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~PG-13~ Zub 2: Road Trip to the Funny Farm [of DOOM!]

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Zibdas, Nov 14, 2012.

  1. Zibdas

    Zibdas not bad

    Zub 2: Road Trip to the Funny Farm
    [of doom]
    another fanfic by Zibdas

    This is a sequel to my first fic, Zub: The Adventures of Stuff. While not a direct sequel per se, and is therefore not required reading, this plays directly off of events and characters within The Adventures of Stuff, making it recommended.

    Without further ado, here we go~

    Chapter 0: Prelude of Unfortunate Things
    Chapter 1: no.
    Chapter 2:
    Chapter 3: Meanwhile
    Chapter 4: The Road Trip Begins
    Chapter 5: Interlude

    “Are you even old enough to drive?” asked Death. “Do you even have a license?”

    Zub shook his head no to each of these questions.

    “Ah,” Death said coolly. “We’re probably going to die horrifically, then?”

    Zub nodded yes. Death, however, seemed to change his mind and scrunched up the forehead of his skull in concentration. Being nothing more than a skull, a pair of skeletal hands, and a cloak of an endless oblivion has its advantages, such as impressing people by your ability to scrunch a skull.

    He made a noise only possible by clicking a tongue, of which he lacked. “I can’t die, though, can I?”

    Zub shook his head, putting forth all his concentration to driving and not getting them all killed. The muddy lowlands were slick enough as it were, but the heavy downpour was not helping. The cargo in the back of the powerful eighteen-wheeler truck roared crankily.

    “So what are the consequences of crashing, for me?” Death drawled inquisitively.

    There was no answer. As I’m sure you know, Zub cannot speak. For he is a freak of nature, and also the byproduct of a megalomaniacal Magikarp monster. Technically, as Magikarp are natural by default, he is naturally a byproduct of nature. Logic, yes?

    Death tapped his skull in concentration. “Obviously, that jerk of an author wants me to not crash, but why?” As he thought, he noticed a dull beeping. “Are you dully beeping?” he asked Zub.

    Zub shook his head.

    Death frowned, another extraordinary feat.

    He glanced outside. “Are you guys dully beeping?”

    They shook their head.

    “They aren’t dully beeping,” Death said nonchalantly. Zub looked at him inquisitively with a look of worry, but by now Death had grown accustomed to ignoring Zub and did not notice.

    He then noticed an instrument on the truck’s dashboard and tapped it reprovingly. “Ah,” he said at last. “This is what was dully beeping. It says they have caught up to us.”

    After a moment’s pause, Death struck the dashboard with such force it stopped beeping, and, in fact, squelched a sad little chirrup before fizzling itself into disfunction.

    “Much better,” he sighed in delight, then looked out the window and waved.

    “How’re you guys doing?” he asked.

    One waved back on his Delibird. “Just listening to some tree’s album, and planning to sacrifice you guys,” he said pleasantly before adjusting his thick glasses. Death leaned back in.

    “We have a problem,” he said helpfully. Back out the window, he yelled, “Which tree’s?”

    The man grinned panoptically. “I heard someone mention a tree that fell in the forest, that no one was around to hear. So I bought its album, so un-mainstream!”

    Death went back into the cab and frowned nervously. “We definitely have a problem,” he hissed. “They’re not just cultists like we previously anticipated; they’re hipster cultists!”

    Zub’s previously worried face did not compare to the look of terror he now expressed as he floored the gas.

    Then the road before them exploded in an inferno of sporadic flames, causing Zub to sharply veer to the right.

    Too sharply.

    As the truck slid over the mud, it slowly collapsed into itself, falling over into the mud. Zub was knocked unconscious and Death was given a paper cut, which made no sense to anyone in any way whatsoever, which was, quite sadly, to be expected by now.

    Death heard the cargo roar again as he attempted to poke Zub awake with a stick. A blood curdling scream of death.


    Anyway, the hipster-cultists were ordering their Pokémon to fire despondently at the rear of the truck, until finally it exploded in a shower of sparks.

    Slowly but steadily, a crimson dinosaur rose out of the wreckage, its eyes infernal flames and its coat liquefied magma. Its claws glowed white hot as it ripped its remaining restraints.

    The hipster-cultist Death had previously been talking to donned a pair of goggles and looked at the cargo. “That’s Groudon, all right! And boy, is he mad!”

    His companion stepped off her Mantine and appraised the site expectantly. “Adelbert, you sure?”

    Adelbert drew a Master Ball, a small, baseball-shaped ball that was half white and half purple, with an embroidered M to show its importance. “Quite so, Miss Adelaine.”

    Death poked Zub so hard and with such frequency one might call it stabbing. “Wake up wake up wake up wake up-“ he muttered as the Master Ball flew through the air.

