- Nominated for Silly and Sweet '04
Just
Another Dinobot Love Story…Honest.
By: Varyn
All
female DB fans just wanna live happily ever with their favorite growly hearthrob…Right?
Right.
Authors note: This one crazy little party-filled story. Like most of my fics this contains some mild naughty language--I’d say it was rated pg13, but the other day I met a 10 year old who could cuss as good as me. Damn, do I feel like a wimp now.
Also,
If you’re not one of the voices in my head, you’ll probably need to read my
notes on The Portal before this story will make as much sense as it possibly
can.
***I
dedicate this story to our own Lady Venom, ‘cause she puts up with my whining
and she’s cool—and she’s the reason there’s salsa on my computer! Whoo!***
Part
#1: Is The World Spinning or is it Just Me?
“Man,
you look like a FREAK!”
“You
fare little better, vermin.”
Two
very confused looking individuals were staring at each other as they sat in
together in a studio lot, hurried employees rushing hither and thither around
them. The taller was lanky in build but strong looking, with a blue mohawk, an
angular face, and a lip piercing. The smaller one was slender and smirking, with
short black hair and bangs that hung in his blue eyes a little bit. He was,
admittedly, as cute as he was annoying.
For
now he sat mystified, muttering:
“It’s
like one minute we was in da Portal bar getting ready to play some cards--”
“I
thought you had brought me there because you had top-secret information about
Predicon activities!” His grouchy-looking companion retorted.
“Nah.
I jus’ ran outta people to play poker with. Anyways it was like one minute we
was in da bar and den BAM, we wake up in human form, on da set of some stupid
human entertainment thingy.”
“I
believe they term it ‘reality TV’… And they seem to think we have a part
in it.”
“Ya
ya whatevva…Da poin’ is—why? How? Where’s my cards?”
“This
is Narcosa’s doing, no doubt.”
“Just
about everything involving chaos is Narcosa’s doing… Dat still doesn’t
answer ‘why’, ya stupid pile a’ slag.”
“Perhaps
if we play along with the demands of these ‘reality TV’ humans, we will
discover their motives, and subsequently be able to counterattack.”
“Or
get humiliated in fronta millions upon millions of people.”
“Your
optimism is inspiring, Rodent.”
****
Meanwhile
many thousands of miles away, a tallish, pale, girl with bizarrely colored hair
was crawling out of bed and trying to resist screaming profanities at whoever
was ringing her front doorbell. Before noon, of all the audacities. She got
dressed, ran down the stairs, and scooped up her bunny, wondering if he’d make
a decent attack-rabbit.
After
some degree of yanking, she opened the front door (it had never worked too well
since the last time it was kicked in) and stood gawking at a tall man in a black
suit, who appeared to have come out of a large black car parked in her driveway.
In return, he stood gawking at her. He seriously wondered what his employers
were smoking if they wanted this weirdo on their show—she had bright pinkish
hair sticking out at odd angles, big eyes simply coated in black makeup, and
bore a slight resemblance psychopathic punk raccoon. On top of all this, the
little white bunny in her arms looked to be smarter than she was. So did most
vegetables, come to think of it.
“You’re
Varyn, I presume?” He inquired.
“Uhhhhh…Huhhhh…?”
This
just wasn’t his day.
“I’m
Mr. Elroy, and I’m here to inform you that you’ve been selected to be on our
new reality TV dating show—‘When Freaks Unite’.”
“But
I hate reality TV, you dumbass!”
Her
manners were as impeccable as her looks, it would seem.
“Exactly!
We selected you for that reason based on our market research. It’s how we know
your reactions will be genuine and natural, not played up for the audience.”
Varyn
raised an eyebrow.
“Oh…So
I can’t wear my clown costume?
“Nice
try. Besides, as part of one of the segments in our show, you’ll get to come
to California and spend lots of time in a really nice apartment, with NO
PARENTS!”
“Hot
damn! I am so there!”
“There’s
just one little hitch.”
“Eep.”
“…You’ll
be dating a big ugly guy with the absurd name of ‘Dinobot’ at the time.”
Varyn’s
jaw nearly dropped, how in all the world had Dinobot got mixed up in this? Not
being one to think much about what she said, she blurted out:
“Dude,
I can’t date him! He’s a growly old nutjob!”
The
suited man smiled smugly.
“Too
late. We taped your agreement on the hidden camera in my hat. We own your ass
now.”
