Thanks to all who reviewed!
Keep them coming, they make me feel fuzzy inside! Luffles.
The apple bounced off the back of Allen's head and rolled off further into the woods.
"Ouch! What in the-!" Another fruit hit him squarely in the middle of his forehead.
"Stupid Beansprout! OW." The Scarecrow had almost cracked a smile at Allen's pain before receiving a direct hit for himself. He whipped out his dangerous looking stick and pointed it at several unoffending looking trees.
"I will chop you down if you don't stop!" He shook the stick menacingly.
"Uh, Scarecrow, I don't think you can chop down trees with a stick."
"Quiet, idiot! I'm talking to the trees!" The Scarecrow snapped back quickly, then hitting another apple out of the sky as it rocketed towards him. Allen took two to the stomach.
"Trees don't talk! And they can't psychically throw things! Or physically! Or any type of projectile moving…" Allen trailed off as another apple bounced off his head. He started to crawl towards the direct the apples where coming from. The Scarecrow waved his stick around, mumbling menacing curses at the trees. Before the two appeared a whirring machine, stamped across the side a large marquee read "KOMURIN APPLE TOSSER." Impact font and everything. Allen was impressed.
"The Wicked Head Supervisor of the West must have put this here to stop us!" Allen exclaimed to the Scarecrow who was standing menacingly over something.
Carefully picking his way around the machine, he joined the Scarecrow on the other side of the spitting machine. Allen looked down at the ground, and almost smacked himself. The source of the noise he had heard.
"I don't think my entire stash of sleeping pills and all of Master's drink could make me sleep this soundly." Allen squatted next to the snoring figure. The Scarecrow made a disgusted 'che' sound, and poked the man's shoulder roughly with his stick. Allen leaned over to look at the man lying (apparently comfortably) on the ground. A bright red head of hair was held up with a terrible shade of green headband, a dark eye patch covered the right eye, and a putrid orange scarf was pulled up as a sort of makeshift pillow. He clutched a small mallet to his chest, and apparently feeling the stares of the others promptly rolled over and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like 'yeah, I like it like that.'
"You know, this guy makes me wonder if seeing in color is actually a good thing. I mean, really. Green and orange? Who makes these kinds of mistakes?"
"Says the beansprout with bright red bowling shoes."
"Sez you!" Allen and the Scarecrow glared at each other for a moment, before being snapped out of it by another large red-pine sawing snore from their feet.
"Maybe we should wake him up." Allen really needed to work on that kindness thing.
"Or we should just leave him and his infernal machine."
"Poke him." For once, the Scarecrow merely glowered and did as asked, roughly shoving his stick into the side of the recumbent red head.
"Fiv-eh minhuts…guramps."
"What did he just call me? Poke him harder!" Allen was quite sensitive about age jokes. A jab to the stomach received a half-hearted swat and another mumble. A prod to the shoulder was merely a groan.
"Can I just stab him through?" The Scarecrow festered and raised the stick with both hands above his head.
"No! Don't do that!" Allen reached to stop the Soba-stuffed brainless doff from braining the man, but promptly tripped over the treadless shoes, and fell across the sleeper.
"DOUF. Okay, okay, I'm up! Crazy ole pand-Hey! Get your elbow out of there!" The man sat bolt upright and scooted out from under Allen. He stuck his arms in the arm and yawned, dramatically. He blinked, looking up at the homicidal looking Scarecrow, and the slightly dazed Allen.
"I swear this was my harem, not Teddy Roosevelt and some molester." The man adjusted his scarf and ran a hand through his hair. Not that it helped it any.
"Teddy what, Rabbit?" The Scarecrow narrowed his already narrow eyes.
"Oi, nevermind. So who're you? And you?"
"Better question, who are you? And what are you doing?" Allen stood up and brushed himself off.
"I'm a Bookman! Or a Bookman in training, I guess." He looked around nervously before continuing. "I was here trying to break this machine, and I got tired and took a nap. The end." He twirled the tiny mallet in his hand as a flourish.
"…That's it? Well, I'm Allen, and I'm headed to Emerald Castle so I can find out how to return these shoes, and this is Scarecrow. He needs a brain, as you can see."
"Oh yes. Brains are nice. I have a big one." The Junior Bookman stuck a thumb into his chest proudly, recoiling slightly as the pointy end of Mugen-stick hovered too closely to his remaining eye. "No 'fense of course. And those are terrible shoes, I'm not sure the Wizard can do much to help you with fashion sense."