    Before the Master Ball struck Gordon, the aforementioned Groudon set a plume of lava in all directions as a testament to its power, a plume that incinerated everything instantly. Death took one look and poked Zub with renewed vigor. The Master Ball, by now, was almost upon the terrific monstrosity…

    But before I can tell you that story, first I must explain it.

    This is…
    Zub 2: Road Trip to the Funny Farm
    [of doom]
    Last edited: Nov 25, 2012
  2. Zibdas

    Zibdas not bad

    Chapter 2: The Explanation

    “Why did I say ‘no’?” wondered Death as he twirled his robes nonchalantly as he watched his [debatably] one and only friend, Zub, prepare to be executed.

    “Do you have to wonder that at a time like this?” scowled Ran as he stuffed his face with popcorn. He, too, was one of Zub’s friends, but saw nothing wrong in watching him get executed in front of millions at the Lilycove Execution and Irrelevant Torture Building.

    “I didn’t even know this region had an Execution and Torture Building,” noted Death. “If I had, I probably would have liked it here a lot more.”

    Meanwhile, Zub was firmly strapped to a large, flat table. The elder of his village of Fallabor strode up importantly, though this image was ruined somewhat b the fact that his tuxedo was bought twenty years ago and was now rather tattered. “Here we will now execute the young Zub Pants, of whom has done a tremendous act of wretched evil….”

    “What did he do?!” exclaimed done of the few protestors.

    “Shut up!” yelled one of the spectators in eager bloodthirstiness, a person Death could recognize as Mama Pants herself. “Just get on with it!”

    The elder, of whom was known as Montgomery Montgomery Montgomery III, looked down as his notes. “Ah,” he said with a start. “There doesn’t seem to be any good reason to kill him.”

    The audience assembled stared hard. They would not lose their day’s entertainment. Not now. Zub merely lay blankly, unable to do anything. Seemingly, he had come to terms with his fate, and was okay if it meant no more insanity on the world’s part.

    I, as the one and true Author of this world, cannot allow that to come to fruition.

    Zub was keen on defying me. I mean fate. Nay, the world! Point I’m trying to get across here, everything was intent on allowing him to live.

    Except the crowd.

    “Kill him because the flying spheres were pretty!” shouted a bystander.

    “Destroy his soul for leaving without kissing his mama goodbye!” cackled Mama Pants.

    “End him for not talking, thereby a freak!” whooped Ran appreciatively.

    The elder picked up on this. “Ah, yes! A freak! Freaks are bad, they say!” He thought about this statement for a bit then decided against it. “Says them!” he corrected.

    “Them say it, indeed!” agreed the crowd.

    “And with that, it is my great honour to kill this Zub!” beamed the elder. “All by a press of a button, no less!”

    “Hurrah for lack of labor!” echoed the crowd merrily.

    As Montgomery reached for the lever, however, the table at which Zub was standing on suddenly collapsed upon itself. The large rock that was then dropped on him, of which would instantly kill him were it not for this strange occurrence, was sent careening into the meatier part of the crowd.

    All of which, by no means, had anything in correlation with myself.

    Unsteadily getting up from the rubble, Zub teetered about aimlessly before standing straight in an unsettling way he wasn’t sure he liked at all.

    The audience was fairly certain they didn’t like it either, and began unceremoniously booing and hissing.

    “I’m so angry, I can stand and wag my fist and let loose a very long list of explicit choice words to no one in particular!” Death scowled.

    He stood.

    He wagged his fist.

    And most importantly, he let loose a very long list of explicit choice words to no one in particular, all to showcase this displeasure and mild inconvenience.

    He was very mildly upset, you see, and mildly distressed at being mildly upset, which in turn ruined his vacation.

    Zub stood up in a daze, then decided against that and sat back down. Realizing he was uncomfortable either way, he stood back up, and walked around for a bit until he felt as though he was ready to sit back down. It dawned upon him that I apparently was not done with him. Yet.

    He collapsed on the ground in frustration.

    “Why don’t we send him to do community service?” cried out a dashing man with exceptional facial hair and a purple suit in the crowd. “It’d be funny, I bet!”

    Montgomery Montgomery Montgomery III considered this, having just waken out of shock. “It’d be funny…?” he slowly repeated.

    The man slyly nodded an affirmation. “Hilarious, probably. Great material for everyone to laugh at. Could make a man rich.”

    Montgomery Montgomery Montgomery considered this. “I do have quite a few gambling debts…” he muttered, before snapping a finger. “Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! He’ll suffer the worst punishment we in New Hoenn can offer…. COMMUNITY SERVICE!”

    The crowd collectively gasped, before letting loose a storm of applause and whoops.

    The elder smacked Zub across the face with the Great Cheese Stick of Impalement and Wholly Voluntary Community Service, instantly condemning him to do community service.