Sometimes
even Varyn thought Varyn was stupid.
“Bloody
Hell. I am never getting out of bed in the morning again. Ever.”
“What’s
more,” Mr. Elroy continued, quite pleased at how easily he’d tricked his
prey, “coming along to evaluate you and give you both relationship advice will
be…An irritating little smartass called Rattrap!”
Him
too? What?
Varyn’s
mind reeled, and she whimpered:
“Can
I die now?”
“No,
but you can get in the car, we have a show to film. And no pets!”
She
reluctantly put down her bunny, saying:
“Ok,
but if I don’t come back, he will avenge my death!”
“Sure.”
“No,
really,” Varyn assured him as they headed for the car, “He’s an attack
rabbit. Trained him myself.”
By
the time they finally arrived in California, Mr. Elroy was frazzled and all too
ready to be rid of Varyn, although he was really beginning to pity the two
people she’d be spending the next week with. He was paying them, true, but a
week with Varyn was something no amount of money could make palatable—she had
the attention span of a flea, was prone to randomly yelling out lyrics from the
Sex pistol’s ‘Anarchy in the UK’ in public, and you practically needed to
tie her to a post to get her to stay in one place. He sighed inwardly
remembering how she’d sang at the top of her voice most of the flight here:
“I
AM AN ANTICHRIST
I
AM AN ANARCHIST!”
The
people in 1st class had really loved that.
“Rattrap—You
have to be the quasi-host of this show. I’ve given you an itinerary of
scheduled events for our two daters—going out for dinner starts first after I
leave—and then there’s going for long walks on the beach, going to the fair
etc. over the coming days. You also have a hidden camera to film with, and get
to give the other two advice whenever you see fit…Varyn, try not to lean on
anything expensive and dye it pink with that hair of yours. Dinobot, try not to
kill anything important. Have fun, kids!” Mr. Elroy said as he practically
fled from the apartment and left them to their own devices.
“Uhhhh…Soooo…Rattrap—what
The Hell am I supposed to do here?” Varyn asked, gawking at her posh
surroundings.
“Simple,
fall in love wid’ choppa-face. What DB fangirl doesn’t do THAT at da drop of
a hat?”
“Make
me, Rat-Breath.”
Dinobot
snorted, and added:
“If
your jealously got any more obvious, rodent, they would use it as a beacon for
ocean-going vessels.”
“Jealous
of your fans? Nooooo way ya oversized gecko—I want sexy femmes fallin’ at my
feet, not pimply teenage girls screamin’ in my ear. Now get yer fat butt ready
ta take Miss Varyn to dinner—da itinerary says ya give her a present before we
go.”
Dinobot
rolled his eyes.
“Er,
yes…Wonderful.” He rustled around the room until he found a box, then strode
over to Varyn and said, clearing his throat in a very important manner as he
handed it to her:
“I
was advised that the proper protocol for human courting involves giving gifts,
thus I present you with this token, I hope you find it sufficient by the
standards of your kind.”
“Dude,”
Varyn replied, raising an eyebrow, “You don’t give too much in the way of
gifts, do you?”
“Ya,”
Chimed in Rattrap, “He isn’t used to givin’ anyting dat ain’t a golden
disk.”
Dinobot
snarled and quipped:
“It
is understandably hard to decide which faction to ally with when one is entirely
surrounded on both sides by IDIOTS!”
“Well
if you was so smart, how come you gave ‘em away ta either side and didn’ jus
figure out how to use ‘em yourself so dat you could jus’ click your ruby
slippers an’ go back home to Cybertron, huh?”
“When
one is a true warrior there is no time for such--”
Suddenly
he was cut short by Varyn, who exclaimed upon seeing what was in the box:
“A
DRESS??”
“Ya,
a designer pricey one for you ta wear ta dinner tonight, duh. We’s goin’ ta
‘Le Grande Eaterie De Lord Strottenbottom’, it’s a fancy restaurant.”,
answered Rattrap.
“I
don’t care if we’re going to go have tea with the bloody Queen--You guys
seriously think I am going to wear a freakin’ frilly girly DRESS? This thing
has RUFFLES. Heeelllooo.”
Dinobot
gave an exasperated little snarl under his breath.
“Why
do females go to such effort in producing absolutely impractical garments for
their kind to wear, and then refuse to wear them?”
