- Runner-up for "Silliest and Sweetest" 2005

Hasbro owns the Beast Wars. Something about this reminds me of “Feral Ice Cream” and “The First Day.” I had more fun writing this thing, though…and I feel no shame! None! BWAHAHAhA!! And if you can’t tell, I have a grudge against telemarketers. They strike at the most inconvenient times. I get them back someday…

(We’ve all seen the Maximals and Predacons use their commlinks. What we HAVEN’T seen is their answering machines. This is due to clever camera angles, tricks with positioning the cast members, and the fact that their numbers are unlisted. The Beast Wars cast has asked me to keep them that way. Anyway, now this part of the Beast Wars is finally revealed—please leave a message.)

“Hello. You have reached the Vok. In order to assume the form of something your mind can comprehend when we get back to you, we wish you to leave your name and number after the beep, unless you’re one of those stranded Beast Warriors on ancient Earth. You, we just want to stop bothering us. We’re not your landlords! AND NIAGRA FALLS DOES NOT COUNT AS A LEAKY FAUCET!!!”

“*beep!* Tehehe, it’s Tarantulas. Why don’t you guys ever return my calls?! I’m getting really angry, you know! I won’t be held responsible for my actions the next time we meet if you keep this up!!”

“*beep!* Ah, my dear Vok—it’s Megatron, again. I admire your methods of dealing with what you must regard as an infestation, yesss. Is there any way I could convince you to take me on as an understudy? I feel that my talent for mass destruction would be improved if I had a larger scale to practice on. Please consider it and get in touch.”

“*beep!* Hi, it’s Cheetor! Okay, so I guess you don’t do leaky faucets; what about the huge bug problem? Do you know any good exterminators? Do you pay for any of the fees?”

“*beep!* Hey, it’s Bob Skir. According to your contract, I can still get an episode or two out of you guys. Get over the studios sometime this week so the costume designer can fit you with something. Don’t worry—it won’t be Unicron’s head again. I was thinking giant floating skulls this time…”

“Hello, this is Scorpinok. I built this cyberbee answering machine myself, so it is currently scanning and recording your name, number, location, social security number, drivers license, birth certificate, shoe size, favorite color, and, using all this information, has predicted your message with 99.999% accuracy. Don’t bother waiting for the beep because I didn’t install one. I’ll get back to you.

“Hi, you’ve reached Terrorsaur. Congratulations. Now go away. I don’t do Starscream imitations, birthday parties, or television repairs, and I DEFINITELY don’t go swimming in lava anymore, no matter HOW much you offer me. You can hang up RIGHT NOW, Skir, ‘cause I’m not signing any more contracts with you or Hasbro!”

“*beep!* It’s Airazor, honey. Pick up the phone. I know you’re there. You can only sulk so long, you know. I mean, I knew you were bitter about being killed off, but you’re running out of money. You need to get a job! C’mon, pick up the phone—there’s an ad in the job section I want to talk with you about. And, no, for once it’s not a birthday party or a Starscream imitation. It’s, um, television repair, but if you’re good at doing something…”

“*beep!* It’s Airazor again. Pick up the phone!”

“*beep!* If you don’t pick up this phone, we are THROUGH! Do you hear me, Terrorsaur?! Pick up the phone right now, I’m breaking up with you and going back to Tigatron!”

“*beep!* Fine, if you want to be that way. Goodbye. Don’t bother calling me back. You can (sniff) go back to dating Blackarachnia for all I care. I mean, it’s not like (sniffle) anyone else would spend their free time looking for a job for you (sniffsniff) when she has an (sob) apartment to clean, and her own job to go to every (sniffle) day, and—and—GOODBYE!!”

“*beep!* Hey, Terrorsaur. It’s Scorpinok. Um, you really screwed up this time. Airazor’s over here crying all over my couch. What did you DO? And you seriously need to change that message and get a job. I hear Tigatron’s an assistant executive director over at Hasbro, and it’s not like it’s the best job in the world, but he said there’s an opening in—Airazor? What are you—why would you quit your job? WHAT? You can’t go work for Hasbro! You swore you’d never sign another contract with—hey, I can understand arguing with Terrorsaur, but isn’t this a little extreme? Airazor? Airazor!! Don’t—aw, slag. Great going, Terrorsaur. Give me a call when you get this mess straightened out, okay? Yeesh. Some ‘bots…”

“Phone…friend…has reached…Transmutate. Please…phone friend…leave…message.”