    He wanted to scream, but could not.

    “As compensation,” the elder continued, “you will be bestowed an eighteen wheeled truck to do whatever you want with.”

    Zub shrugged. This could be better than he hoped.
  3. Rotomknight


    Please put me on the pm list.
    I posted in the prequel, and I wanted to let you know that I stopped rsponding to the prequel because there were so many fics I needed to read! And I had trouble keeping them straight, so I picked the ones with the simplest plots to make it easy to keep track of.
  4. Zibdas

    Zibdas not bad

    With pleasure!
    Better late than never, I always say.
  5. Rotomknight


    Not Goran!
    GO Ran!
  6. Zibdas

    Zibdas not bad

    Chapter 3: Meanwhile

    The woman before him took a whiff of her cigarette and sighed. “Can we not come to an agreement here?” she said emotionlessly, yet her voice conveyed anger. He had no idea how she did it, but it was truly an impressive feat.

    “Apparently not,” he sighed, attempting to pull of a similar action to no success.

    “No, Lazlo-“ she began angrily before he cut her off.

    “Zelo,” he corrected patiently, not even for the first time.

    “Whatever. Regardless, we must come to a compromise. Your funds and my plots could lead to something quite extraordinary between us, to protect the Pokémon, you know.”

    “Think about Plasma again,” he argued. “Good intentions, poor execution. We can’t let the same happen to us.”

    “Lyoko, listen to me!”

    “Thieu, for the last time, it’s Zelo.”

    Thieu made a grumpy face and brushed a long bang out of her face with a long, gloved finger. “Listen to me. I know how to do this. We must start over.”


    “Silly Chocobo, we simply-“


    “Must start over,” continued Thieu undaunted.

    “How, again?”

    Thieu let out a giggle. It was drawn out, but beautifully echoed. “We burn everything,” she said as though that were obvious.

    “With….?” he asked, beckoning for more information.

    “Chozo, Chozo, Chozo….” she smiled gently.

    “Zelo,” he corrected, refusing to hide his impatience.

    “Hide your impatience!” she demanded.


    “Foiled again! Confound you, Riolu!”

    “It’s Zelo. Really not that hard,” said Zelo.

    “I have…. a learning disability,” she lied.

    “Oh?” said Zelo inquisitively. “What’s it called?”

    Thieu thought for a moment, then replied earnestly. “Forgetanameatits.”


    “And what is your name, little boy?” asked Death, as he was dressed like Santa Claus.

    The man who was now sitting on his lap reattached the arm that had fallen off with a dull silence. “Ned the Surprisingly Chill Zombie,” the man drawled.

    “Why are you ‘surprisingly chill’?” asked Death curiously, patting Ned, only to discover his killing curse had no effect on the undead, unlike the pile of corpses that surrounded him.

    “I’m a vegan.”

    “I’m proud of you, for choosing such a beneficial lifestyle choice!” gushed Death.

    Ran, cleverly disguised as a Communist Christmas tree, grunted an approval.

    “Now, what would you like for Christmas, Ned?”

    “Evil-“ Ned began.

    “We have you now, evildoer!” exclaimed Death, cutting him off as he grabbed a large box. “Now open your present, scoundrel!”

    Ned the Surprisingly Chill Zombie shrugged and reached for the large, generic Christmas present. As his hands grasped the bow, however, the box quivered. Undaunted, he pulled the bow apart, only to have Zub explode out of the container and onto Ned’s face.

    “Community service!” decreed Death triumphantly.

    “So why did we I have to dress up as a Christmas tree?” scowled Ran.

    Death laughed in response as Zub grappled with Ned. “A better question would be, ‘Why did I dress Lavie up as a cactus and send her to New Zealand?’”

    “Er, why did you dress her up as a cactus and send her to New Zealand?”

    Death paused in thought, stepping over the rumble at his feet. “I have no idea,” he admitted after a few moments.

    “Huh,” said Ran.


    “So…. uh, how’s the family?”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “I saw it on a sitcom; people think it’s funny.”

    Zub attempted to get a hold of Ned, but Ned angrily pushed him off. “Why are you acting so evil?!” Ned demanded.

    “I’ll tell you why,” announced a mysterious woman as she appeared from the shadows of a nearby inconvenience store with a mysterious way that suggested she might be important, but in a subtle and foreboding way that matched the general atmosphere.

    “Uh, hi,” said Death with a small wave.

    “T man isn’t actually Zub!” exclaimed the woman with triumphant thunder. “It’s a robot duplicate!”

    “How can you tell?” demanded Death suspiciously.

    The woman took hold of Zub’s shoulders and spun him around. “This wind-up key on his back was what gave it away! And it’s been here since the first chapter!” Zub tried in vain to hide it, but it was half the size of his body and therefore difficult to mask.