“Because
we can, you clueless twit…And I’m not going to any fancy pole-up-the-ass
restaurant, either. Fancy sucks. Let’s just hit a few bars, K?”
“I
wish, but we gotta stick ta this plan thingy.” Rattrap sighed.
“Says
who?”
“Aw
come on, don’ be so difficult—fancy restaurants mean champagne, and da show
people are footin’ da bill…”
Varyn’s
eyes flew open. She loved champagne.
“Hot
damn, you twisted my arm, Cheese-for-brains. Let’s roll.”
“Um—da
dress?”
“I
said you twisted my arm, not broke it.” Varyn cast him a glance that
made him decide not to push his luck, and the three departed—in a chauffeured
limo, no less.
****
Some
time later Varyn sat staring at her plate rather sullenly, trying to identify
what in the world she had ordered. Suddenly she asked:
“Rattrap—can
you juggle?”
“Yeah.”
“Great,
‘cause I sure as hell ain’t gonna eat this stuff. What IS it?”
“It’s
caviar, duh.”
“FISH
EGGS?”
“Dey
are considered a delicacy by yer wacko kind, V.”
“In
certain places, so are rats.”
“Damn,
you people’s jus’ barbaric, you know dat?”
“Hey,
then there’s hope Dinobot will fit in afterall.”
Dinobot
cast a scowl at being brought into the conversation.
“Heyyyy
choppaface,” Rattrap said, suddenly getting a wicked idea, “I tink it’s
about time I gave some a’ dat relationship sorta advice I gotta give… Now,
every femme is interested in da past love lives of dere, date, right? Tell Varyn
about yours.”
“I,”
Said Dinobot with a proud snort of contempt, “Have never loved anyone.”
“Ha!
Right!” Varyn shot back, “I’ve read all the drippy love stories. Don’t
try to pull that shit with me.”
“But
I haven’t!”
“So
then you were lying to all those desperate femmes in a ploy to get some action?
How Rattrap of you.”
“I
most certainly was doing no such thing!!”
“Well
you had to have been doing one or the other, Einstein.”
“But
I didn’t mean—I wasn’t really…I do not even have the emotions needed to
love, and should not have to bear this infernal questioning!”
“Oh
please, you big mushy over-heroic drama-queen, you have more emotions in your
little finger than I have had in my whole life.”
“Uh,
V,” Rattrap chimed in, “ Dat’s not hard to do. You ‘ave two
moods—insane and drunk, and dey are getting harder and harder to tell
apart.”
“Who’s
side are you on, anyway?”
“I
dunno, even if I was on his, his’s been known ta change moment ta moment.”
Dinobot
cast a steely glance, saying:
“I
think you just changed of yours of your own accord, rodent, so I wouldn’t
judge.”
“Bloody
Hell, I’m getting confused.” Varyn said, polishing off some more champagne.
“You,
confused? Whoo, stop da presses, Varyn’s confused. We nevvvva woulda thought
dat’d happen.”
“I’m
warning you…”
“What,
ya gonna shatter my mind wid one a’ yer deep insights, oh clear-headed
ghandi-ish one? Ooo, I’m allll aquiver.”
“THAT’S
IT!” Varyn emptied the champagne bottle and leapt to smash it over Rattrap’s
head, but being Rattrap he was already long gone out of the way by the time the
bottle came down and smashed into a million shiny bits over his chair. Then as
soon as his head popped up on the other side of the table, she hurled caviar at
it--he grabbed some and hurled it back.
Exactly
30 seconds and 2 bouncers later, all three of their asses hit the curb outside.
“Oh
that was just a wonderful strategy for attack, Varyn. Perfect.” Dinobot
grumbled, “Now what do we do?”
“Get
back at them, duh!”
“How?”
“Singing,
loudly!”
Before
either Rattrap or Dinobot could protest, Varyn stood right up near the
restaurant’s window and once again launched into her favorite two lines:
“I
AM AN ANTICHRIST
I
AM AN ANARCHIST!”
“Varyn,
you can barely tie your shoelaces, you ain’t da antichrist, ya daft punk.”
Rattrap cut in, rolling his eyes.
“Am
too!” Varyn countered, as mature as ever.
“Are
not!”
“Am
too!”
“Are
not!”
“EEEARRRRRRR!!
I can’t TAKE this raving idiocy any longer!” Dinobot roared.