“*beep!* Hey, Transmutate, it’s Rampage. Look, I was wondering if you wanted to do anything this weekend. Quickstrike’s agreed to run interference with Depth Charge and Megatron for once, so I’m free Sunday night if you want to get together and watch ‘Hannibal,’ or something. Talk to you later!”

“*beep!* Hey, this is Angela from ‘Crystals And More!’ I’m sorry, but it looks like your crystal wasn’t covered under warrantee after all. If you don’t want to purchase another one, we are having a special on springs this week. They’ve been really popular, and a guy named Tigger has been recommending them to everybody…”

“*beep!* My friend, it is Silverbolt. I would like you to invite you over to the base to try again. I’m sure the other Maximals will see that you are only different. Will Sunday night be convenient?”

“Greetings, caller. You have outwitted my defenses and reached Dinobot’s base. It is not strategically sound for me to answer the phone right now, so leave your name and number, and I’ll confer with you later. If you’re trying to contact me in order to hire me to do my death scene again, leave your e-mail address so I can send you the price list. Complete re-enactment is available only for private parties or theatre productions. If, against all logical odds, you found my number and are nothing but a telemarketer or fanfic author, well, I have this sword for a reason.”

“*beep!* Hello, traitor. It’s Megatron, yess. Do you happen to know who had my rubber ducky last? The props director will KILL me if he finds out we’ve been using it as a duck-hunting decoy on weekends!”

“*beep!* (giggle) This is Mary Sue—please call me back so we can fall in love. I’m writing a fanfic, you know, so I—hey, you sure got here fast! What are you—EEEEEK!!! (rip snarl crunch)”

“*beep!* Hi, it’s Optimus. Out of curiosity, what exactly are your prices? I want to know what I should charge. People keep on asking me to do the whole coming-back-from-the-dead bit, and I haven’t got a clue what’s the going rate. Give me a call, okay?”

“*beep!* Uh…I’m a fanfic author, but that’s not why I’m calling. I just want to know why your toy is pink. Is that Hasbro’s fault, or are you trying to tell us Beast Wars fans something?”

“*beep!* Behold, this caller claimeth the name Shakespeare. STOP STEALING MY LINES!!!!”

“*beep!* It’s da rat, Dinobutt. First off, next time we play chess, you’re goin’ DOWN. But da reason I’m callin’ is ‘cause of our contracts…did you or the Big Banana ever really read da fine print? I overheard somethin’ from a couple cameramen yesterday dat made me wonder ‘bout da Death Clause for your contract. I got a bad feelin’…Skir was smilin’ yesterday. Look your contract over and call me back, okay?”

“*beep!* Hey, it’s Depth Charge. Look, we’ve got to talk. Am I supposed to be the angsty loner hero, or did you already do that angle?”

“*beep!* It’s Inferno again, you traitorous enemy of the colony. I’m running out of blindly-loyal things to say to Megatron. Can you write down a couple more things you’d never do or say and call me back sometime? Oh, and don’t worry about that e-mailer who was flaming you—I buuuuuurned him.”

“*beep!* Why, hello, Dinobot! It’s Bob Skir. Ever thought about coming back into the Beast Wars? Well, you are, and I hope you like that sword of yours—the costume designer has orders to make you look like it! EEEEAhahEHEHEHEHEH!!! I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hi, you’ve reached Tigatron. I’m not in right now, but if you leave your name and number, I can get back to you. Please remember to recycle, and give a donation to your local Save The Spotted Owl Foundation. Or perhaps you’d prefer to give a large sum of money to P.S.T., People for Snow Tigers. I’d appreciate it.”

“*beep!* (sniff) Thanks for hiring me, Tigatron. I’ll be to work by (sniffle) nine tomorrow morning, okay? See you (sniffsniff) later.”