    “You know,” Ran said after a pause. “You would think we would have noticed that before.”

    “You would think that,” argued Death, “But then you remember what fanfic you’re reading.”

    “Good point,” admitted Ran as he readied a Pokéball.

    Zubbot took care of itself, however, and promptly spontaneously combusted. Then it exploded, followed by each piece of the now torn apart robot attacking each other with mallets before exploding again, just to make its point.

    “That was convenient,” noted Death.

    “Who cares?” asked the woman as she disappeared.

    Ned hiccupped and a cat leaped out of his mouth.

    “Ah, so it’s that kind of chapter,” Ran said nonchalantly.

    “Ned’s caught hiccats!” gasped Death. “It hasn’t been seen for a couple centuries!”

    Ned hiccupped another cat, which seemed to further the reasoning of the two.

    “How do we cure it?” asked Death after a few minutes of this.

    “The Communist way!” proclaimed Ran as he brandished an exceptionally large mallet marked with the symbol of Communist Russia. “We smack the hiccats out of him!”

    “Halt! We demand you stop!” decreed a small band of shadowy hooded figures as they too stepped from the shadows, each garbed in a sinister cloak representing one colour of the rainbow.

    “Who are you?” asked Ran, clenching the Mallet ‘o’ Communism.

    “The Student Council!” hissed the frontmost figure, who was garbed in a regal purple. The only facial detail they could make out was glowing eyes that matched the robe.

    “But…. we’re not in school,” said Death, confused, as Ned hiccupped another cat and Zub began prying himself off the wall.

    The pack of six looked around in a daze. “So we’re not,” noted the yellow one.

    “No matter!” the purple one said decidedly. “I have decided to, from this point on, increase the power of the Student Council!”

    “Say what,” gaped Ran and Death.

    “Hic!” said Ned, a cat leaping from his orifice.

    “It’s official then!” announced the orange one, as he jotted down everything everyone was doing. This would be strange without the foresight of the knowledge that he is the scribe of the group. “Student Council’s power has been increased to… uh, how much again?”

    “Ruler of the Universe should work for now,” the purple one nodded approvingly.

    “The Student Council’s power has increased to ruling the universe,” repeated the orange figure as he finished writing. “It’s in ink, so that means it’s official!”

    “Hard to argue with that logic,” noted Ran dejectedly.

    Suckish the Jynx agreed. Death attempted to contain her within her Pokéball again, to no avail.

    “Welcome back, Agent Myriad,” nodded the blue councilwoman.

    Suckish blew her a kiss before turning back to Death and glaring.

    “I knew you were evil, you-“

    The next several scenes had to be removed for two remarkably good reasons;

    Reason the first is because of intense vulgarities expelled by the character ‘Death’. The series of wholly unnecessary expletives are not only unnecessary, as previously intoned, and also reasonably unhealthy for any minor who may care to read this.

    Reason the second is because we have such little funding, we could not possibly show you the subsequent climatic fight scene, not without horrendously ruining the budget for the rest of the adventure. So, without further ado, we present what happened immediately after.

    “Boy, that was an awesome battle!” exclaimed Ran, who was smashed into the Christmas tree he had been previously disguised as.

    “My goodness, it was awesome!” exclaimed Death from the chandelier. Zub merely pried himself off the wall he had been smashed into and shrugged.
  7. Rotomknight


    Was that Zub or Zubbot who peeled themselves off the wall?
  8. Zibdas

    Zibdas not bad

    It was Zub; I suppose I should have made that clearer. Zubbot disappeared again.
  9. Zibdas

    Zibdas not bad

    Chapter 4: The Road Trip Begins

    Lavie burst into the room, ripping off a cactus costume. “There weren’t any free bagels for cacti in New Zealand!” she roared.


    “Is that a yes, then, Jell-o?” Thieu asked.

    Zelo closed his eyes and counted to a sufficiently high number beforereplying.


    Thieu put her hands on her hips. “nobody cares! You could even ask ‘em.”

    Zelo turned to Nobody. “Nobody, do you care?” he asked.

    Nobody shrugged, and in a sullen voice he said, “Not particularly.”

    Thieu grinned triumphantly.


    “Oh, hello, Lavie.” Death said as he loaded his belongings into the back of Zub’s new eighteen-wheeler.

    “Hi,” she said grumpily.

    “Hoy there, lovebirds,” jested Ran as he threw his Mallet ‘o’ Communism, as well as Ned the Surprisingly Chill Zombie.

    “I’m glad my opinion is so valued,” muttered Ned from the confines of the truck.

    “You have an opinion?” asked Ran.

    “I repeated multiple times that I don’t want to go.”

    “Oh well, nobody really cares,” shrugged Ran as he slammed the rear door down.

    “It’s true,” said Nobody with an aura of downcast.