“Aw,
it’s not all bad Dinobot, I think we are now to credit for the first and only
bar fight ‘Le Grande Eaterie De Lord Strottenbottom’ has ever had. Surely
there’s some honor to be had in that!”
“You
have honor and humiliation fatally confused, Varyn.”
“Heeeyyyy,”
Rattrap suddenly got an idea, “I tink we have fufilled da itinerary. Bar
time!”
“Woooooo!!”
Varyn said by way of agreement as she and Rattrap dashed for the limo, Dinobot
reluctantly following behind.
Part
#2: Let’s all Spare a Moment of Pity for Varyn’s Liver.
Varyn
was in her element—lounging in a dark bar, cigarette and beer in hand,
regaling her two companions with tales of her mischief.
Suddenly
the rock music that had been screeching away in the background abruptly changed
to Cher. Varyn nearly choked on her beer.
“Well,
it is Kareoke night…” Rattrap said as they recovered from their shock.
“Who
requested THAT?” Varyn wondered.
They
looked up to see a tall guy with spiky purple hair singing along on the
dilapidated little stage:
“Do you beeeeeeeeelieeeeeeve in life after love
I can feel something inside me say
I
really don't think you're strong enough, nooooo…”
They
could all recognize his voice from somewhere…
“I
need tiiiii-iiii--iime to move on
I need lo-oooooooooo-ove to feel strong
'Cause I've got time to think it through
And
maybe I'm too good for you…”
He
kind of looked familiar in a way, too…
“Well
I know that I'll get through this
'Cause I know that I am strong
And I don't need you anymore
No, I don't need you anymore
Oh, I don't need you anymore
No, I don't neeeeed you anymore”
By
now bottles were being hurled at the stage and boos were emanating from the
drunken rabble. As the song drew to a close, the mysterious performer bowed and
said:
“Someday
when all your collective intelligence is greater than that of a bath sponge,
you’ll all be able to recognize my true and glorious talent, yesssssss.”
Varyn
leaned backwards abruptly and fell out of her chair. Dinobot and Rattrap took a
moment to re-attach their lower jaws.
Varyn
staggered to her feet, grabbed another beer, and half-ran over to where Megs was
standing, with Dinobot and Rattrap following close behind and trying not to look
too obvious.
Varyn
squinted at him for several moments, asking very slowly:
“Meg…A…”
Pause.
Thought process.
“Tron?”
“No,
yessss…. It is not I. I mean he. I mean…Oh, blast it.”
“Megatron—what
in the name of squeezy cheese are you doing here?”
“I,
uh, I…It was a bet with Waspinator—yes, that’s it!”
“Why
would you take a bet with Waspinator? Um, hello—you are the LEADER of the
predicons.”
“He—I…Oh,
who am I kidding. Ok, I admit… Deep down under my harsh tyrannical façade, I
long to sing along with the stars.”
“Narcosa
mentioned you used the Portal to come to Earth a lot, man wait until I tell her
WHY! Heh heh heh…” Varyn chuckled evily
“No!!! Don’t, I implore you!”
“Give
me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
Silence.
Varyn
startled chuckling again… “Wait until this gets out. You’ll have to do a
duet with Optimus someday.”
“No!
Anything but that! You…You don’t know what it’s like,” Megatron said,
beginning to sniffle, “Raised by megalomaniac parents, given ‘The Sensible
Tyrant’s Guide to World Domination’ EVERY Christmas when you just wanted a
little yellow rubber ducky… Being forced to take Evil Genius lessons after
school for so many years that you never had any real friends…And all the while
your true passion is… Karaoke.”
“Awwww
when you put it like that…” Varyn found it hard to sound sympathetic whilst
stifling laughter. “Oh hey—I have a song we could sing together…Lets go
request it.”
Dinobot
and Rattrap exchanged worried glances.
Several
minutes later, Varyn and Megatron were up on stage yelling none other than
Varyn’s favorite:
“I
AM AN ANTICHRIST
I
AM AN ANARCHIST!”
“Not
THAT again!” Dinobot and Rattrap groaned at the same time.
“How
many ways to get what you want
I use the best-I use the rest!
I use the enemy!
I use… ANARCHY!
'Cause iiiiiiiii wanna beeeeeeee ANARCHY!”
“In
all my years of war I have never endured such travails as this.” Dinobot
complained.
“Hey—it
was YOUR idea ta follow along wid’ dis reality TV stuff.”
“You
failed to offer any better solutions!”
