I completely understand if everyone hates me. I had a life crisis. All is good now though. Life crisis solved. Now back to the truly important things. Finishing Fuickleberry (just a few chapters left) and get back to Misfits (hopefully to be posted in the next few days!).
Thank you for sticking with me. I really appreciate your patience and general awesomeness. On with the show.
Previously on Fuickleberry: Puck, Rachel, Finn and Quinn set off from Lima, Ohio on the first day of summer break to rescue a presumably kidnapped Mike and Matt Rutherford. Puck runs out of gas while they are in hot pursuit of a lojacked truck. They get picked up by Brandi Walton, Jesus lover/truck driver extraordinaire and she threatens to baptize the evil Jews. They epically escape to the woods, Quinn kills a bunny for bunny stew and Rachel gets everyone high with organic mushrooms. They head on the road again and carjack a used car salesman and get to Hershey, PA, where they assume their kidnapped Glee club teammates are, however, they find the Hummels, Carol and Mercedes' peeps on vacay. Finn throws a rock through Burt's car again, and the kids run into Jesse St. James, who has lost his scholarship to UCLA and spends his days performing at the themepark in a giant and hot and sweaty bearsuit. Adding insult to more insults to Jesse, the Gleek's team up and take first place in the singing competition at the theme park and head west in search of Mike and Matt...who haven't quite been kidnapped, but are definitely some kind of hostages to Santana and Brittany.
whew. That's quite a lot. Have fun reading that Brad.
Fuickleberry Saves the World: The Dramatic and Badass Rescue of Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The quartet of Finn, Quinn, Rachel and Puck headed west from Hershey, Pennsylvania in their stolen car with a ridiculously sized check for $2500 dollars and one simple text message from Mike Chang.
Help us. What happens here stays here.
Puck had been so excited that they were heading towards Vegas that he had managed to out chatter Rachel completely. Somehow, through all of their trials and tribulations, he had managed to keep a hold of his fake id and he was currently regaling them on how he was going to clean up at the blackjack tables.
"The thing is, I don't look smart. See, watch me do the Finn face," Puck insisted as he drove into the night. They had been driving for 18 hours, and had managed to make it to the great state of Indiana. They were heading to the first Bank of America they could so that Rachel could cash their over-sized check and then they could pay for a motel room where they could shower, change and recharge their batteries before non-stop driving to Vegas and saving their boys.
This would have worked amazingly. But apparently, karma wanted to strike them down.
"Do you smell burning? I smell burning," Finn mumbled sleepily from the back seat of the car where he and Quinn were avidly trying to sleep before their driving shift started.
"That slimy son of a bitch," Quinn hissed, climbing over Finn's ridiculously long limbs and peaking at the dashboard. "We're overheating. The car dealership guy totally was trying to sell us a lemon."
"Well if it's any consolation, we did steal it from him," Rachel mumbled dryly as Puck began to pull the car over due to the heavy smoke coming from under the hood making it incredibly difficult to see. Rachel pouted and demanded, "Why can't anything go right for us this summer?"
"The phone says there's a town with a garage one and a half miles away," Quinn announced wearily as they all made their way out of the car, each instinctively grabbing all of the possessions they had acquired, Rachel clutched the giant check while the others loaded their arms with duffle bags.
"Do you think we could hitch a ride?" Finn wondered hopefully.
His suggestion was met with total silence from his traveling companions and after about two minutes of trudging along the road, the tall boy finally noticed Puck, Rachel and Quinn were all gaping at him with incredulous horror. He shrugged at the stiffly and grumbled.
"It's super hot, and I'm tired."
"Can I please, just this one time, Berry-pants?" Puck turned to Rachel with definite pleading and desperation in his gaze.
Rachel rolled her eyes and her mouth turned upwards slightly as she deferred to Quinn magnanimously, "Would it be too horrible to allow Noah to assault Finn just this once for a truly horrible idea?"
"Assault away," Quinn rolled her eyes.
The two girls continued walking as Puck lunged for Finn, who loudly complained,
"Get off me, Puck! It's too hot to rough-house-OWWW, what was that for?"
"You said rough-house, dill-hole. What are you? Like, eighty-five or something?" Puck demanded as he continued to swat up at the back of Finn's head. "How many times do I have to hit you before you understand that we aren't hitchhiking anymore. You wanted to hitchhike once, and Rachel and I almost got fucking baptized you douchetard!"
"Was that my idea?" Finn wondered.
"You thought it up when you peed on the side of the road!" Quinn reminded him as she and Rachel continued to amble down the road, shoulder to shoulder as they giggled over the boys' antics.
"Oh right," Finn nodded. "Okay, I won't have anymore peeing ideas, then."
"That's be a fucking super duper awesome start," Puck hit the back of Finn's head once more playfully.
"Not like you have any bright ideas," Finn scoffed.
"I've got shitloads of ideas," Puck insisted. "Like for one...everyone into the bushes!"
Rachel and Quinn dove for it immediately, sensing the urgency in his voice. Puck had to grab Finn's arm and practically throw him to the side of the road as they hid from view. A state police car zoomed by their hiding spot and came to a direct stop at their abandoned stolen car. Puck balled his hands into fists and swore under his breath. Rachel looked to him with wide eyes and whispered,
"Are we going to be okay?"