“*beep!* It’s Scorpinok, Tigatron. Are those slagging hunters after you again? You’d think they’d learn better after you took the last couple to court…maybe you should post a sign outside your door to let them know Hasbro’s company lawyer is a 30-foot-tall Autobot named Prowl. It might help. Anyway, I don’t know if she’s talked to you yet, but Airazor and Terrorsaur are fighting again, and she seemed pretty upset. Be careful with her, okay?”

“*beep!* I’m sure that my voice is not one that you want to hear, but too bad! I, almightly Bob Skir, now hold the contracts of you AND Airazor! Your pelt is MINE, tiger-boy! BWAHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA—report to the costume designer in the morning for a fitting. The new toy is already in the marketing department, if you want to take a look at what you’d going to end up as…eeeeeehehehehe…have a nice day.”

“*beep!* I HATE YOU, TIGATRON!!! How could you LET me sign that contract when you KNEW I’d end up in that maniac writer’s paws again?!? Have you SEEN this new toy?! Tigerhawk?! WHAT KIND OF NAME IS THAT?!?! I’m NOT becoming a fuzor with you, so FORGET IT!!”

“Salud. You have reached Ravage. Leave your name and a short message after the beep, and I’ll call you back as soon as I transform.”

“*beep!* It’s Tarantulas. What the slag am I supposed to do NOW?”

“*beep!* Name: Soundwave. Message: Ravage, get out of the answering machine. And talking with a Russian accent does NOT mean you can drink vodka.”

“Despite my attempts to stop anyone from reaching me, you managed to. Did that idiot Optimus give you my number? Slagging ape…anyway, this is Depth Charge, and you can leave a message if you have information on X’s whereabouts or weaknesses. And I’ll know if this is Rampage. I got caller ID after the last time, you psychopath. Everyone else, leave me the #$&* alone!”

“*beep!* Heh, so now you can tell when I’m calling. Should I feel honored that you did that just for me? Where the slag are you, anyway? We were scheduled to have a fight scene an hour ago! I think the director’s going to beat you to death with his chair before I even get a chance.”

“*beep!* Depth Charge, this is your mother. I’m so disappointed in you. I can’t believe that you use that kind of language after everything I’ve taught you! Is this the kind of foul-mouthed robot you’ve become? What if your grandparents had heard that? Your grandfather’s fuel pump wouldn’t survive the shock, you know. And when’s the last time you called him? You’re turning into that ‘bot you’re always fighting with! Which reminds me—you two need to talk about your problems, not fight over them. Violence doesn’t solve anything, and that especially applies to your attitude towards poor Optimus Primal. Just because we dated once doesn’t mean that you have to keep backtalking at him like that. I don’t know HOW he puts up with you, honestly. If he wasn’t such a nice ‘bot…I think you and I should have a long talk about your behavior. I’ll be coming over Sunday night. Goodbye.”

“*beep!* Hi, it’s Optimus…I only gave your number to a few people, you know. Oh, and why did your mother just call and invite me over to your place on Sunday night? Not that I mind, of course, but, er, well, are YOU going to be there? I wouldn’t want to impose, but if she wants to spend a couple hours alone with me at your place, I thought I should ask if it was okay with you...”

“*beep!* Yeah, it’s me again. What the slag is with your mother? She just gave me a blasted LECTURE about us fighting, and then she told me that if I didn’t show up at your place Sunday night she was going to come over here and personally drag me over there. And you’d better not show up on the set today, after all; the director’s put a bounty on your head.”

“Hi! You’ve reached Airazor’s apartment. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but I’ll call you as soon as I can. Please leave your name and number at the beep, and I’ll get right back to you! Bye!”

“*beep!* Hey, Airazor—it’s Scorpinok. I am so sorry for you. I just wanted you to know that I’m here to support you if you need it. Call me anytime.”

“*beep!* It’s Dinobot, Airazor. I wanted to let you know that I know how you feel.”

“*beep!* I swear I didn’t know what he was going to do, Airazor! Look, I’m stuck in this, too, you know. I don’t want to become Tigerhawk, either! I know you’re really mad at me, but I’m a victim, too. If we just stick it out, things will turn out okay. When you’re ready to talk, just call my work number and ask for Tigatron. How bad can it really be?”

