting: psychic power. Duh!)" A small swish from the movement of his hand, he brought the money away from the sticky clutches of the floor gum. Handing out the cash to the cashier, Mewtwo awaits his task to be done, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied tables. The teen decided to mess around by saying some profanity in Spanish. (In which I am not going to put them up here.) Sipping on his drink, his mind wandered about. Contemplating on the fabrics that insinuate the functions of life, all he could conclude is a two part question. "Do I really know the muffin man? And if so, does he truly live on Drury lane?"
(O-kayyyyyyyyy…I'll just speed this up for about 4 minutes later.)
"Señor, su la orden es lista." (Sir, your order is ready.)
Before making his way back, Mewtwo wanted to rid of himself some stress. With the use of a penny, he etched out a rather rude message on to the table, considering that his stubby fingers were giving him hell.
'Captain Falcon: a true case…of pixilated trash.'
Picking up the take out order, he made his way towards his new objective. Not long before he was to make his leave, he flicked the penny in his hand to the cheeky teen in the eye & gave him the finger. "Next time: don't piss me off." The cries of, "Dios mio, mi ojo! Mi ojo!" brought out a sinister chuckle from Mewtwo.
"This has got to be the worst fic that I have to go along with!" Food in hand & having insulted the author's creativity, Mewtwo chose to fly away: Delivering food that would make a toilet cry. Unfortunately, some people had mistaken him for a certain flying man in a cape that can also leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Almost an hour later, Mewtwo finally made it to his next destination: the D.D. Arena. Getting lost along the way over, his ego took a small blow. Proving that men are stupid, when it comes to asking for directions. And as usual, upon landing in the empty pit stop: he starts to bitch about his problems. "Why? Why, why, why….WHY? I could've just walked away & save myself from this. But Nooooooooooooooo. I had to be cocky and full of myself. And now…look at me! I'm here holding burritos that can pose as a level 3 biohazard, & now: I have to fix the race. I bet this is the work of the gods, in one big elaborate attempt to play cruel game of 'Can you top this'. I bet their saying, -Hey! Let's have him lose the game. Better yet, let's see if we can have him bet himself. Or, or: make him do the most obnoxious tasks & make him eat crap, for the sake that his psychotic wife won't whoop his ass around like a government mule.-" Bored out his wits, (which is a first) he dug into the food bag & proceeded to get his fish tacos. (Oh grow up! It's not a innuendo.)
Surveying the vast surroundings of the track while eating his snack, Mewtwo took the time to concoct a plan to go along with Falcon's scheme. Right out of the corner of his eye, he spies on a betting booth right near the grandstand seatings. It didn't took long for his mind to get into gears. "Two mile lap course. Semi-rectangular track….mid stubble asphalt. Hmmm…" Going over on his second taco, Mewtwo paced himself back & forth, using that head of his & began to plan for yet another get rich quick scheme.
Beep! Beeep!
A car horn snapped him out, making him drop his food. In came an odd-looking vehicle. The design had a futuristic look mixed with a 2000 Volkswagen Beetle exterior shell. Slowly, the machine came closer to him until it stop by a short 5 meters away. The driver's door opened up. Out came an ominous figure, a motorcycle helmet kept the identity a secret.
"Could this be…Racer X? I will have to find o-"
"That won't be necessary, since you know who I am…Mewtwo." The mysterious racer X removed the helmet. What Mewtwo now know, will bring an event of pure chaos.
"You're… Racer X?"
"Yes. I overheard that Falcon stooped a whole new low, just to beat me. However, I have a solution that could be beneficial to the both of us…"
§§§
Ten minutes later.
No sooner than after that incident, the entrance gate opened up to the public. In all, 20 racers participated. Including Falcon & Racer X. Handing over the bag, Mewtwo cringed at what was about to happen next. "Mmmmmmnnn. The specie spicier it goes in, the more lethal it comes out. Know what I mean?" Mewtwo knew it he meant. "Yes, though I'd wished that I didn't. Can I go now?" CF responded while mauling on his burrito. "dbpwah Aah! Phew bwaphht to wiged bthe bwath! Bor….bwi chan chall eyourh wife."