"Well, we just lost our wheels, for sure," Puck sighed.
"Dammit!" Quinn stomped her foot.
"Oh God, oh god, oh god," Finn mumbled.
"Finn Hudson, calm down," Quinn gripped his forearm between both of her hands. She shot a look Rachel's way and said, "He's seriously three seconds away from a meltdown. I think his blood sugar is low."
"We're going to get stranded here forever. Alone in the woods," Finn practically whined. Their summer adventure was definitely beginning to take its toll. "It'll be like Lord of the Flies, except Rachel will eat our brains and floss her teeth with our vocal chords."
"DUDE!" Puck growled at him.
"Or we'll get arrested, and Noah'll have to make you his bitch in prison!" Rachel hissed at Finn, immediately wounded and lashing out.
"Guys, chill. He just needs a candy bar, he'll be fine. Just everyone shut up!" Quinn demanded.
"I'm NOT sleeping in the woods again or eating magic mushrooms or getting kidnapped, can't we just...can't we go home?" Finn demanded.
"That's wonderful, Finn. Let's just go home and enjoy our summers by the pool while poor Michael and Matthew are trapped and helpless and alone!" Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Time out, time out!" Puck demanded of everyone, grabbing Rachel's hand and attempting to bring her down a few notches before she could really get started with lambasting poor low blood sugar Finn. He took a few deep breaths as surprisingly they all did what he wanted. Without intending to, his thumb ran circles around in the inside of Rachel's wrist, slowly soothing her as her cheeks flushed and her breathing evened out. Finally he nodded to Quinn and asked, "Check the maps. Where's the nearest motel?"
"Uhm...next to the gas station. It's like, all in a line. Gas station. Motel. Bar. Pawn shop," Quinn shrugged.
"Sweet. We're going to walk through the woods quietly. No arguing. No insulting. No hitting," Puck insisted. "Quinn and Finn are going into the gas station so Finn can grab a candy bar and stop being a douchebag."
"You said no insulting," Quinn reminded him with an overly dramatic eyeroll.
"Doesn't count yet," Puck waved her off with his free hand. "Berry-pants and I are going to the pawn shop and cashing that check. Then we're going to get a motel room for the night. In the morning, we'll get tickets. Bus tickets or train tickets or any kind of tickets to get our asses to Vegas. Alright? We good? Anyone else want to have a pissy ass bitch fit? All right. Let's transform and roll out."
"Hey. When we were kids, you let ME be Optimus," Finn mumbled irritably. "You always wanted to be Hot Rod or Bumblebee."
"Finn. You're an idiot," Puck grumbled.
"No insulting, Noah."
"I'm going to kill that guy. I'm going to rip out his insides with my bare hands and I'm going to give the rotten and disgusting fatty innards to Hummel so he can make an outfit for Lady Gaga to wear. It'll be a win-win-win-win-win-win!"
"Mike?"
Santana continued to rant as she barreled down the highway at insanely high speeds. Mike looked out of the corner of his eye to Matt, seriously scared out of his mind. If Santana saw any sudden movement, he was sure the girl would kill him with the strength of a heated glare alone. Then his whole body would implode as she verbally abused him. He didn't want to die like that. It wasn't exactly honorable.
They had hit up the third round of "So You Think You Can Dance" auditions, and had all been turned away yet again. Brittany had been told that she would need a little face work done to be taken seriously and suffice it to say, Santana had Lost. Her. Shit. The boys had managed to drag her out of the audition space kicking and screaming and her dramatics had earned them all restraining orders. They wouldn't be auditioning anymore that summer for any Fox program.
"Santana, I don't mind. I like my face. I know I'm like, super hot," Brittany insisted with a happy smile. "And besides. Now we can just go to Vegas and spend our days at the pool and our nights making tons and tons of money. And then later we can cuddle."
"Hold up, what are you doing for money and the cuddling what now?" Matt muttered.
He cursed his luck. He had managed to spend pretty much all of his adolescent years as the silent type. He had managed to keep his mouth mostly shut when Puck and Rachel had danced around each other for years. He had managed to keep his mouth shut time after time when Schue had insisted on rapping like the whitest white bread that ever was. He had managed to stay completely silent while witnessing special girl time with Brittany and Santana. His lack of words and sound had protected him. Kept him alive.
And now he had fucked it all to hell.
"RUTHERFORD YOU MOTHER FUCKING FUCKER!" Santana howled. "Are you trying to say that me and Britts are going to get our prostitute on in Vegas?"
"Uhm. No?" Matt said hopefully.
Santana squinted at him shrewdly through the rear view mirror. Very slowly, the right corner of her mouth lifted into a cunning smirk. Matt did not like the look of that smirk. He swallowed deeply as he waited for Santana to speak again.
"Good. Because you and Mike are going to be the ones making the real money. Vegas needs boy strippers too, you know."
Are Fuickleberry and SannittanyChangford finally both heading in the same direction? Could it be that I'm getting everyone to Vegas FINALLY? Will Finn calm the hell down and stop being a whiny bitch once he's had a twix fix? What on Earth could possibly happen to Fuickleberry as they spend an evening in a small town motel with a BAR around the corner?
All of these questions will be answered in the next installment of Fuickleberry! And hopefully in the next few days, we will get another chapter of Misfits! YAY!