“I
dunno if dere are any!”
And
much to their dismay, it seemed Varyn had an internal stereo system fed on
beer—because the more she had, the louder she got.
All.
Night.
Long.
****
Varyn dragged
herself into the kitchen the next morning and fixed herself a few wake-up shots
of whiskey to make herself feel better, and some pizza for breakfast.
“What
happened last night?” She asked Rattrap, “And who stomped on my head?”
“Ya
mean what happened before or afta’ you passed out an’ we had ta carry yer
ass home?”
“I
did?”
“Oh
yeah, out like a light--And da truly scary thing is, Megs was still singin’
when we left! Dat guy has an obsession.”
“Woah…Did
you get it all on film RT?”
“Duhhhh.”
“Blackmail.”
“Damn
straight.”
Rattrap
chuckled, tenting his fingers ala Mr. Burns as he headed into the living room
and flopped down in an armchair.
Dinobot
surveyed what Varyn was preparing and sniffed, advising:
“From
what little I know of your culture, even I have assessed that whiskey and pizza
are not considered a satisfactory and nutritional human breakfast.”
“Oh
you ate your own bloody clone. Cram it, scale-ass.” Came the rebuttal.
“It
challenged me to battle!”
“Fine,
I’ll have a duel with Jack Daniels the next time I see him, I promise. Pistols
at dawn.” Varyn rolled her eyes, exasperated.
“You
are not taking me seriously!”
“No
shit, Sherlock.”
Dinobot
snarled under his breath as Varyn strode into the living room and he reluctantly
followed.
“WOW
check out the STEREO!” Varyn exclaimed happily, just having noticed it as she
entered. She gulped down a couple more shots and turned it on--then began
blaring Bad Religion, yelling along with the lyrics:
“Say
what you must, do all you can,
Break all the fuckin’ rules and
Go to Hell with Superman and
Die like a champion, yahey!”
She grabbed her current drink in one hand, pizza in the other, and began jumping on the couch as the song went on:
“Hey I don't know if the billions will survive,
But I'll believe in God when 1 and 1 are 5.
My moniker is man and I'm rotten to the core.
I'll tear down the building just to pass through the door.”
“Whoo,
good song Varyn!” Chimed in Rattrap.
“Damn right it is!” Varyn replied as the music shook the walls and rattled many a costly vase.
“So do what you must, do all you can,
Break all the fuckin’ rules and
Go to Hell with Superman and
Die like a champion, yahey!”
Dinobot
sighed heavily—that he, a proud warrior, should live to see such displays of
reckless abandon.
“Oh
why…Why was I singled out for this torment?”
“Awwww
don’t be sucha stick in da mud, lizard-lips, dat song’s like da Varyn
Anthem.”
“Stop
encouraging her, vermin!”
“Hey,
I’m gonna encourage anyone who can eat, drink, jump up an’ down, an’ sing
all at da same time. Dat girl has skills.”
“I
give up…I just. Give. Up.”
Part
#3: Pirates. This Story Needs Pirates.
The
rest of the week was no easier for poor Dinobot, who was fast re-evaluating his
prior opinion that dating was for sissies.
They
went for long, ‘romantic’ walks on the beach.
Varyn
chased seagulls with her sword.
They
went to the fair, meant to bond over scary rides and cotton candy.
Varyn
made a concentrated effort to sign them all up as members of the freakshow.
It
wasn’t long before Dinobot stubbornly refused to go on any more outings with
that…Pink-haired Thing.
The
only problem was, the most important event on the itinerary hadn’t been
touched on yet—the final two days, in which Rattrap had to give them both a
last session of relationship advice, and they then were to spend the rest of
their time together alone in ‘Sunset Manor’--a romantic sea-side
summerhouse.
Rattrap
knew that if he didn’t patch things up between those two and get both their
annoying selves to the summerhouse, he might not get paid, and be damned if he
had put in all this time not to get one red cent.
He
decided to take Varyn there first, try to talk some sense into her (he was a rat
with grand ambitions), and then return to pick up Dinobot, bringing him to the
house later to discover a totally reformed and sweet Varyn all ready to melt his
heart.
Or
at least, a Varyn who wouldn’t spit in his face. Much.
****
Rattrap
and Varyn sat on the couch of the summerhouse, Rattrap desperately trying to
think of a way to civilize the unruly human beside him.