    “Hurrah for proof!” decreed Death.

    “Harumph,” harrumphed Lavie harumphedly.

    “I believe you’re supposed to roll that ‘R’ a little,” intoned Death helpfully.

    “And the emphasis is on the ‘-rumph’, not the ‘ha-‘,” added Ran.

    Lavie glared at them both.

    “Why are you so upset?” asked Death.

    “I hate the number eighteen,” she growled. “Such a horrible number!”

    Death smiled appealingly, snapped his fingers, and a nineteenth wheel was added to the left side of the truck.

    “Works for me,” she shrugged as she climbed into the cab, the intent to drive imminent.

    “Uh oh,” gasped both Death and Ran simultaneously.

    Lavie whipped around at a blinding speed. “WAS THAT SEXISM?!” she demanded.

    Note; We here at Zub 2: Road Trip to the Funny Farm do not condone sexism in any way whatsoever, but merely use it for jokes. JUST KIDDING. Sexism isn’t funny, and neither are we.

    “Perhaps I can settle this dispute between you two,” offered Gordon the Groudon.

    No.” hissed Death. “You’re not in this chapter.”

    “Fine,” Lavie crossed her arms. “Do any of you males want to drive?”

    They both knew it was a trap, clearly.

    “I have to go…. help someone finish a cat,” Ran said meekly.

    Lavie turned expectantly to Death.

    “I, too, have a perfectly fathomable explanation!” he proudly proclaimed. “If you’ll just give me a second to, ah, remember it…”

    Lavie glared at the two, before freeing Ned from the storage area of the truck.

    “I’m free!” he cried.

    She then stuffed him in the cab, saying simply, “Drive.”

    She looked around, spirits lifted. “Say, where’s Zub?”

    Death shrugged, hoping she didn’t here the muffled yelps or the banging in one of the crates of the truck.

    Eventually they slowly realized that they could not go anywhere without the truck, so they all clambered in, noting how well furnished it was.


    “…With my brand-new Ocelotcorp Wristwatch!” finished Death.

    note; this advertisement has been paid for by the ocelot corporation

    “Don’t you need wrists for that?” asked Lavie.

    Death widened his eyes sockets and slumped against a wall. “I think I need some fresh air,” he choked.

    “Man, I wish I wasn’t a robot so I could breathe some of this Ocelotcorp-brand oxygen,” sighed Ran as a fly landed on him, causing him to die and instaneously be replaced.

    “I love how non-promotional we are,” nodded Lavie.

    “Good news, and bad news, everyone!” proclaimed Death, bursting in from a side door.

    “That was fast,” noted Ran dejectedly.

    “What’s the bad news?” asked Lavie as she reclined on the couch.

    “Oh, we’re being chased by some cultists,” Death explained nonchalantly. “But the good news is, I got plastic wrists so I can wear my wristwatch finally!”

    He showed them all his plastic wrists.

    They all admired them, admitting they were pretty sweet. The Ocelotcorp-brand wristwatch really completed the look.

    “Oh, wait, cultists?!” exclaimed Ran.

    Death paused for a moment, then said hesitantly, “I thought I already mentioned that part.

    Ran checked the previously typed words and couldn’t help but notice this fact was true. “After checking the previously typed words, I can’t help but notice this is true,” he said redundantly.

    “Aha, see!” Death exclaimed proudly.

    “See what?” Lavie asked from the couch, flipping a page on her magazine.

    “I have no idea,” said Death as he took a moment to survey her beauty; her perfect, light chocolate skin was covered in an ethereal white robe, with platinum-blonde hair sweeping down her shoulders.

    “Yo, Ned, make a pitstop at the nearest town!” Death called. “I’m seriously bored!”


    “Dorf Town?” asked Death. “That’s a bit redundant, no?”

    The passerby shrugged. “It is as it does,” he said, with a tone that suggested he was extremely… mellow. “Say, you got any food on you?” he asked, scratching his shaggy hair.

    Death looked him over. “Not for you…” he paused, squinting at the man’s name tag. “RICHARD!”

    Richard shrugged and then dully climbed into the truck.

    “….Right,” said Lavie after a few minutes. “Ned, would you be a Deerling and fill up the gas?” Ned the Surprisingly Chill Zombie shrugged in compliance.

    As soon as he stalked off, a figure wearing a bloodred cloak flew into the small clearing in the middle of the quiet village, riding on a Ledian. The Pokémon, contrary to its appearance of a docile ladybug, hissed and snarled at our heroes.

    “Hello, mates,” the figure said as he flashed a toothy grin through the shadows masking his face. “Do you know a chap named Gordon the Groudon?”

    The trio understandably shook their heads.

    “Oh, you dirty little liars,” chuckled the figure, drawing a Pokéball. “Musharna, destroy them all!” he cackled. Ledian mimicked his actions, right to his miniature salute following his toss.