"Fine, fine: I'll get on it now. Just ex-nay on the ife-way."
"Oh, I forgot to mention it to you. I managed to round up the gang to watch me win this race, since I have a trump card. Also, there's a lot of moola going in my favor. In no time, we'll all be knee deep in the crisp notes of capitalism…that's cash. DON'T. Blow this."
"I know."
Four hours later.
Four hours had past by since assigned to sabotage the race & what did Mewtwo do? Sleeping next to a oil drum, like a lazy bastard. In a matter of minutes, the race was about to commence. The grandstands were packed with enthusiastic spectators. Even the smashers were excited to see this event. While the ladies were dragged in by force, most of the guys made sure that any questions were to answered in an oh so stereotypical male fashion. "That big shiny do-hickey is what we call a car. Car." Ness scanned the arena, looking to see if he could spot Mewtwo. "Can anybody spot Mewtwo? I heard that he was to be here."
"You mean Cap's trump card? He's sleeping next to an oil drum. The poker game last night is one for the record books. If you want pictures, it'll run you ten bucks per pic." Gannondorf still could not get that funny moment out of his mind.
Roy felt that he was extorting pics for money, like the paparazzi. "You suck, you dirty nosed gerudo!"
"Well at least people know who I am. Where's your game? I remember: Still in Japan."
'It's true." Link backed up his archrival. "We're more known throughout the world." Marth went in and aided his fellow Fire Emblem comrade & took the low road. "And when will the 'Twilight Princess' be out? 2000-infinity? Stop teasing us & get that damn game out to the public."
Arguments over what games should be cool & which needs some serious tuning ups. Every smasher against each other.
"Sonic rules! Nintendo's a sellout!"
Everybody who were arguing stop to see who had insulted their work corporation. It turned out to be Sonic the hedgehog. Mario could not sit back & let a blue punk degrade his home. "Oh yeah? Well at least we still make consoles! And what do you have? Shadow the hedgehog? You suck!" In a turn of event, mainly every bystander agreed & pelted Sonic with trash. Until he was knocked over the grandstand & fell twenty feet to the security cart, which took him to their dungeon- I mean detention center. Cheers came from the audiences who were glad that it was over. It seems that he got everyone to ventilate their anger onto him, thus calming the mood down to a mere 'Meh, whatever'.
Tossing & turning, Mewtwo was undergoing a nightmare. "ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz (Dreaming: Noooooooo! Not Devo! Nooooo. No more! No mas, no mas!)"
Falcon, who had came out from the porta-potty after dealing with the dire consequences of indulging in spicy burritos, lit a match inside just as spectator had gone in.
"Oh my god! This is how I'm gonna die: in the crapper?"
A simple scratch to his belly, Captain felt ten pound lighter. "Ahhh, nothing like losing a couple of pounds when it comes down to prepping up for a motor showdown. Hey slave!" Kicking Mewtwo in the ribs to wake him up, Falcon boasted on his vile little accomplishment. "Good to see you…doing whatever it is that I had told you earlier." Waking someone up by a swift kick to the side, would be considered signing your death warrant. With every fiber of his being, Mewtwo had to put off of maiming his so called master. Getting up, he rubbed on his side. "Just because you are in charge does not give you the right to senselessly kick another being."
Walking away to his racer, he just shrugged it off. In the process, tossed a headphone com unit. "Put on the com link. When it comes to beating my rival, I'm all serious. (Except for that one time in that strip joint a couple of hours ago.)" Donning it on, Mewtwo had to await for orders from the biggest fraud of a racer. But,…there was going to be a little surprise in store for the master. "(You may have been a dick today and for the next 21 days, but mock my words: you are going to suffer along with me! And I'll see to it that you don't stink up on any more electrical equipment. Geez, you could've killed someone with that sphincter of yours!)"