“*beep!* It’s Bob again! Just called to laugh at your pathetic existence. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“*beep!* Wazzpinator zzee Maximal Bird-bot! Wazzpinator hope Bird-bot not going to do what Wazzpinator thinkzz Bird-bot izz going to do! Wazzpinator hazz it worzze! Univerzze HATE Wazzpinator—Bird-bot will end up better off than Wazzpinator!”

“*beep!* Miss Airazor, it’s Megatron. Look, I know this is horrible turn of events, yess, but this isn’t the solution, noo. Pick up the phone and talk to us. I’m sure something can be worked out.”

“*beep!* It’s Cheetor, Airazor—don’t do it! Please!”

“*beep!* Hey, it’s Tarantulas. Megatron was asking around earlier about his, tehehe, rubber ducky. I vaguely remember giving it to you last week—do you know where it went? Give me a call.”

“*beep!* Pick up the phone, Airazor! C’mon, it’s Blackarachnia! We can get through this if we pull together…I know you’re broken up over Terrorsaur, but Terrorsaur was a moron anyway—what? This is about THAT? Why didn’t anyone TELL me that? Oh, dear. Sorry, Airazor. If I had known about Tigerhawk, I wouldn’t have called. Do whatcha gotta do, girl—hey, let go of me! Give me that phone back!”

“*beep!* Airazor, it’s Optimus. Pick up the phone. We might be able to work out some kind of deal with Skir if you’d just wait and see. Tigerhawk doesn’t, er…doesn’t seem TOO bad, all things considered. Just put the pills down.”

“*beep!* Airazor? It’s, uh, Terrorsaur. Listen, I know you told me not to call you back, but I swear to the Matrix I was out job-hunting when you called. I am really, really sorry about putting you through this. I’d like the chance to apologize in person, though. I, um, got a job, so I can afford to take you out of eat, now. Just give me another try, Airy! Please call back!”

“*beep!* Eh, Bird Lady, it’s Rattrap. Are you and Terrorsaur still comin’ over Sunday night for da chess tournament? Optimus backed out, but Lizard-Lips and Blender-Butt are still in. Lemme know before Saturday, okay?”

“*beep!* It’s Terrorsaur again--what’s this about estrogen pills and Tigerhawk?! Airazor, please, you don’t need to do this because of me! Look, I told you that I’m sorry. If you lose your flat chest NOW, Hasbro will sue you for everything you’ve got. I mean, that’s in your contract, isn’t it? Airazor, if—if I can get a job as a TV repairbot, you can work as Tigerhawk. Please put the pills down, Airazor…”

“Hi, this is Starscream. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but I’m currently bodiless. Leave your name and number after the beep, and as soon as I possess someone, I’ll get back to you. Fans, worshipers, job offers, Botcon guest appearances, ect. are always welcome. Both Megatrons and whoever wrote the scene in Transformers: The Movie where I died—you’re all fools, and I will crush you once I take my rightful place as universal ruler!”

“*beep!* It’s your leader, Starscream. The ORIGINAL Megatron, IF you remember me. If you and I weren’t already dead, I’d kill you. How did you get an entire Beast Wars episode as a guest appearance? All I got was a two-minute cameo! ARGH!”

“*beep!* Hey, this is Rampage. What exactly is our relationship, anyway? Am I your son, clone, what?”

“*beep!* Wazzpinator izz zztill getting phone callzz for Ghozzt-bot. Why doezz Ghozzt-bot have life inzzurance? Wazzpinator not underzzstand…”

“Salutations! You’ve reached Silverbolt’s answering machine, but I must offer my most sincere apologies, for I’m not here to take your call. Do not fear, though—I will return and call you back. To help me in this endeavor, I humbly ask that you leave your name and number after the beep. Be aware that I only rescue damsels in distress on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays now, and although my fee is still modest, we white knights aren’t able to keep ourselves in armor so cheaply anymore. Thank you!”

