"Twenty-seven bottles of beer on the wall, twenty-seven bottles of beer. You take one out and pass it around…"
Nasuada gritted her teeth. Her eye twitched. The song had been going on for almost an hour. Murtagh's iPod was already at max volume, and you could hear the strains of Blood on the Dance Floor escaping from it. Arya was typing away on her macbook. Katrina had somehow managed to fall asleep, with Ismira in her arms. Roran, Eragon, and Galbatorix were singing. And singing. And singing.
"Twenty-six bottles of beer on the wall! Twenty-six bottles of beer on the wall, twenty-six bottles of beer…"
"I'm going to crash the car and kill us all, and a blessing it will be," thought Nasuada, looking for a convenient telephone pole to ram.
"Twenty-five bottles of beer…"
Murtagh sighed loudly, as he'd been doing every other minute.
"Can you all please shut up? I mean really, hasn't my life been horrible enough? Do you have to make it worse?"
"Your dad threw a sword at you!" said Eragon, sticking out his tongue. "You take one out…"
"And you ate a bunny," said Murtagh, smiling maliciously.
Eragon blanched. "It was an accident!"
"Om nom nom," said Murtagh. "Yummy, yummy, bunny in the tummy."
"YOU ARE A HORRIBLE PERSON!"
"You're breaking harmony!" shouted Galbatorix, manic grin on his face. "We're almost to zero!"
"Twenty bottles of beer on the wall," belted the choir.
Murtagh sighed.
Nasuada's eye twitched.
"You take one out and pass it around…"
Sigh.
Eye twitch.
"Eighteen bottles of beer on the wall!"
Louder sigh.
Eye twitch. Eye twitch.
"Seventeen bottles of beer!"
"Someday," said Nasuada, in a calm, pleasant, professional, baby-kissing presidential manner, "I will kill you all. I will kill you, very slowly, with a spoon and some tweezers and then I will laugh manically and throw your bodies off a cliff and then fish them out and chop them into very small pieces and then throw those pieces off the cliff again, and fish those out, and burn them and dance around the fire singing 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall' until I get to zero. And then I will have a drink. A very, very strong drink."
"…"
"SIXTEEN BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL!"
Murtagh began to rhythmically bang his head against the seat. Arya's typing began to sound more and more violent.
Nasuada's other eye began to twitch.
"Fourteen bottles of beer on the wall!"
Murtagh began composing his will mentally, hoping against hope he didn't live through this. The trauma would haunt him to the end of his days and make life not worth living.
"Thirteen bottles of beer!"
"YOU ARE HORRIBLE PEOPLE, AND I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL!" shouted Arya, slamming her laptop down.
"I thought elves didn't believe in hell?" asked Murtagh, smugly.
Arya glared, her eyes practically shooting laser beams at Murtagh. "Put it this way, idiot: we believe we can make your life so bad you'll wish you were in hell, so it doesn't matter if it exists or not."
Murtagh put up his hands in mock "watch-out-guys-we-have-have-a-badass-over-here" gesture.
"TAKE ONE OUT, AND PASS IT AROUND!"
"This is really chasing away the creative muse, and she's hard enough to find as it is," said Arya.
"What, you need a creative muse for erotic fiction?" asked Murtagh.
"Considering the fact that it's social commentary within an erotic context to be ironic, I would have to say yes!" Arya adjusted her glasses.
"FIVE BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL! FIVE BOTTLES OF BEER!"
Murtagh crossed himself. He'd never been of a religious persuasion, but if he knew fate, fate would kill him just before the last bottle of beer, the bastard. Just for shits and giggles.
"THREE BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL!"
Arya began a long sigh, intended to stretch to the end of the song.
"AND PASS IT AROUND, TWO BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL!"
Nasuada began accelerating in the direction of a gas truck with a "Highly Flammable!" warning painted all over it.
"ONE BOTTLE OF BEER ON THE WALL! ONE BOTTLE OF BEER ON THE WALL, ONE BOTTLE OF BEER! YOU TAKE ONE OUT AND PASS IT AROUND, NO MORE BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL!"
