Summary: After Bryan tries and fails to cure Ian's phobia with his 'desensitization' method, he decides to take Ian along to watch Spencer's cricket match so he can meet some friendly British people. When Ian's overactive imagination causes this to backfire, however, Tala appears with a weird revelation, and Bryan gets yet another idea.
Disclaimer: Beyblade does NOT belong to me, however much I might wish it does.
The plot is inspired by this freaking brilliant episode of The Regular Show, so if anyone's reading this and thinking, 'Heyyy, i've seen this somewhere before' then well, yeah, that's why. I'm not claiming it's brilliance! DDDDDD:
2. Cricket
"Look at it!"
"No!"
"Look at it."
"Bryaaaan, stop!"
"Look at it! It's not even real, man – you can see the microphone showing, look at it!"
"No! Stop, I'm not gonna!"
"Damnit Ian, look at it! I'm sick of you keeping me up. I can feel myself getting uglier by the second!"
With one hand, Bryan was holding the back of Ian's head and pushing it up against the tv screen. With the other, he was holding one of Ian's hands behind his back. Ian had his eyes squeezed shut tight, and he was squirming around to try and get out of Bryan's vice-like hold. He was pushing away from the tv screen with his spare hand, and kicking against the tv stand with his leg. The tv was paused with a picture of the British taxi just about to pounce on some poor victim. And, sure enough, there was in fact a microphone peeking through at the top of the screen.
Two days later, and Bryan and Ian were in exactly the same position – but with significantly less energy.
"..noo..oo.."
"look...at it - look.."
"...wanna. don't.."
"...look.."
Ian was sick of it. He was tired of Bryan pushing his head against the damn screen – he'd been doing it for two days straight, damnit. He was hungry and he needed to pee!
Suddenly feeling empowered, Ian roared like a beast and threw Bryan off of him, sending the taller blader hurtling backwards over the table. "ARRGHHH! Dude, I said stop! This isn't working, I hate that stupid movie!"
He then turned around and tore the video right out of the player, and proceeded to rip the rolls of tape out (still roaring like a beast) before throwing it across the room. Bryan watched as it flew over his head and smashed into the doorframe, breaking into tiny little pieces. He then looked over at the smaller guy, who was panting like a bull after his rage. God Ian was scary when he roared like that. If Bryan wasn't so tough, he might've peed a little.
Just then, Spencer walked in, wearing rather strange attire. He was dressed completely in white; white jumper, white trousers, he was even wearing a white cap. And in his hand, he was holding a long bat. Bryan thought it looked a little familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Spencer looked down at his feet where the broken pieces of video lay, and then let his eyes scour the mess on the floor, before finally looking at the two younger bladers in the middle of the room. "...What the hell?" he said.
"Ian made us watch a stupid crappy horror movie and now he keeps having nightmares and keeping me up and making me ugly!"
"Bryan keeps yelling at me for being scared of the evil British taxi and he tried to make me watch it over and over and over!"
"What the hell?" Spencer said again, confused because the two idiots answered at the same time and he didn't hear a word. "Look, whatever, I don't care. Just clean up this mess before I get back from my cricket game."
Ah, now Bryan understood the strange clothing. It was a cricket outfit. But why was Spencer playing cricket?
"Why are you playing cricket, Spencer?" said Ian, voicing Bryan's thoughts perfectly.
"What? I'm trying new things. Don't judge me" Spencer replied defensively, folding his arms.
"Oh, hey, Spencer!" Bryan just had an idea. "Will British people be there?"
"It's cricket," Spencer deadpanned, "what do you think?"
"So… that's a yes then?" Bryan received no reply. "Great! Me and Ian are coming too!"
"Wh - what?" squeaked the little purple haired teen. "Why?"
"Because, Ian," Bryan growled, "British people are gonna be there. And I'm gonna show you just how nice British people are."
"N - no! Bryan, what if they all drive taxis?"
"Stop your whining! All they do is drink tea and talk about the weather and say 'how do you do.' We're going to that cricket match, Ian."
Ian once again found himself being dragged roughly by the arm by Bryan to do yet another thing that he didn't want to do. Why was life being so cruel?
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
"See, Ian? There's nothing to be afraid of, look at how cool and collected all these British people are."
"I.. I guess so."
Ian and Bryan were standing at the side of a field, watching Spencer's cricket game. Bryan was standing with his arms folded trying to understand the game, and thinking about how boring it was. The guy with the bat would hit the ball, run around a couple of posts as many times as he could, stop, hit the ball again, and do this over and over again. It was pointless!
Ian, on the other hand, was thinking about how he didn't trust Bryan's judgement at all. He was standing just behind Bryan, clutching his leg like a toddler. At least if all the British people get into their cars and turn on them, Bryan would get hit first.
When the match was over, Spencer came walking back over to them. "So, are you over your weird fear yet, Ian?" he said.
Ian was just about to answer when suddenly he noticed a British person walking towards them. He was wearing glasses and had a mustache. A really freaky mustache. He walked right up in front of Ian, held out his hand as a greeting and said, quite cheerfully, "'Ello, gov'nor."
Oh no.
Ian shrank back further behind Bryan's leg in fear. Why was this happening? Why were British people so weird! Making stupid movies and saying stupid things?
Suddenly, more British people came walking towards him and Bryan, and they all had horrible smiles on their faces.
"Ello, gov'nor!"
"Ello gov'nor."
