Silly Songs With Marky

(( Veggie Tales songs, essentially, with a Rent twist. X3

Disclaimer: I own a cucumber, and a couple of tomatos, some onions and asparagus, but none of them talk. So... Apparently, I don't own Veggie Tales. As for Rent, well... I have a copy of the movie. Does that count...?

Kudos to Heartcore and Sagified Fire for guessing which song I'd be using next!))

Song 2 – "Dance of the Cucumber"

Cucumber.

That's what Mimi had nick-named Roger. It was her pet name for him. For the life of him, Mark just could not figure out why. And, upon reflection, Mark was fairly certain he probably didn't want to know the roots of this particular nickname. However, it did interest him to know that Mimi frequently used pepino, the Spanish term for the vegetable-fruit that was the cucumber, when she was talking with Roger, instead.

That said, Mark wasn't so interested in that fact that he made a habit of hanging around much while the pair of them were having… cuddly moments. Like they were having, now, curled together on the couch and talking softly with each other, laughing and being all… lovey-dovey. It was disgustingly sweet, in Mark's opinion.

Nonetheless, he lived in this apartment, too. Ergo, as he was bored, Mark refused to be utterly ignored So, with his standard tact and grace, Mark wandered over and plopped onto one of the chairs with a loud, well, plopping-noise. He went ignored.

So, with a definitive adjustment of his glasses, Mark cleared his throat and spoke: "So… Mimi," he began, and Roger and Mimi, with loud sighs, drew away from each other a little to look over at Mark.

"Yes, Mark?" she asked, politely enough, but with no particular eagerness.

"You speak Spanish, right?"

"Si."

"So… d'you know any Spanish ballads or songs or something?"

Mimi laughed. "I used to," she admitted. "But I've forgotten most of them."

"I know one or two," interjected Roger.

Both Mimi and Mark looked at him in surprise, and Mimi inquired, "Really?"

"Yeah," said Roger. "What? I'm not lying! I really do!"

"Prove it," said Mark, cranking his camera and adjusting the lens a bit. "And Mimi? Er… mind translating?"

"Not at all," said Mimi, slipping off of Roger's lap and prodding him to stand up.

With a weary sigh, Roger rose. "Fine. Let me get my guitar."

Roger then disappeared into his 'room' (a term used in the loosest of senses – his and Mark's 'rooms' were little more than corner spaces separated from the main room by very thin walls and self-made doors/screens) to acquire the instrument. Then, he perched upon the arm of one of the chairs and tuned the instrument. Finally, he gave a slight bow to his eager audience, and Roger began strumming the music.

With a wink at Mimi, Roger began: "Miren al pepino."

Mimi, as he ended the 'o' of pepino, translated, "Watch the cucumber." But, of course, she giggled fiercely as she did this.

Mark merely watched, staring through his camera at Roger.

The musician continued, "Miren como se mueve."

Mimi translated, "See how he moves."

Roger danced a little bit as he played, swaying, though he was unable to do much more. "Como un leon."

"Like a lion."

"Trans un raton!" Roger jumped forward, a bit, at this, as though he were pouncing.

"Chasing a mouse."

As Mark rolled his eyes, Roger merely grinned and continued, "Miren al pepino."

"Watch the cucumber."

"Que saves movimientos."

"Oh, how smooth his motion."

"Tan como mantequilla…"

"Like butter…?"

"En un chango pelon."

At this juncture, Mimi gave Roger a slightly disturbed look as she giggled and stammered out, "On a… uh… bald monkey."

Mark snorted, and he accidentally jiggled his camera as he laughed at Roger's simile. Roger just continued to grin his silly grin, and he kept on playing.

"Miren al pepino."

"Watch the cucumber, who, I might add, is insane…"

"Los vegetables." Roger indicated, with a sweeping motion, the room at large, as well as Mark and Mimi.

"The vegetables… all of them?" Mini looked faintly puzzled.

"Envidian a su amigo."

"Envy their friend…"

Mark, catching on to what Roger meant, interrupted at this moment: "Wait a minute, we're not vegetables."

"Yes you are, Mr. Tomato," said Roger. "Now shut up and let me finish."

"Sorry."

"You should be," Roger informed his best friend. Then, the musician cleared his throat and began this segment again: "Miren al pepino."

"Watch the silly cucumber," said Mimi.

"Los vegetables."

"All the veggies."

"Envidian a su amigo."

"Envy their friend."

"Como el quieren bailar."

