- 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.” 

“Crackpot…” Mr. Elroy muttered under his breath. 

 

 

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.  

‘My part in this is almost over…almost…’ He kept reassuring himself as he gave instructions to Varyn, Dinobot, and Rattrap in the roomy upscale apartment where the three would be staying. 

“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. 

**** 

And the moral of this story? 

  1. If you’re going to party with gay pirates, make them leave their pets at home.

  1. Cyborg girls can get away with whatever they want because they’re hot.

  1. One should never, EVER, date either Varyn or Dinobot, or try to make either of them wear a dress.