On cue, the unit had activated.
(Come in slave 1, this is Mr. Perfect. Do you hear me? Over.) Annoyed, he answered back. "Yes. What do you want? (You narcissistic censored.)"
(You didn't say over. Over.)
Rolling his eyes, he answered back. "Whatever, over."
(Remember: I win, I'm happy, we're all happy. I lose: your wife gets the news that you're gambling again. Got it? Over.)
"Ughh. Over.(Must he rely on cheap tactics to-it's like answering your own rhetorical question. Of course he will: he's an A-hole!)"
Giving an eerie chuckle, Falcon was revved up to exact upon revenge to the enigmatic and mysterious Racer X. The announcer gave a sound check.
"Check-check. Ahem….GENTLEMEN! START YOUR MORTORS…Oh yeah!"
"Sid…you need to stop it."
"Hey, these race car nuts need some real gumption. Ala nug!"
"Shut up & stick to the cards."
The riveting roars of many engines came into life, gearing up to start their perilous gauntlet for glory.
"On your mark, get set, A GO-GO"
Twenty vehicles have started the race. Only one will claim first place.
One hour later.
So far, three cars 'accidentally' had engine & steering problems. "Though I'd wished to set your chariot into the realm of Hades, I believe That honor should go to our mysterious racer X." Being all wordsy, he lived up to be a total angsty a-hole. Staring idly at the churro stand, Mewtwo felt the need for a quick snack. Due to his obligation, he couldn't leave his post. "I need some food. How am I- wait a sec." Raising his hand up, he focused on of the faster cars and mentally worn down the transmission. Car 19 was the unlucky target for now. "And Car 19 is out of the race, due to malfunctions." "There. Now…how am I going to get some of those churros…" His phone starts to ring from within his cloak. He had a hunch as to who it is that would call him… his wife. "(Awwww shit. Why couldn't she called me up at night like all normal-…never mind.)" Now ignoring his duties again to sabotage the derby, Mewtwo tried to converse with his wife down over the phone. It was a good thing that he found a stick to type-message her. "Honey, please. I. know. That. I. should. Have. Gone. To. Verizon™ & get. their. Package. deal, but- Clair? Out of minute! Damn stupid small phone…I hate you! You go to hell & DIE! You hear me? You go to hell & die, you stupid son of a bitch!" Before he could have gotten the chance to throw the confounded phone, he stepped onto something. He felt something muddy on his foot. It was poop. (EWWW!) Rather than doing his job, he tried to rid himself of the nasty'package' that would rendered him smelling like ….I guess crap. Kicking on the asphalt, shaking, & apparently, using his phone as a scraper.
Meanwhile in his fortieth lap, Falcon hummed the theme song to Speed Racer. While in the process, debates on a more personal matter. "(I bet I could become the next Speed Racer. Yeahhhh, & have a mischievous monkey as my sidekick…that'll be kick ass!)" So far, he was in the top five along with Racer X & three others. Down to the bare wires, they were in the last leg of the race. Only 10 laps to go.
Mewtwo, who had successfully ridden the poop off of his feet, was talking to some of the pit crew members. Obviously, the pit crew members seem to have the same irked feeling of anger, and needed some relief in the form of a good dirty joke. "...And the polar bear said, 'Honestly Frank. You don't come here for the hunting, do ya?'" Laughs erupted in a frenzy.
(Slave 1. Come in Slave 1. Mr. Perfect needs your help. Take out racer X. I repeat: Racer X must lose. Over.)
"Roger. Over. Listen guys, thanks for the water hose. I got to get some churros. Later.