    A small, pink elephant-looking Pokémon appeared, menacingly drifting a lazy haze out of a hole in its head that did not look natural.

    The worst part, by far, was that it was sleeping.

    “Why does it get a break but we don’t?!” cried Death, wiping away tears.

    “It’s not even a minor character!” spat Lavie.

    The Author, being the dashing devil of handsome he is, swooped in to explain it. “Lavie, Death, we’ve been over this; you don’t get any breaks until your life debt is passed.”

    “Awww,” they muttered, not unlike small children.

    “What about me?” Ran asked. “I don’t owe you my life.”

    The Author smiled, broadening his purple-coated arms. “You owe me your firstborn, of which you cannot give birth to. Therefore, I own you.” He gave a reassuring shrug. “It’s no fault of your own.”

    “Musharna, Psychic!” commanded the hooded figure, with a slight cackle that vaguely clued in the fact that he was evil. In case you have yet to figure it out, he was evil. Secretly, of course.

    “Togekiss, I command you to murder!” cried Lavie, releasing her own Pokémon.

    “I love that battle cry,” sighed Death.

    The dirt clearing they were standing on became terse with excitement as a crowd slowly began mulling about its edges, looking fir a deathmatch to spruce up the morning of doing questionable activities and eating cheesy snacks.

    “Togekiss, Aura Sphere!” yelled Lavie, as the winged chicken launched a blue sphere of destruction upon the Drowsing Pokémon, who managed to sleep regardless.

    “Did… did you even hear me?” asked the shady fellow tersely.

    Musharna let out a long snore as another barrage of Aura Sphere hit it, knocking it out. This isn’t to say it had any visible difference, as it was still sleeping through the unconscious. Its trainer sighed, indicating this wasn’t a first time occurrence. “Ledian, take the lead.”

    Ledian smiled wickedly, showing off several wicked fangs as it leaped forward, facing Togekiss.

    “Since when do Ledian have fangs?” asked Lavie as Ledian leapt forward menacingly.

    “Since…. ah, Bullet Punch!”

    Ledian barked ferociously, then slugged Togekiis as hard as it could. The resulting impact is comparable to hitting a large watermelon constructed solely out of platinum with a slinky.

    “That was sad,” noted Lavie.

    “We have more! Use your secret attack!” cackled the figure as a coup de grâce.

    The Togetic imploded on itself, creating a black hole.

    Death checked his small books about personal facts about people he knew that he kept on his person at all times. “Ah, look at this, how funny. We’re all allergic to the same stuff; fur, peanuts, macadamia nuts, and black holes!”

    “What a coincidence!” said Ran.

    “Life’s just weird like that,” sighed Lavie.

    “C’est la vie,” laughed Ran. Unfortunately, completely contrary it his actual intelligence, the intelligence required to understand that joke was beyond Lavie, Death, and even Ran.

    None of that mattered, however, as they had all been sucked into the black hole, which neatly closed itself back up.

    Death, Ran, and Lavie stepped out of the truck’s back garage door. “Whoa, what happened here?” asked Lavie, surveying the carnage.

    Death shrugged. “Good thing we sent out those duplicates beforehand.”

    “I shall have my revenge!” cried out the cultists, realizing he was defeated. “Does next Tuesday at around 3:00 sound good?”

    Death rubbed his skull. “Actually, I sort of have a cooking class around then.”

    The cultist tapped his chin with a pencil as he brought out his calendar. “I think I have some free time the following Thursday…”

    “I have Tae Kwon Do then,” admitted Ran.

    The cultist looked down at his calendar, flipping a few pages. “Ho hum. I suppose you’ll have to shoot me an e-mail as soon as you get some free time….” And with that, he was gone.

    “Let’s go to the supermarket,” said Death, walking off to a fairly modern-looking building. “ I need some flame, some more scythes, some flaming scythes for the nephews…”

    Ran shrugged and began following him. “I could use some more bread and eggs. And more Communism.”

    “Wait, did you ever say where Zub was?” Lavie asked after a pause.

    Zub burst out of his crate, gasping for breath.
  10. Rotomknight


    Where is Derpy Moos and Tango!

    By the way I liked your portrayal of derpy so much, that I actually raised a miltank along with the others in my soulsilver run. I named it Kung Moo like it knows, it cause Ran taught it.
  11. Zibdas

    Zibdas not bad

    Well, of the three chapters currently posted, Zub has spent one chapter tied up to be executed, one chapter impersonated and then smashed into a wall, and then he was trapped in a crate. He has it rough.
  12. Zibdas

    Zibdas not bad

    Chapter 5: Interlude

    “Hey guys,” said Reggae.

