fandomhigh | Intergalactic Justice, Tuesday Period One

"Today, my little critters of learnitude, we finish our class with a GAUNTLET!"

Jim was appropriately gung-ho for the occasion. "This shop-- this DANGER SHOP has been set up with the defining laws of my universe. You must choose! Choose your weapons! Choose your enemy! And SAVE MY LOVELY BUTTERFINGERS OF JUSTICE!"

Jim coughed to clear his throat, then helpfully indicated the cardboard cut-out of an unusually attractive, bee-like woman all the way at the back of the Danger Shop. "Unfortunately," he continued, "My sidekick, Peter, couldn't be here today to give you the skinny on the second assignment. I will just have to take his place and hope the Great Worm Spirit forgives me!"

He held up a little cardboard mask of an anthromorphic dog up to his face. "Hi, class!" he said, in a high-pitched voice, "Fighting peril and righting wrongs in the galaxy is kind of a big, um, terrifying job, but it's really nothing compared to the dangers of, uh, haggis. See, haggis is... the heart... lungs... and liver... of a sheep... boiled in its own--"

Theatrically, Jim choked up a little. Then pulled the mask away from his face. "Sometimes," he said, with ceremony, "You just can't avoid haggis. Now! Get to it, my little chums!"

[ ~~wait for the~~ ocd up! ]

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"I'm not so wee," Turtle protested. "I'm sixteen! And you better be thankful that you don't have shins if you don't stop being evil or whatever."

She checked to see, however, if Number Four had shins, or, at best, shin-equivalents.

Number Four had shins. They were big and meaty and suited the rest of his big, meaty, vacant body.

"Now I'm sure ya think so," Bob said, "But from up here, everybody looks wee an' tiny. You go on and be a good surface dweller and be conquered."

Ugh. Meaty shins could be problematic.

But, she had given the goldfish fair warning. She promptly reached up to swat the bowl with her egg beater.

The cardboard water in the cardboard bowl managed to rock from side to side in a cardboardly manner. "Raise me up, Number Four, raise me UP!" Bob yelled, scrambling.

Number Four lifted him about five inches.

Not to be shown up by a cardboard fish in a cardboard bowl, Turtle took in a breath and added a little jump to complete her next thwap, hopefully.

"What do ya think that yer doi--"

Cardboard water spilled over the side of the bowl. "RAISE, NUMBER FOUR!"

"Number Four," Turtle said with a firm and determinant look up at the large, meaty cat, "I'll advise you kindly to not do that, unless you wish to become personally familiar with something we like to call 'collateral damage.'"

Number Four replied by staring at her blankly, with not a trace of autonomous thought in his head. "Don't talk to my feline," Bob said, sharply.

"Then tell your feline to lower you back down," Turtle stated back simply, "or repent from your evil, unjustice-like ways, or else. I mean it," she shook her egg beater menacingly; this, you see, was meant to hopefully be a diversionary tactic, "this is going to be your last warning, Fish."

"Ah don't take warnings from the likes of you, monkey feet," Bob drawled, confident now in his nice little perch up on Number Four's nice cardboard shoulder. "Don't make me set La Planeta de la Agua (ARRIBA!)'s attack forces on yerself."

"Monkey feet," Turtle snorted. "Interesting you should say that..."

And, with that, true to her warnings, she pulled her foot back and then swung forward, as hard as she could, smashing it into Number Four's poor shin.

Number Four's eyes bulged wide.

That was about the only reaction he had to that.

"Number Four, dispose of this child!" Bob declared, with verve.

Number Four's eyes continued to bulge, and that, again, was all he did.

See? Darn those problematic meaty shins! Turtle sucked in a breath, hating having a plan foiled in such a manner, and then let all her reservations go, hopping up repeatedly with as many whackings to the fishbowl that she could muster, and as quickly and fervently as possible.

The fishbowl jostled and jostled in all its cardboard glory, accompanied by the many offended demands that Bob continued to spout.

This went on for about a minute, when Number Four's bulging eyes suddenly closed, and he teethered backwards, falling hard onto the floor. The fishbowl, not being particularly 3D, simply flopped in an anticlimactic kind of way.

"A-ha!" Turtle jumped a little in victory, brandishing her egg beater proudly as her arms went up in celebration. "Behold, all who fall in their ill-founded investment in non-justice!"

She hopped over to where Number Four had fallen in an attempt to go and pick up the fishbowl and the fish therein, all the while reading Bob his Miranda Rights, so that she can properly put him to justice with a short jail sentence before a trial of his cardboard peers.

Which, although she knew she wouldn't actually have Bob later, she planned on reenacting in her room later because she was just that big of a nerd and it would be a lot of fun, besides.

Intergalactic Justice, Tuesday Period One

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Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish

Re: Pick an Opponent - Bob the Goldfish