“*beep!* Hi, Silverbolt. It’s Cheetor. I just have one thing to say to you: stay away from Blackarachnia! She’s mine! Oh, and if you chase me up ONE MORE TREE…(growls)”

“*beep!* Hey pardner, it’s Quickstrike. Lissen, Ah’m havin’ a Bar-B-Q Sunday night—ya wanna come on out? Ah’ve gotta talk t’ Rattrap ‘bout maybe movin’ the chess tournament t’ my place, but so far Tarantulas’s bringin’ chips an’ dip, an’ Ah think the Boss-bot’s bringin’ salad, so if ya wanna come, gimme a call.”

“*beep!* This is…Transmutate. Light…friend call…earlier…Response…is…not bloody…likely.”

“*beep!* Hello, Silverbolt. This is Rhinox. Are you the one who’s been digging holes in my botanical garden? I’m guessing that it has to be you because I already asked Rattrap and Cheetor. And have you seen Megatron’s rubber ducky? I’m pretty sure I loaned it to you on Thursday…give me a call back.”

“*beep!* Help! Help! Save me! There’s a dragon chasing me! Hehehe, don’t worry, Megatron was just trying to get his chair back. Anyway, Bowser, I’m spending the night on Airazor’s couch. You know, just in case. She’s doing better, though, now that Terrorsaur apologized. There was a bad moment when Skir called again, but I hung up before he could do more than laugh at her. See you later, ‘bolt!”

“Hello, my friend, you have reached Rampage. Is that fear you feel at the sound of my voice? Ah, it is delicious. However, this is merely a recording. Leave your name and number at the sound of the beep, and I’ll call you back to feed on your terror in person. If you happen to be a telemarketer or Depth Charge, tell me your location as well, so that I can track you down and rip your spark from your tortured body as punishment for disturbing my day with your existence. Enjoy the rest of your life, as short and painful as I will soon make it!”

“*beep!* Hey, this is Depth Charge. Does that message actually work for telemarketers? Look, is there any way I could crash at your place Sunday night? I was planning on locking my doors and windows and hiding the keys, but it’d be easier to say that I wasn’t home if I actually wasn’t. My mother’s bringing Optimus over, too, and you know she’ll end up making us feel guilty about BREATHING by the time she’s done raking us over. And then she’ll nag us for weeks about everything she brought up. Quickstrike invited me over to a cookout at his place, though, so if we both hid there until he kicked us out, I don’t think she’ll look there. Quickstrike said he’s okay with you coming, too, as long as you stay away from the fruit cocktails this time. Anyway, get back to me before Sunday.”

“*beep!* Did Wazzpinator borrow Megatron’zz rubber ducky from Crab-bot? Wazzpinator cannot remember.”

“*beep!* Hi! This is Krissy from Mary Kay Cosmetics, and I’d like to offer you a chance at our Lips And Lids special going on this week. You can get one color of lipstick and a coordinating color of eyeshadow for a reduced combo price of $45.78. We’re located on 25th and Dirvish, so you can drop in anytime during business hours. And is spark-ripping something like liposuction? I had a friend who had something like that done, and it sounded delightful—oh, hello, sir. Can I help yo—AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEE!! (rip rip munch burp)”

“*beep!* Hi, this is Rhinox. I finally got the results from the test I did on your spark earlier this week, but I forwarded them to Tarantulas to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. We may have finally figured out whose immortal spark was the one your spark was based on, and, well, I’m hoping that my equipment is malfunctioning. In a way, though, it makes a terrible kind of sense…”

“*beep!* Hi, Rampage? This is your psychologist, Dr. Madry. I know we haven’t talked often, but that’s kind of the point. I want a $50 increase on my check this week, or I’ll just have to tell Hasbro that you haven’t actually been attending our weekly sessions…”

“*beep!* Transmutate…not free…Sunday…night. Going…to Quickstrike’s…Bar-B-Q. Dark friend…free…Saturday?”

“*beep!* Hey, it’s Rattrap. I was wonderin’—does it really hurt ya dat much when Dinobutt squeezes your spark? Ya never seem ta show dat much of a reaction off-camera, an’ I’ve kinda got a bet goin’ wit’ Lizard-Lips and Megatron. Gimme a call, okay?”

“*beep!* Tehehehe, it’s Tarantulas, Rampage. Rhinox probably called already, but he gave me the, heheh, test results, and I just retested. Looks like I get to break the, teheheheh, bad news. Sorry, crab, but Starscream wasn’t the spark the Protoform X project was based off of. Hehehehe, it was WHEELIE!!! TehehehEHEHEhehahEHEhahahAHAha!!”