    “Who are you?” asked Ran as he looked up from the battle plan he, Zub, Lavie, Ned and Death were drawing in the passenger compartment of the truck.

    “A better question would be, ‘Who am I?’” chuckled Reggae.

    “I think the best question would be whose driving the truck,” Ned offered.

    “….Isn’t that your job?” asked Lavie cautiously.

    Ned blinked slowly, which was wholly unnecessary as he was a zombie. “I suppose it is, yeah.” he got up and slowly shuffled back to the cab.

    “See you in Marshmallow Hell!” cackled Death to the annoyed glare of Lavie.

    Ned poked his head back in. He blinked again, just to emphasize his point. The uncontrolled truck hit a bump, followed by the sounds of screaming, but Ned ignored these. “I made a deal,” he drawled. “I only have to do three years in Marshmallow Purgatory.”

    Death scratched his scalp. “Oh,” he quietly murmured… quietly.

    Lavie walked out for unfathomable reasons that are unfathomable to the human mind, of which is highly incomparable to the resonance of her footsteps as she walked away for an unfathomable reason as she unfathomably left. You think your mind is big? You think it’s brilliant? You think you’re some kind of genius or something? “I have a PhD in getting PhD s in smartness,” you may say. You may say that, you may also say blatant lies! Of which that is! Lies, that is, I mean. In comparison to whatever it was previously discussed, of which presently escapes my memory, your brain is like peanuts to the aforementioned topic, which I recall is her footsteps. Peanuts to footsteps. Is what your brain is. Comparatively. In a certain mindset, this was all quite extraordinarily long, and mostly rambling on the author’s part, but that is irrelevant. There was a point to all this, but such escapes the author’s mind as the previously mentioned thing that escapes the author’s mind like the point of the paragraph you have presumably read up to this point, which is not a fact we can deny nor confirm. Why you would read such rambling, that is beyond my fathoming. This paragraph, even from a casual glance of a casual observer with no such intent to read this, can clearly detect none of it makes any sense. Why this is so is what happens when the author is allowed to ramble endlessly. Speaking of which, I have run out of paper, and need to do my shopping soon…. Remind me that I need to get bread, milk, eggs, milked bread eggs, sugar, some flour, the souls from the orphanage they promised to me in exchange for a Dorito… I think that’s it. But on a higher note, it is revealed to me why this paragraph exists, and it is to convey the fathomable unfathomable reason behind Lavie’s disappearance;
    She needed to use the restroom.

    “I got an A in woodshop class once,” Reggae noted.

    “I guess you could say you nailed it!” laughed Ran.

    “Yes, you could,” said Death. “But how does that pertain to anything?”

    “Never mind,” said Ran in a huff. “You woodn’t get it anyway.”

    “What are you doing.”

    Ran scowled. “I must just have to drill the idea into your thick skull.”

    Lavie walked in. “What’s with all the cutting remarks?”

    “Not you too!” groaned Death.

    “I saw what you did there.” giggled Ran.

    “I could never get board of these puns,” said Lavie, giving her grin that would make any sane person lock her up. Zub was not in the room, so no one did anything.


    “Do you suppose they’re up to anything?” Ned asked chilly as he moved his pawn, capturing Zub’s rook.

    Zub shook his head, blocking out the screams of pain coming from Death.

    Ned looked away from the game to adjust the searing wheel a little bit. Upon noticing his tofu burgers were now cooked to perfection, he turned it off and twisted the steering wheel a bit “Me neither,” he shrugged.

    Zub moved his bishop forward, capturing his queen.

    “Lettuce and grilled asbestos,” he swore.


    “How can we keep such plank faces while doing this?” asked Ran with a warped smile.

    “I think it’s oakay, quite honestly,” giggled Lavie as she writhed in giddiness.

    “I’ll pay you a dime to stop!” said Death steely.

    They both shut up instantly.

    “I’ll pay you a piece of string to stop…. not stop,” said Reggae easily.

    “Son of a birch, this is fun!” laughed Ran.

    “The censors won’t like that one,” Lavie said, with a hint of concern. “Maple we should put more thought into our words.”

    “What are you doing?!” hissed Death. “I’ll give you a button and half a graham cracker to stop!”

    Dead silence.

    Reggae smiled. “I’ll give you half a rubber band, a chewed up wad of gum, and a stamp to go keep going!”

    Thistle be so fun!” Lavie bubbled.

    “We’re just branching off at this point,” Ran said easily.

    “Why are you so rich?!” lamented Death.

    “These puns are just a cut above,” swooned Reggae, stroking his Oddish, and, rather strangely, appeared to be sniffing it. The red in his eyes, which had been slowly dispelling over the last twenty four hours, appeared in full bloom.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Many more horrible puns later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

    Death sat on the back of the truck’s roof, long after everyone had fallen asleep after the storm of puns. He sat there, silently, thinking to himself. Judging. Silently, if I neglected to mention that. The worst kind. He watched the landscape go by, contemplating life, ironically.