Going through with the lasts laps, it became a neck to neck slot for first place. Mewtwo knew that now was time to act with the second plan. Going into his cloak, he pulled out a piece of paper. A malicious grin was plastered all over his face. "Well Falcon. You'll get your wish. But you did not say for how long." Mewtwo then left his post to head to the announcer's booth to deliver the special paper at the right moment. Before going in, he used his Shadow Ball & threw it over the arena. The ball exploded into an array similar to a fireworks display. In the drivers seat of racer X 'it' saw the signal. "Enjoy your moment in the spotlight, because it will come crashing down with an impact with the perfect trump that I have in store for you." Slowing down, Racer X had made it look like it was having some difficulty going any faster. Falcon was overjoyed to notice that racer X's vehicle had some troubles. He assumed that Mewtwo was responsible. "Yess! I can't believe it! I'm gonna win. Kaloo kalay, what a joyous day!" Crossing over the finishing line first, he fell for it.
The Winner to this years Shakey's 4.8 race, is Captain Falcon!
HEY! That's suppose to be my line!
Oh yeah? Let's see how long you would've gone without blurting out 'Oh Yeah!'
You're on…..
……
…….
…….
…….
……
…..Oh Yeah! Aww gawddamnit!
Cheers roared throughout the grandstands. This was a day that no one would ever forget. It was now Mewtwo's turn to initiate the end sequence. Opening up the door to the announcer's booth, he threw the paper at Sid. "Owww. What the- Helllo. What do we have here….Larry! get the P.A on!
The fruits of his labor had paid off: Captain Falcon had beaten Racer X. Leaping abound in pure bliss, he now know what's it feel like to beat your rival and hog all the glory. "Wa-hooooooo! ♪I won I won.♪ In your face, Racer X. IN YOUR FACE!"
We got some news!
"What the…?"
"!"
"!"
Many crowd members halted when they heard the biggest news in amateur vehicle racing.
Captain Falcon has been disqualified!
The winner is…Racer X!
An uproar of people shouting over for their new champion. And a good choice too. Halting on his victory dance, Falcon made the demand to know what was the stipulation behind this. "Wait a minute! How am I out?"
The announcers gave him the stone cold truth.
We found out that your car insurance is terminated due to reports of…not yielding to pedestrians: automatic disqualification. That means you were never legible… Oh Yeah
Can it Sid.
You can it, Larry.
His world had come crashing down straight to the depths of despair. Like the foolish Icarus who flew up to the wild blue yonder & fell to his demise, so too did Falcon had to underwent. Mewtwo came nonchalantly to his side. "Hey, I did as you told me, but you lost due to your own doings. That was all on you. Now, if you excuse me for a moment: I think I hear the churro stand callin'." As Mewtwo left a sad & angry washed up racer, Falcon went into a tantrum fit: on the floor, kicking, screaming and rolling around. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I was supposed to win. Me. ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME! MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Curse you! Mock my words: you'll pay for this Racer X. You hear me: YOU'LL PAY!"
"Falcon!"
Jumping up in fright from the shout of his name, Cap saw his fellow angry smashers. Samus was not there for some reason, but he did not had enough time to think about it. Each unfortunately, had the sense to bet on him to win. Shame on them, shame, shame…SHAME! Mario was the first to show his reaction, forming a fire ball on his palm. The evil gleam on his eyes showed malice. "Do you realize that one: you lost? Two: the whole gang & I had the heart to bet on you winning. And three, how stupid of you to forget the basic safety rules of driving: have insurance? Any last words before we turn you into a pinata?" While most were cracking their knuckles, some had shown an alternate method of punishment. (Jigglypuff had her trusty pen marker with the cap out. Ness made a noose with his yo-yo. And the dimensionally challenged Mr. Game & Watch donned on his 19th century scuba head gear. For some strange sense of style: it had skulls stickers & blood stains.) "Beep beep Bzzzt beep. Bo beep bzzzzt!" Translation: "Let's show him why you should always have insurance. Strap him in on the front of the grill!"