“Hi, you’ve reached Megatron’s quarters. I’m not in at the moment, so if you’d please leave your name and number, I’ll call you back. Maximals are always welcome to surrender, yess. And doesn’t anybody know where that blasted rubber ducky is?!”

“*beep!* Hello? Megatron? It’s Cheetor. Remember how the computer consoles transported me between the bases that one time? Um, apparently phones work like that, too. But now I think I’m stuck in your answering machine. Can somebody get me out of here?”

“*beep!* This is Dinobot. (snarl) A most disturbing idea has been brought to my attention, Megatron. Were you in any way responsible for how I ended up looking like this mutated blender?! We will discuss this later!”

“*beep!* Hey, it’s Blackarachnia. Did I leave my handcuffs in your quarters? I was looking for them the other night, and I seem to remember…or was that Terrorsaur? Ah, well. Give me a call if you see them anywhere.”

“*beep!* Megatron? It’s Optimus. Listen, we need to talk sometime. I know there’s the whole Beast Wars thing going on, but the Predacons and Maximals need to stick together. The fanfic authors are closing in on us, and you know it. It’s only a matter of time, now…”

“*beep!* Megatron? Rubber ducky? Dude, isn’t this the pizza joint? Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“*beep!* Royalty, it is Inferno! Waspinator has broken into the sugar cabinet again! Please call back before someone—(smack!)—nevermind. Did you guys have to hit him THAT hard? Slag, we’re never going to find his wings, now…”

“*beep!* This is the props director. What is this I’ve been hearing about the rubber ducky? Don’t YOU have it? You’d BETTER have it!”

“Hello. This is Rhinox’s answering machine. Why bother leaving a message? You know he’ll never get off the Internet long enough to check this thing. Send an e-mail if you want to talk to him!”

“*beep!* Hey, Rhinox? This is Bob Skir. If you want to get any other role than sitting behind a computer, you’d better call me back soon.”

“Greetings, drone! You have reached Inferno. Press one to be connected to Pyrotechnics, my business line. Regular buuuuurning hours are 9-5, Monday through Thursday, but I do fireworks, leaves, and annoying neighbors by special appointment. Press two for my personal line. (two) I am out serving my Queen at the moment, but leave your name, number, and a short message after the beep so I can get back to you.”

“*beep!* Hey, Inferno, it’s Depth Charge. Would do me a REALLY big favor? Sunday night, could you swing by my place and torch it? I’ll owe you one.”

“*beep!* Hiya! This here’s Quickstrike, an’ Ah was callin’ ‘bout the cookout on Sunday night. Didja want t’ do the grill, or is it hunky-dory if Sugarbot does it? Drop me a line sometime ‘fore Sunday.”

“*beep!* This is Megatron. I need help, yess. The prop director says it’s my head if I don’t find that rubber ducky by midnight. Are you SURE the other Predacon don’t have it? That leaves the Maximals, and I don’t have anything to bargain wi—hmmmm. I’ll get back to you.”

“Hello! Wazzpinator not in right now, but pleazze leave Wazzpinator a mezzage after the beep! Wazzpinator lonely. Wazzpinator room with Femme Zzwim Team right now, and Wazzpinator get ZZO zzick of watching femmezz run around all day. Wazzpinator bored! Leave Wazzpinator a mezzage zzo Wazzpinator not have to zzit and talk with femmezz all the time!”

*beep!* Hey, dis is Rattrap. I was callin’ ‘bout returnin’ my collection of your parts to ya; it’s getting’ too big to keep. But—uh—THE Femme Swim Team? Da one on TV?…I hate you…”

“*beep!* Waspinator, this is your speech therapist, Dr. Marje. I quit.”

“Heya, Ah’m Quickstrike! Ah ain’t around right now, but Ah’ll be back in a jiffy. Jist leave yer name and number, an’ Ah’ll call ya back as soon as Ah can!”