“Ok,
V—As much as I’ve enjoyed seeing ya drive choppa-face stark ravin’ mad
dese past few days, I tink it’s time I give ya some advice on how ta improve
at da whole datin’ ting.”
“But
I don’t want advice on how to improve--can I have some advice on how to have
even more fun failing instead?”
“Aw
come on, take my stupid advice so dey pay my scrawny ass. I’ll buy ya a drink
when dey do…”
“Ok,
ok. What am I doing wrong then, oh mighty hippy-guru?”
“Well
Varyn, no offense, but even as far as humans go, yer a weird one. I don’t
think da refried cherry-pink hair, black leather jacket, and spikes on yer
clothes exactly instills da guys wid’ da uncontrollable urge to fall all over
you wid’ cuddles, if ya know what I mean.”
“Eff
off rat-breath before I smash a chair over your fat head.”
“And
uh, I don’ tink dat attitude helps yer case much, V.”
“Fine,
fine! What should I do then? I guess it won’t hurt me to be good for like a
day or two…”
“Well,
mind you manners, don’t smash any furniture, try not ta stagger, slur, throw
up or pass out during yer date, and I brought dat fancy dress you nevva wore,”
Rattrap handed her the box, “Maybe ya could tink about puttin’ it on ta show
dat even though you don’ like it, you’ll wear it ‘cause Dinobot gave it to
you? Dat’s all touching and mushy-like.”
“I’ll
think about it.”
“An’
when I bring Dinobutt over, greet him wid’ a smile an’ have some soft
romantic music on, maybe make his favori—No wait, da idea of you cookin’ is
jus’ disaster waitin’ to happen—try ta order his favorite food fer
dinner.”
“I
think the local restaurants are fresh outta cloned raptor--I’ll see if I can
get any weird seed-pelting plants though.”
“Oh
ya—an’ make less remarks like dat!”
Varyn
sighed.
“All
right, I’ll try…”
“Ok,
tanks--you take care of da summer house while I go back an’ try to talk
Dinobot into coming.”
“Sure”
Varyn said blithely, “No problem.”
****
Varyn
looked down at her watch. 3 hours had passed, still not so much as a phone call
from those two to say they were coming.
Bloody
Dinobot.
‘Oh,
screw it. I’m bored’, She thought to herself as she pulled out a small
flask of rum she’d stashed away in her pocket.
Just
then there was a knocking at the front door.
‘Damn,
just as I was about to start enjoying myself, there’s Dinobot.’
Varyn
strode over to the door and opened it to see not Dinobot, but a bunch of guys in
pirate costumes. And to think, she’d never listened to all those people
who’d told her that California was full of weirdos.
“You’re
5 months and 7 days too early to say Trick-or-Treat. Scram.” Varyn informed
them as she went to shut the door in their faces. As she did so, the Captain of
the group held the door open with his sword, and it was a real sword. The sharp
pointy kind.
Damn.
“We’re
pirates, and we’re here to commandeer this summerhouse for all our
treasure-hiding, party-hearty needs.”
Varyn
looked unimpressed.
“Yeah
whatever…I guess you can come in then, but be nice to me—I have lots of
large, angry, robot friends.”
“Ya
expect us to believe that, who do ya think we are?”
“A
bunch of nutcases in pirate costumes.”
“We
ARE pirates!”
“And
my friends are big angry robots. God you’re slow.”
Varyn
rolled her eyes and walked off into the house, flopping back down on the couch
and taking up her rum, practically ignoring the large group of bizarre
sword-wielding guys around her.
The
captain saw what she was drinking and said:
“You
had better have enough a’ that for all of us or we’ll make you walk the
plank!”
“In
my living room?”
“Off
our ship, ya cheeky scallywag!”
“If
you’re all such wonderful pirates and have so much treasure, go buy your own
damn rum. I don’t have any money anyway.”