    “Hey there!” beamed Ran. This scared Death so much he leapt out of shock. Unfortunately, the truck was still moving forward, and so he got a faceful of ground. A moment later, he teleported back to his previous position.

    “Sorry,” said Ran.

    Death shrugged. “Not the first time it’s happened tonight.”

    “So.” Ran shuffled awkwardly, then noticed how quiet and contemplative Death had become. “Girl trouble?”

    “What?! No!” Death exclaimed, blushing somewhat. “I’m a dude!”

    To emphasize, he slapped Ran across the face, leaving some corpses behind.

    “Not what I meant,” sighed Ran wistfully, as he looked across the wide open praries, the magnificent desert, the lush forests, the sea, a cactus with a sombrero, and the tall mountains.

    All of which was burning.

    “Look!” gasped Ran. That cactus… or maybe it’s an ocelot? is wearing a sombrero!”

    Death squinted. “That cactus/ocelot is kinda cool,” he noted. “So, what did you mean?”

    “Troubles wooing Lavie?”

    Death blushed furiously once more, a fact masked by the darkness. Or it was, had there been any darkness, which was gone due to the aforementioned fires.

    “Ca you help?” he asked quietly.

    “Well, let’s put it into a metaphor,” said Ran, waving his hands for emphasis. “Let’s say you two are like… the ocelot/cactus. And the sombrero is Nob.”

    “What’s he got to do with it?” asked Death curiously.

    Ran blinked in surprise. “He doesn’t.”

    Death nodded. “I see,” he lied.

    “Do you?”


    “Good. Me neither. I’d hate to have to be jealous.” Ran paused to collect his thoughts. “So, you are the ocelot/cactus, and Zub is the sombrero…”

    “I thought Nub was the sombrero.

    “Did I say Nob? I meant Zub.” Another pause. “Or at least, that’s what I’m led to believe, but I’m certainly not a reliable witness. Anyway, you are covered with spines, which each relate to one of your cousins….”

    “I’m an orphan,” Death said helpfully.

    Ran blinked. “Irrelevant.”

    Death nodded. “So, what you’re saying is….” Another pause. “Actually, I admit, I have no idea what you were saying.”

    Ran shrugged. “May I continue?” This solicited a nod. “Good. So, you’re like Reggae. Not really, but the ocelot/cactus is, so that’s that.”

    “We’re nothing alike,” said Reggae in a shocking moment of comprehension as he appeared from nowhere. . “I come from a rich family, and he’s allergic to macadamia nuts.”

    “Good point,” ceded Death.

    “I’m not sure what I was telling you…” Ran said, tapping his chin, lightly, so as not to kill himself. “I bet there was a point. Somewhere.”

    Death shrugged and ate a tortilla chip.

    “Oh, hey, the land is on fire,” noted Ran.

    Then it settled in,

    “Holy [lettuce and grilled euphemisms], that is such a [lettuce and grilled exclamatory phrase], how the [lettuce and grilled inquisition] did we not notice that?!”

    Death looked around “Notice wha- OH MY [lettuce and grilled deity]!”

    “What’s with the censors?” asked Ned.

    “Oh, hello!” said a pleasant but disembodies voice that was filled with both malice and sincerity.

    “Hadeeeees,” whined Ran. “You don’t appear yet.”

    “I’m not?”

    “No, you’re not,” said the Author as he appeared.

    Hades remained silent. If he had a body, he would probably be grumpy. I think.

    “Hades,” the Author said sternly. “Look at me.”

    He did so, though it was hard to tell. “It’s hard to tell, since that infernal angel killed me…”

    “Infernal angel?” asked Death. “Isn’t that a tad… oxymoronic?”

    “Ironic considering you yourself are from [lettuce and grilled location] yourself.”

    “Hades, do you want to get a donut?” asked the Author.

    “Yum!” replied Hades gleefully.

    “Someone get Hades a donut!” the Author yelled as the two walked off into the ethereal plane of nonexistence.

    “I think we’re about done here,” yawned Death.

    “Except the land is still burning,” pointed out Ran.

    They heard a terrible roar.

    Then they heard Linux users.

    Then they heard the terrible roar again.

    “Community service, here we come!” said Ran.
  13. Rotomknight


    That was a lllllllllllllllllllllooooooooonnnnnnnngggggggg.............................
    paragraph. Yay! The greek god of H-E-double hockey sticks/ land of heck are mentioned! Pg-13 means you can swear as much as you like! Not the F-
    "Watch the rating Rotomknight!"
  14. Zibdas

    Zibdas not bad

    Actually! PG-13 is allotted one of the high curse words like the F word or the D word.

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