Arya inhaled. Nasuada eased off the gas. Murtagh opened his eyes.
The policeman behind them began flashing his lights.
Nasuada's speeding ticket cost her two hundred dollars. Galbatorix's murder of the tubby policeman, who had a half-eaten doughnut and still-steaming cup of coffee in his car cost them a highly exciting car chase which ended with Katrina shoving Galby out the back window and yelling "He's all yours!" and Nasuada flying off an overpass and into the woods beyond.
Everyone except the car survived the landing. Murtagh searched frantically for his eyeliner and iPod. Katrina unbuckled Ismira's carseat. Nasuada and Eragon began a screaming match over who was at fault. Roran helpfully pointed out that once again, the law was on its way.
And so, the journey into the woods began. They walked until they found a dirt road, and they walked the dirt road until they found a sign that read Camp Chrystal Lake.
They were briefly derailed by a man in a hockey mask with a machete, who Roran felt the need to bash with his hammer repeatedly.
At the camp, there were several abandoned cars, their unfortunate drivers having been killed by said man with machete. Nasuada picked one with keys conveniently left in the ignition, and they were off again.
"I think we should go back and get him," said Eragon.
"Eragon," said Murtagh. "Two days ago, you were hell-bent on his elimination. You wanted his life to ASAP. And now we have to save him from the coppers? He can do that himself. He knows magic."
"I still think it's not fair. He was so looking forward to Disney," said Eragon.
Murtagh rolled his eyes and settled back in the window seat he had swiped from Roran.
"I bet Galby would have really enjoyed the Haunted Mansion," said Arya, musingly.
"Yeah," said Murtagh, musingly. "He loves scary stuff."
"And he really wanted Pooh's autograph," said Eragon. 'He told me before we left."
"Everyone deserves to go to Disney, at least once," said Katrina.
"Oh, come on," said Nasuada.
But she turned the car around, just the same.
The prison where Galbatorix was languishing was surprisingly comfortable. The only caveat was his roommate, who was large and leering and kept discussing showers and how easy soap was to drop.
Galbatorix shifted uneasily on his bunk. He could kill all the guards but that might lead to becoming a Number One Most Wanted Criminal, and he was fairly sure that Disneyland didn't allowed such people through their doors. Not being an all-powerful monarch was surprisingly complicated.
Galby was beginning to see that stealth was his only option.
"Okay, so when the guard comes in, I'll yell 'Look a distraction!' and then bolt," thought Galbatorix.
Meanwhile, Eragon was counting pennies.
"Okay, nine-hundred ninety-nine collars and ninety-nine cents," said the rider. "Does anyone have another penny?"
"Eragon, we've all been through our pockets," said Nasuada crossly.
"No money, so bail," said the prison guard.
"You happiness stealing bastard," muttered Eragon.
Roran was looking on the floor for stray pennies. Arya was charging her macbook. Murtagh was attempting to get her to allow him to charge his ipod off of her computer. Katrina was feeding Ismira. Nasuada sighed.
"Has it occurred to any of you to use magic?" she asked.
"Of course it has! I mean—" Eragon trailed off.
"Hey, don't look at me," said Murtagh. "He's the big awesome rider; he should have thought of it!"
"JustSo Eragon and Murtagh conferred and created a spell that would make a penny out of thin air. It took a surprising amount of energy; and it was quite a long spell. A random person who was waiting to visit his jailed cult leader thought that Murtagh had been seized by the Holy Spirit and began speaking in tongues with him.
"Pennies from heaven!" said the fundie, awestruck, as the penny appeared in Murtagh's hand.
'Yeah, yeah, hail Satan, have a nice day," said Murtagh, shoving the money at the guard. "Bring out the king guy."
And Galbatorix was led out of jail and packed into the car. Nasuada hit the gas, and they were once again bound for Florida.
I'm updating. Give me cookies.