“Well,
er, we haven’t actually got the treasure yet—ya see I wanted to head
out straight for treasure 3 months ago, then my 1st mate, Jingo
‘ere,” He motioned to one of the pirates, who did a little wave, “Well
‘e said, ‘But when we get the treasure, where’ll we put it? All the
tropical hideaway islands these days are owned by rich people.’ So I says,
‘Lets buy a really big house to put it in’, and he says ‘How’ll we buy a
big house with no treasure?’, and I says ‘We could sell the ship.’, and
then he shoots back: ‘We can’t get no treasure with no ship!’, and I was
getting quite flustered by then so I said: ‘What, maybe we should just chuck
it all in, sell the ship, buy a house to stash stuff in and steal from people on
land?’ and he’s a right fussypants so he gets all snooty like: ‘Oh
THAT’S a wonderful idea—lets just be common robbers, and not get to keep
cannons and parrots and wear fancy pirate clothes…”
“Um,
Is there a point to this?” Varyn cut in, “Other than you’re all the most
ridiculous bunch of pirate wannabes I’ve ever seen, and your 1st
mate is very, very gay.”
“Arrrr…’Tis
true, in fact last year he was voted ‘Gayest 1st Mate in the
Caribbean’—to be totally honest we were all voted ‘Gayest Pirate Crew in
the Caribbean’…We also have a monkey that breathes fire—do you know ‘ow
dangerous that is on a wooden ship? God, and you wonder I haven’t got any
treasure yet!”
“Hey,
I think there’s a pawn shop in a nearby town—why don’t we pawn off the
monkey for rum money?”
The
monkey gave her look of deep offense.
“Ok,
ok. Bad idea.” Just then Varyn spotted the box with the fancy dress in it,
“But I do have something else we could try…”
****
Rattrap
was finally making some progress, after wheedling for hours as he’d never
wheedled before.
“Well…”
Dinobot relented, “I suppose I’ll go, tomorrow—it’s already
nearing night today…I just don’t know why she has to behave the way she
does. There’s no…Reasoning, thought…Planning!”
“Tink
of it dis way—do you rememba’ what it was like for you afta da great war on
Cybertron? You was a soldier without a fight. Varyn’s life is kinda like
that—no mission, no purpose. She likes da same stuff you do—honor, da
fight—but on her world dere’s no honor, no one you can trust enough ta fight
for. Everyting’s corrupt. You could help her ya know…”
‘Rattrap’,
He thought to
himself, ‘You’s a genius. Nauseatin’, but a genius.’
Dinobot’s
expression wavered and softened a bit. Rattrap went in for the kill.
“Besides—I
know she likes ya, why she was even considerin’ wearin dat dress she hates
just ‘cause you gave it to her.”
“Really?”
“Oh
yeah—I bet she’s sittin’ all alone in dat summerhouse pinin’ for ya like
a lost puppy…”
****
Varyn, having pawned off the dress with great success, was now setting off cannons for fun on the beach just outside the summerhouse whilst a bunch of drunken gay pirates played tag, danced waltzes, and dressed up in drag. There was lots of banging, booming, and really bad makeup.
Adding
to the spectacle was the poor fire-breathing monkey, who had managed to light
his tail on fire and was dancing around wildly all over the roof, flailing
flames as he went.
“Do
you think this color highlights my complexion?” Jingo, the 1st
mate, asked Varyn.
“Which
one of you?” Varyn squinted at the three of him she was now seeing.
“The
one with the nicest complexion, like, duhhhh!” With that he rolled his eyes
and nancied off to find some big pink costume jewelry--just as the captain came
over, saying:
“We
need a bonfire, and some singin’—do ya know any sea chanteys, Varyn my
lass?”
“Um,
well, I kinda have this one song that I like—do you know the Sex
Pistols?…And hey—there’s already a really big fire over there…”
****
Around
noon the next day, Rattrap and Dinobot pulled up to an empty stretch of beach
and got out of their limo.
“Ya
know, I coulda sworn dere was a huge summerhouse here yesterday.” Rattrap
said, perplexed, as they walked down the lane-way that seemed to lead to only
sand.
“I
think you have brought us to the wrong location, rodent.”
“But…I
was sure…” He moved forward a few more paces, then noticed something by his
foot. He brushed the sand away, to find a piece of charred wood.
“Huh,
dat’s odd.”
He
brushed more sand away to find blackened ground, and even what looked like the
foundations of a house that had been razed to the ground. The wind had blown
sand over much of it, but the more he brushed away, the more stuff he
found--including a burnt but legible sign reading ‘Sunset Manor’.
“Oh
man…Someone ain’t gonna like dis!” He muttered to himself. Just then he
heard Dinobot, who’d wandered off a little ways down the beach, yell:
“She’s
over here!”
Rattrap
hurried over to see Varyn lying in the sand with an empty rum bottle next to
her, out cold. He shook her awake, demanding:
“Varyn!