"Says the man wearing orange and green? This is techicolor you know."
"My boyish good looks let me get away with it. Now, I need to finish my job, so if you can stand back." Allen took a step back. The Scarecrow didn't move.
"Shape-shifting hammer! Let's go!" The Bookman held his mallet up to the sky. Nothing happened.
"I think it's a mallet, Bookman."
"Your mother's a whore." The Bookman stated bluntly, not even turning around.
"What? My mother's dead!"
"Then she's a dead whore."
"That's heartless! Terrible! How could you say something like that!" Allen's lower lip quivered.
"I ain't got one of those." He turned around a hit his chest with a closed fist. "Nothing in the chest cavity. Blanko, zippo, zilch. Cept my lungs of course. And ribs. And diaphragm. And various muscle groups." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then held up the mallet again. "Fine, we'll try it your way though, if it makes you feel better."
"You don't have a…heart? At all?"
"Shape-shifting Mallet! Let's go!" Dramatic pose. Nothing.
"Idiot Rabbit, stop standing like that."
"This is necessary for the procedure! And nope, nada heart." He shook the mallet/hammer and held it up to his ear.
"Maybe its just an ordinary mallet after all." Allen looked confused for a moment before piping up again. "Hey! Maybe you can come to Emerald Castle with us! A get a new mallet, so you can do your job!"
"Okay, sounds fun. Let's be friends." He whirled on the Scarecrow, and seemed to ponder for a moment. "Did your father not love you enough as a child, or did you always enjoy dresses and tights?"
After a brief but violent struggle, Allen held the two as far apart as his arms would stretch.
"And maybe we can get you some tact too."
ooooo
"We're off the steal the gizzard, la la la la la la l-DAH!"
"That's not how the song goes, idiot!"
"Will you skip in time with the beat at least! You're slowing everyone down!"
"Now, now, I will pull this Daisy Chain over if you two don't stop fighting right now, twerps!"
"Who are you to be calling me a twerp, Mr. Your-Mother-Jokes-For-20-Straight-Minutes?"
"I can't help it! It's a disability!"
"Would you like my medal, then?"
"Oh, I'd say you're all twerps."
"Whoziwhatzit?"
All three slammed on the brakes, turning and staring at the Bookman's end of the line. There stood the Head Supervisor, glasses shimmering and evil grin spreading across his face. He held a container of something mysterious in the other hand. The Bookman promptly unlinked arms with him and stood back, a light of slight disgust on his face. Tim hid behind Allen's head. The Scarecrow held up his stick. The Head Supervisor held up a megaphone.
"Helping this little man along, are you gentlemen?"
"No, need to shout. Or insinuate things."
"I will cut you."
"Well, you stay out of it, or I'll serve you for dinner-!"
"WHO TOLD YOU ABOUTTHAT?"
"And I'll use you as my personal calendar Mr. Memory!"
"Your sister is-!"
"DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY PRECIOUS SISTER!" and with that, the Head Supervisor threw his steaming hot container of coffee towards the Bookman, who promptly ducked, the steaming brew covering The Scarecrow instead.
"Now I'm soggy! You'll pay for this Rabbit! And it's your fault too Beansprout!"
"I didn't do anything!"
"That's exactly it! And Rabbit! You get back here!" The two took off at full tilt down the road. Allen noticed that the Supervisor of the West had disappeared, and took off after the other two.
"You don't have to listen to him! Please don't leave me!"
ooooo
"This forest…it's a bit, uh. Dark and scary, innit?" Allen looked around nervously.
"It's deciduous." The Bookman preformed his thumb to the chest and cat-who-got-the-cream grin routine.
"Wha? What's that mean? It sounds deadly." Allen squeezed Timcampy tighter, the small golem waved his tiny arms about in protest.
"Oh, there's probably animals in it, sure. Like deer, raccoons, squirrels…bears." With the last one he turned around slowly towards Allen, evil grin in place.
"Buh-Bears?!"
"Tigers." The Scarecrow didn't sound scared, just stating the obvious.
"There are no tige-! OW." The Bookman rubbed arm.
"Tigers. And Lions."
"Oh my!" As Allen moved closer to the two, they looked at each other and smirked.
"Lions, tigers, and raccoons, oh my."
Next time...?
Forest Creatures, Estrogen and You.
(AND! The first person to get the Roosevelt joke will win somethingggg. I don't know what, but YEAH. Have fun.)