Mewtwo had came back from the betting booth to collect his winning cash. In all, he'd first went to the churro stand, only to buy two for $16.62. But in secrecy, the booth stand worker happened to be F-Zero super villain (& creator of 'Evil bastard. Com: The leading source of brand name how to guides to piss off the local protagonists & other malicious deeds. Not to mention one hell of a snack.): Black Shadow, who by the way, had bought the betting tickets on Racer X and: needed to pay off the tuition for Evil Super Villain university EVSU. Sometimes, it's hard to be a villain, especially on these hard times. Cashing in, he had scored the mother load of bettings. "(I'm sooooo an evil sick bastard, but I'm now a RICH, evil sick bastard. Thank you… Samus. Or should I say: Racer X.)" He saw his fellow smashers encircling around his soon to be ex-master. He hid his earnings & walked on by as if he had nothing to do with the whole scenario. "(At last: hope for me to be free from his confided rule. After the bloodbath is over, I can buy my freedom & enjoy the money. Allllllllll to myself. Boo ya Kahhhhhh!)"
"People, people. Calm down." While on his knees, Falcon came up with an ingenious solution that would otherwise be his last attempt at living. "I have a proposition for you. If you had not know, Mewtwo over here, has to do whatever I ask for the next three weeks." Many were taken by the fact that Mewtwo was employed to him.
This was not what Mewtwo had wanted. He didn't want to be a slave for one man, but now: more than a dozen. "Ohhh …hell no!"
In a impromptu of the unexpected, CF ripped off his driver clothing to reveal a game show tux piece & pointed at Mewtwo as if he was a game show prize. Somehow, the theme song to 'The price is Right' was played from the announcer speakers. "Yes folks! In exchange for my life, I will offer each & every one of you, ownership of Mewtwo's service. (void where prohibited, must be 18 or older.) Whether it be room cleaning, pranks, even getting out of jury duty, and…things that shall not be discussed in front of minors: he is the…whatever he is to do the job. With 100 percent satisfaction and obedience. And remember: if your not satisfied, you'll get your money back guarantee. All yours if you act now & spare my life."
All the smasher's made a huddle to discuss. There was lots of psst psst psst (comical whispers) going around. DK stuck his head out to get one good look at the 'product' of question.
Mewtwo had gotten down on the floor & banged his head onto the asphalt. "NO, NO, NOOOOOOO!"
A moment later, everyone broke out of the huddle. "Very well. Your life is sparred, for the moment. And as for you, Mewtwo: consider yourself owned."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Falcon, who always narrowly escapes certain death, had to say one thing that pushed Mewtwo's button. "Don't forget: if he doesn't comply, call his wife & say he's been gambling again. Either way, it's a win-win for us & not him!" Walking away, he thought that he got the last word.
Mewtwo heard that. In no time, everybody saw a berserk clone, giving a war cry & lunging at the moronic runner up racer.
"DIE!"
A/N:Still waiting for that new Zelda game. First, it was November, then March. Now in November again. Stop teasing us & get that game out to the public!
Here's the list in no particular order. Let see what dastardly deeds our clone here will have to undertake.
Peach: jury duty
Jigglypuff?
Bowser: Fight club
Gannondorf?
Marth & Roy: bodyguard (protection from the fan girls)
Doc Mario: medical supplies (involves Umbrella Corp, zombies & a special guest star.))
Mario Bros?
DK, Yoshi & Kirby?
Mr. G&W: machine repairs (think the near ending to Terminator 3)
Link?
Zelda?
Y. Link, Ness?
Nana & Popo: the zoo
Pikachu, & Pichu: mallrats (parody to Jay & Silent Bob. XD)
Fox & Falco: fox & duck hunts (Protest rallies)
Samus?
Question marks indicates that I don't know what to do. Leave a suggestion if you have an idea.
As of now, I need to find some names for cameo appearances on the next couple of chapters. So expect to wait longer for the next update.
Coming up next: Chapter 3: Terrible Lie (first up: Peach & she needs an alternate for jury duty. Can you say "10 to 15 years?")