What da heck happened here?”
“Muh?
Zuh?…Who…?”
Squint.
“Oh—hey
Rattrap!”
“I
said—what in all da matrix went on here?”
“I
dunno…But the last thing I remember was dancing around the biggest bonfire
ever with a bunch of pirates, chanting:
“I
AM AN ANTICHRIST
I
AM AN ANARCHIST!”
“Pirates?
Yeah right. I tink you jus’ got wasted an’ torched da’ house by
accident.”
“No,
really!”
“I
don’ see any pirates aroun’, V. I don’ even see any traces of pirates.”
It
was true, their ship was gone already—and Rattrap had the camera, of course,
so Varyn had no evidence that they’d ever been there.
“’An’
hey,” He continued, “Where’s da dress?”
“I
had to um, well…Pawn it off for booze money. Pirate’s fault!”
“Oh
dear lord…You’s hopeless! Jus’ hopeless! Give me one good reason
why I shouldn’t dunk ya in da ocean and use ya for shark bait!”
“Uhhhhh…My
hair dye would run?”
“Ugh!
You…Are so…Annoying!!”
Dinobot
snorted and said: “Well, we’re finished filming the show—I say take her
back to the reality TV place and let THEM deal with her—They’re going to be
even more pissed off about this than we are. I hope they have excellent methods
of torture.”
“I
tink dey do—It’s called bein’ in one a’ dere shows with Varyn.”
****
It
wasn’t long before Varyn was sitting an office grinning at a bunch of really,
really angry TV executives.
“Never
in the history of television have we seen such a moronic, infantile debasement
of one of our programs!”
“Thanks!”
“That
is not a compliment! Were it legal, we’d have you pelted with rotten
vegetables in the town square, flogged, and lynched!”
“Aw
come on, I wasn’t THAT bad, surely.”
“WHAT?!
You had a food fight with a $200 dinner, pawned off the dress your date gave you
for liquor money--”
“But
I had to—Pirates!”
“Sure
Varyn, Pirates. We believe you…Furthermore, you burned down a $500, 000
summerhouse and your singing voice is just deplorable. Needless to say we
aren’t paying you and you’re lucky we aren’t suing you... Our show’s
specialists have determined you ‘an undateable monstrosity’ and ask that you
return to whatever dumpster you crawled out of!”
“Whee!
Dumpster diving!”
“GET
OUT!”
Varyn
shrugged and skipped out of the room, quite pleased with herself.
****
Next
week Varyn was relaxing once more in the Portal Space-Time Bar, and everything
there seemed quite like nothing had ever happened… Except for the fact that
Narcosa kept smirking and chuckling knowingly under her breath whilst she
polished some glasses, a TV in the background playing a very familiar episode of
‘When Freaks Unite’.
Finally
Varyn rolled her eyes and said:
“Yeah,
yeah—very funny. Don’t think I don’t know it was you who was behind
that.”
“Ooooo,
you always were the bright one.” Narcosa replied sarcastically.
“I
gotta ask though--What did I do to deserve THAT?”
“Well,
let’s just say I had to borrow a military super-computer to calculate your bar
tab…And there was that time you and Cheetor played ‘Hide-and-go-pinch-Narcosa’s-best-customers’,
oh and also the time you put worms in the salad when I was having several
eminent Vok scientists over for dinner, and…”
“Ok,
ok. I asked. But why Dinobot and Rattrap?”
“Because
I’m sadistic.”
“Tsk,
Narcosa. Tsk….Aw, what the Hell, it was hilarious. Cheers, oh nefarious
one.” Varyn admonished as she raised her glass and then drained it.
Narcosa
just winked and blew a kiss as she turned back to polishing the glasses.
She
had to admit, sometimes it’s good to be a part vok/part human/part
cybertronian cyborg with weird alien powers.
Ok,
so it’s always good to be a part vok/part human/part cybertronian cyborg with
weird alien powers.
She
sighed happily as she gazed out the windows, into the sunset and the sweeping
mountains of the Nexian Lands—then back to her merry band of freaks at the
bar, all hurtling through space, her own little world outside of time.
‘Cheers,
Varyn. Cheers.’ She
thought to herself.
****
If you’re going to party with gay pirates, make them leave their pets at home.
Cyborg girls can get away with whatever they want because they’re hot.
One should never, EVER, date either Varyn or Dinobot, or try to make either of them wear a dress.