“*beep!* Hey, ‘stike? This is Bill from Ropin’ And Ridin’ Corral. The boys an’ I were wonderin’, is there any way ya can arrange t’ ride the dragon or that, er, raptor in the rodeo? The audience would think that was real nice. Gimme a holler!”

“*beep!* Dis is Rattrap. We gotta figure out whose accent is more annoyin’ once and for all Sunday night, alright? See ya there.”

“*beep!* Heheh, it’s Tarantulas. Is anyone bringing dessert to the cookout? Let me know if I should, tehehehe, make something.”

“*beep!* Jiffy? Is this some kind of peanut butter place? Geez, man, all I’m trying to do is call the pizza joint!”

“*beep!* Quickstrike, this is Blackarachnia. Look, for the last time—Silverbolt does NOT like you sending me flowers at home! Just give them to me at work or something, okay?”

“Eh, ya’ve reached Rattrap’s hole-in-da-wall. I ain’t in right now, but leave a message at the beep an’ I’ll get back ta ya if I don’t owe ya money. I’ve moved garbage pick-up days to Tuesdays, if dat’s what you’re callin’ about. But femmes, just say da word an’ I’ll be on my way!”

“*beep!* This is Dinobot. Vermin, my battle plan is laid out to perfection, my strategy is impeccable, and your cheese-eating tail is going DOWN, Sunday night! Prepare to be dethroned, ‘Chess King’!”

“*beep!* It’s Tarantulas. I’m bringing dessert to Quickstrike’s cookout. Tehehehe, is there any way you could come over before then? I’d like to, heheheh, discuss recipes.”

“*beep!* Rattrap, this is Optimus. Have you seen Cheetor lately? Nobody else seems to know where he ran off to…”

“*beep!* It’s Depth Charge, rat. Can I borrow one of your bombs on Sunday?”

“Hello, friends! You’ve reached me, Optimus Primal, but I can’t come to the phone right now. I’m probably off trying to save the world single-handedly and dying in the process, but don’t worry, I always come back. I’m not THAT easy to get rid of. If you’re a Predacon, I encourage you to give up your evil ways and join the Maximals. If you’re a telemarketer, it’s far too late for you. Anyway, please leave your name, number, and a short message after the beep, and I’ll get back to you!”

“*beep!* Optimus, this is Rhinox. Why exactly were we covering up the High Council’s mistake, again? Some reporter was bothering me earlier about the Protoform X project, and I thought I should get our story straight.”

“*beep!* Optimus, this is Depth Charge’s mother. Have you seen that boy of mine? Do you know if he’s okay? He’s not answering his phone anymore! Maybe I should bring his father into this…I’ll see you Sunday night, though.”

“*beep!* This is Roy’s Supermarket. Are you the guy who ordered 12 crates of Chiquita Bananas? They’re in, and you can pick them up anytime.”

“*beep!* Enemy of the colony, this is Inferno. Where the slag are you? The director’s about ready to pitch a fit! You’d better not be stuck in traffic again. I mean, it boggles the mind that you take the bus. I know the fuel prices are rising, but still--! (crash bang) Well, there goes the director. Gotta run!”

“*beep!* Optimus, it’s Primus. We need to talk about you dying and then coming back to life all the time. It’s just not how things are done, you know? Next time you die, do me a favor and stay dead!”

“*beep!* Ah, Optimus. This is Megatron. Due to process of elimination, you must be the one with my rubber ducky. Since you haven’t returned it yet like a sensible person, noo, I’ve been forced to find a hostage. Perhaps you’ve noticed that Cheetor has been missing? Apparently he’s trapped in my answering machine, yess. If you don’t return the rubber ducky by midnight tonight, I’ll record a BeeGee’s song over him!”

“*beep!* Optimus, it’s Silverbolt. We lost another director. His heart just couldn’t take the stress of beating up Depth Charge like that. Should we send less flowers than last time? This one didn’t even last three weeks…”

“Why, hello! You’ve reached Madame Blackarachnia’s. Press one for The Stars’ Psychic Services. Press two for Mystic Tarot Card Readings. Press Three for Black Widow Divorce Counseling. Press Four for Madame Blackarachnia’s personal line. (four) Hi, I’m not in right now, but leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you! Well, except for anyone who got my number off that bathroom wall in Key Largo. I don’t know WHO put that there, but you’re DEAD when I find you!”