"Wishing to dance as he."

"Pepino bailarin," sang Roger, dancing as best he could whilest holding and balancing a guitar. "Pepino bailarin. Papino bailarin. Baila, baila, yeah!"

"Dancing cucumber… dance, dance, yeah."

"Miren al tomate," said Roger, eyes glittering evilly as he looked to Mark with a smirk.

"Look at the tomato." Mimi looked from Roger to Mark, eager to hear what Roger might say of Mark.

"¿No es triste?"

"Isn't it sad?" Mimi giggled as Mark frowned.

"El no puede bailar," said Roger with an air of great authority and great pity.

"He… oh, that's mean, Roger! He can't dance," said Mimi, giggling still.

"Pobre tomate," declared Roger, shaking his head.

"Poor tomato."

"El deseria poder bailar." Roger was still grinning fiendishly.

"He wishes he could dance…"

"Como el pepino."

"Like the cucumber."

"Libre y suavemente."

"Free and smooth – like the butter on a bald monkey, apparently," said Mimi, trying very hard to stifle her laughter as she watched Mark glowering at his friend and fingering a pillow, dangerously.

"Pero el no puede danzar," said Roger, barely holding back laughter of his own as he strummed the chords and flourishes required by the music.

"But he can't," Mimi began, but broke off as a pillow zoomed past her head and hit Roger square in the face.

"What do you mean I can't dance?" Mark demanded, having set his camera aside (though it was still rolling) and grabbing another pillow. "You know full well I can dance! Remember last Christmas? Didn't you see me dancing last Christmas?"

Mark looked to Mimi. "You remember last Christmas, don't you?"

"No comprendo," said Mimi between fits of giggles.

Roger, meanwhile, with a very smug expression on his face, threw the pillow right back at Mark, who caught it, and then the musician said, "You call that dancing? It's more like spastic flailing!"

"Bastard," declared Mark, throwing another pillow at Roger.

Roger, almost falling off of his perch from this pillow impact and from laughing, lifted an arm to block another pillow to the head, though he did keep one hand on his guitar, keeping it from crashing to the ground. Mark was just grabbing another pillow and Roger was just setting his guitar aside when the beginnings of what would be another of their friendly tussles (which Mark nearly always lost, being both shorter and skinnier) were interrupted by the door sliding open and the loud voice of the entrant: Maureen.

"Hey there, my lofty friends!" she chirped in her bright, sunny and vociferous voice; Mark and Roger paused mid-movement to groan inwardly at the pun and look over to Maureen, who continued, oblivious to the tableau before her, "So, Joanne was helping me pick out a costume for my next protest, but then when we were done, she got a call and had to go into her office, which left me with absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the afternoon, so I though about just going out and having fun, but then I knew Joanne wouldn't like that, so instead I decided to come over here, and I would've called, except that I remembered you guys almost never answer the phone and I didn't want to hear that awful answering machine message of yours, but I didn't really need to call anyway, because I still have my old key to the building and you guys never lock your door anywa-ah… er…" She broke off her long and involved run-on sentence to finally notice them, and she blinked. "Um… What are you doing?"

Before Roger or Mark could answer with accusations at the other, Mimi said, "Roger was just playing a ballad and singing in Spanish for us."

"Really!" Maureen stared at Roger with intense interest. "Oh, that's awesome! Can I hear? Can I, can I, please?"

"Eh… uh…" Roger blinked warily at Maureen for a few seconds as she lent towards him, hands clasped together and eyes watery with the puppy dog look. "All… right."

Mark, still scowling at Roger, sat back down, picking up his camera again and winding it some more, so that it wouldn't stop playing as the filmer continued to film Roger's stupid song. Mimi still looked extraordinarily amused, and she continued to sit there, ready to translate, though she scooted over a little bit to make room for Maureen on the couch. Once Maureen was settled, Roger adjusted his guitar in his lap a bit and then began to play again.

"Escuchen al pepino," he sang.

"Listen to the cucumber," translated Mimi. Maureen, at this, chuckled a little (she, too, knew of Roger's nickname), but she otherwise listened politely enough.

"Oigan su voz fuerte," continued Roger.

"Hear his strong voice."

"Como un leon…"

"Like a lion…."

"Listo a devorar."

"About to eat."

"Eat what?" interjected Mark. "The mouse he was chasing earlier?"

"Fermez la bouche," said Roger.

"That's French, not Spanish," said Mark.