"Elllllo, gov'nor!"
Ohmygod ohmygod, what the hell were they all doing? There were dozens of them, and they were all chanting 'Ello Gov'nor' at him. Ian couldn't believe it, and the worst part was, there was no escape. They were closing in on him in a circle, blocking him off.
Ian looked up at their faces, and to his horror, he saw that they were all staring at him. Their eyes were bulging, and he could see pink little veins squiggling around inside them. Their teeth were long and pointed, and they had their hands stretching out towards him.
Why couldn't Bryan and Spencer see? Why weren't they doing something? Was this some kind of sick joke, Ian thought as the crazy British people got closer and closer.
'….Ello Gov'nor…'
Just as the British freaks were within reaching distance, they stopped suddenly, and turned around to look behind them. Then they parted in the middle, and just behind them Ian could see the dreaded British taxi; he could hear the engine rumbling.
"No no no no no no no no no."
Then all the British people and the Taxi said at once:
"Ello Gov'nor!"
"AAAAHHHHHHHHHH! What the hell is WRONG with you FREAKS!"
"Arrghh, fuck – what the hell Ian?" Bryan exclaimed as he was suddenly roughly pushed forwards by Ian. He looked confusedly at Ian, who was now running away from them screaming and shouting like a maniac with his arms flailing around; to Spencer, who was watching him with a similar expression on his face; and then finally to the poor confused British man, who had just finished introducing himself to them and asked them if they'd 'fancy a spot of tea.'
"Wh - whatever is the matter with the poor chap? I say, he looked quite scared out of his wits!" said the British man, with a concerned look towards Bryan. "Does he not like tea? I - I - I didn't mean to offend."
Did all British people talk like this? Bryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Damn Ian's stupid overactive imagination and his stupid fear of taxis. And British people too, apparently.
"I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse our friend," Spencer chipped in, taping his forehead, "He's a little confused in the head."
"T'chh, you can say that again," Bryan agreed vehemently.
"Ahh," said the British man, nodding his head in understanding. "Sad, very sad."
He then began to walk away just as Tala and Kai approached the group.
"Hey, Spence, Bryan! Yo, what the hell was that all about?" Tala said, gesturing over to the direction that Ian had run off to.
"Tala.. what the hell are you wearing?"
Tala was dressed rather snazzily in a traditional British way. He was wearing a smart white shirt buttoned up to the top with a deep blue cravat around his neck, a black tailcoat, and a sexy black top hat. In his hands was a cane. But not just any cane. It was his most prized pimp cane. It had a sterling silver wolf's head on the top, and he used this to keep the bitches in line.
"...What," Tala said with a 'come-hither' smirk "Don't you like it?"
"I don't even know why the hell you're even wearing it."
"Because he thinks all British people dress like that," said Kai, rolling his eyes and speaking for the first time since they arrived. He was too busy fixing his hair, and admiring his handsome face in the pocket mirror he always carried to speak up before.
Tala pointed his cane warningly in Kai's face and said, "Not another word."
To Bryan's surprise, Kai fell silent immediately with a rosy blush. He wasn't familiar with the unknown powers of the pimp cane, but Kai obviously was. He shuddered slightly just imagining it.
"Anyway. Yes. I knew British people would be here, so I decided to dress British to blend in – I didn't want them to feel uncomfortable and intimidated by our foreign ways. But that's not important," he said, flicking his hand around flamboyantly before letting it rest on his hip, "what's the matter with Ian?"
Bryan let out a long, tired, dramatic Napoleon Dynamite worthy sigh before explaining the situation. "Well, me and Ian had a movie night the other night, and I wanted to watch Twilight, but Ian decided he wanted to watch this stupid British horror movie about a killer Taxi. And then he had nightmares and kept me up all night, so if I look ugly today then it's his fault. And now he's got this stupid fear of all things British, but especially the British taxi."
Tala blinked. "Well, thats stupid. My British taxi isn't scary at all!"
"I know right – wait, what? You have a British taxi?"
"Of course!" Tala exclaimed with yet another flamboyant wave of the hand. "It's my most prized possession. Apart from this," he said, gesturing to his pimp cane, "nothing can take your place in my life, my darling."
Bryan tried to ignore Tala as he made coo-ing noises and kissy-faces towards his cane. Why did he even live with such a freak?
"Aaaanyway, Tala," he said, trying to tear his attention away from the cane and back into the conversation, "could you take me and Ian out for a ride in it? I want to knock this stupid fear out of his tiny brain so I can actually get some sleep tonight. I NEED to sleep tonight."
"Why, of course! It's just in the garage."
"...You've had a British taxi in the garage this whole time, and we didn't even know?" Bryan was beginning to wonder what else about his crimson-headed friend he didn't know about. But then he thought, if there was anything else, he'd probably prefer it to stay unknown.
"Yes, I have," he said with a smug grin. "Come along then, let's find Ian and then I can show it to you both."
Bryan followed him, with a vaguely hopeful feeling that maybe this would be the thing that would cure Ian's phobia, and at last let him get his full nine hours of beauty sleep tonight.
A/N: You lucky people, I decided to update early, because I couldn't resist unleashing sexy top-hat wearing pimp cane using Tala on you all. You can now tremble in awe of his sexiness. 8DDD
HAHAHA, and, despite the British bashing here, I'm actually British myself. So, if anyone's offended, then you better take with with a stiff upper-lip, dammit!
Next chapter: Monday