“*beep!* Teheheh, this is Tarantulas. How’d you like to help me make a dessert for Sunday night, Blackarachnia? Rattrap’s, hehehe, volunteered a recipe.”

“*beep!* Beloved, it’s Silverbolt. Rampage found your handcuffs in one of the cages over the lava in the Predacon base, right where Scorpinok said he left them.”

“*beep!* Hey, uh, Ma Blacky, or whatever—do you make pizza?”

“This is Cheetor, except that I’m not really here. See, this is my answering machine. But if you leave your name and stuff, I can call you back as soon as I can. Bye!…um…okay, so now…how do I turn this thing off?…oh, here it is!”

“*beep!* CHEETOR!! This is the new director! You know, the man who’s supposed to be FILMING your sorry butt right now?! You’d better not show your tail around me OR I’LL TIE IT IN A KNOT!!!—ow, my left arm! The pain!”

“*beep!* It’s…it’s Optimus, Cheetor. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t produce a rubber ducky out of nowhere, and so now—now—(sob) I’m sorry! But at least the prop director half-killed Megatron for not having the rubber ducky…(sniffle)”

“Tehehehe, you’ve reached Tarantulas’ Dark Lair Of Doom. Mad scientist tours and seminars are given from 2 to 4 on Tuesdays and Saturdays, with an optional insane laugh-a-long at the end of each tour. I’m either not here right now, too involved in something to notice the phone, or deliberately ignoring you. Or all of the above, hehehehe. Leave a message if you think I care, but you know you’re just deluding yourself. Remember, if you give me enough information about yourself, I’ll be able to find you and do some, tehehe, experiments.”

“*beep!* Have the telemarketers really driven you to this, Tarantulas? How sad. This is Blackarachnia, by the way, and I’m actually making a casserole to Quickstrike’s place, sorry. Maybe next time.”

“*beep!* This is Rampage—tell me you’re joking, PLEASE. I’ll do anything to make it untrue, pay any fees—OH PRIMUS I’M RHYMING!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

“*beep!* Tarantulas, it’s Megatron. I’m sending you a cassette tape from my answering machine. Have fun with it. Use your imagination, yess.”

“*beep!* Dis is Rattrap. Nice try, Eight-Eyes, but Quickstrike asked ME ta bring dessert. ‘Come look at recipes,’ my pink butt!”

*beep!* This is the Tripedicus Council, Lieutenant Tarantulas. Why weren’t we invited to the Bar-B-Q? Bah, we can never get good help these days…”

“Hi, this is Bob Skir’s office. I’m sorry I’m not in right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Oh, but if one of you pathetic Beast Warriors decide to waste my time by leaving a message, I’ll just have to make sure you make it into Beast Machines. And, Megatron? This rubber ducky of yours sure makes a good paperweight. Heehehehe. Hehe. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhA!!! Goodbye.”

“*beep!* Bob, this is Megatron. YOU took it?! But I already—aw, SLAG…one less Maximal, I suppose…”

“*beep!* Beast Machines? Is that the sequel to the Beast Wars? Surely it can’t be too bad. This is Silverbolt, sir. Can you pencil me in sometime to talk? It’s about my salary.”

“*beep!* It’s Optimus, Bob. I can’t believe you took that rubber ducky. There’s not much more you can do to me than what’s already been done, so I’m going to complain straight to Hasbro about you. Ha!”

“*beep!* Hey, this is Ramp—uuuuh, Cheetor. I was just wondering if we could have snacks in the break room more often.”

“*beep!* Skir, it’s Blackarachnia. I want to file another sexual harassment case against Rattrap.”

“*beep!* Wazzpinator zzick of being blown up! Wazzpinator want Zzkir to zztop it!”

“*beep!* Beast Machines, huh? Well, okay. This is Rhinox, Skir. Is there a way for me to hook my laptop up to the phone jack in the break room?”

“*beep!* Dis is Rattrap, and for bootin’ up cold, who took da garbage out of da dumpster out back? It was just ‘bout da perfect smell!”






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Let me know what you think at dementedangel@hotmail.com