"Fine. Cierre su boca, and let me finish the goddamn song!"

Mark remained silent. So, Roger continued, "Escuchen al pepino."

"Listen to the cucumber." Mimi continued her translating smoothly, as if there'd been no interruption, while Maureen just stared between Roger and Mark; she'd forgotten about their sibling-like squabbling in the time since she'd stopped living with them.

"Que dulce es su canto."

"Oh, how sweet his voice," said Mimi, nodding with agreement.

"Hardly," said Mark, though he went ignored.

"La voz de su garganta parece un trinar."

"The, ah, breath from his throat is like a chorus of… um.. little birdies," said Mimi, uncertain, it seemed, as to how to directly convey the meaning in English.

"Birdcrap and all," said Mark, though he again went ignored.

"Escuchen al pepino," sang Roger.

"Listen to the cucumber."

"Los vegetales…"

"All the vegetables – whether or not they see themselves as vegetables," said Mimi, gazing sidelong at Mark with raised eyebrows.

"Envidan su amigo."

"Envy their friend."

"Como el quieren cantar."

"Wishing to sing as he."

"No we don't!" said Mark, for the third time going ignored. Maureen just stared at Roger.

"Pepino cantador! Pepeino cantador. Pepino cantador! Canta, canta, yah!"

"Singing cucumber… sing, sing, yeah!"

"Escuchen al tomate," said Roger, only now acknowledging Mark and his petty comments.

"Listen to the tomato," said Mimi, turning to look Mark full on.

"¿No es triste?"

"Isn't it sad?

"El no puede cantar."

"He can't sing."

"Pobre tomate."

"Poor tomato!" Mimi laughed as Mark gave Roger the one finger salute.

Roger, however, merely grinned and continued (while Maureen remained baffled), "El deseria poder cantar."

"He wishes he could sing."

"Fuerte y dulce como el pipino."

"Strong and sweet like the cucumber."

"Pero no puede," declared Roger, even as Mark picked up another pillow (the only one he hadn't flung at Roger, yet).

"But he can't," translated Mimi. Maureen just… watched.

"Ni siquiera da un silbido!"

"He can't even whistle," said Mimi.

"That's it, señor Roger," said Mark, springing to his feet and lobbing the pillow at Roger, who received it smack in the face, again. "Come over here and let me sing YOU a song!"

Roger hastily rolled off of the chair just in time to avoid a solid thwap of a pillow Mark had swept off the floor. Cradling his guitar, Roger fled Mark for the moment, as Mark had all the advantage of three pillows and very good aim. However, that didn't mean Roger was down for the count in the taunting department. Somehow, with extreme care, he was able to pluck out a melody as Mark chased him around the apartment.

"Mark is really angry," he sang, grinning like a maniac. "I know he'll never catch me, though it's really hard to run with a guitaaaar in my hands – ouf!"

With absolutely perfect timing, Mark nailed Roger right in the back of the head, and the musician was knocked over, into Mimi and Maureen, still sitting on the couch.

And so, as Roger set aside his guitar, the weekly pillow war began anew betwixt roommates while Mimi and Maureen looked on, commentating upon it betwixt themselves and awarding points for the skill and artistry of the various pillow tosses, arching overhead…

Ah, another typical afternoon spent in the Loft. At least life never got too dull, right?

END

A/N – I know, I know... I said I'd be doing a duet with Mark and Roger, but I needed a reason for providing a translation, so... enter Mimi to act as translator for Mark. And, as for Roger knowing Spanish... Um... he had to pay attention in at least one class in high school, right? Heh.

On that note, about the Spanish used here and the translations: I make no guarentee that any of it's correct. I'm assuming that the VeggieTales creators and script-writers did their homework, so... if any of it's wrong, I'm sorry! It's not my fault! Heh. And... er... Hope you learned a few important phrases there! Such as 'like butter on a bald monkey.'

Oh! And I upped the rating because of Roger's and Mark's language in parts.

Lastly, concering this story... I altered some of the lyrics, of course, to fit in better with the Rent story. Hope that any hardcore VeggieTales fans don't mind! Heheh...

Anyhooo... Anyone want to hazzard a guess as to what song I'll be doing next time I update? Just t'warn you, it might not be one of Larry's Silly Songs. It might be one of the songs involving Mr. Nezzer... hehe...

Anyway, hope you enjoyed that! Now please, regardless of whether you loved, hated, or were indifferent to it, PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW!

Love, Snarky