mcawesome, humor, funny.

The Battlefloor Erupts G.I. Joes meet Transformers in deadly toy on toy combat.

Pt. 3, War on the Floor 1

by Dave McAwesome

R. O. C. K. Rockrockrock! Welcome to Thunderdome! Two men enter! Then a bunch more enter. And some robots. One man/robot leaves! Bust a deal, face the wheel!

Now that I've used my monthly allotment of exclamation points, it's time to fight, fight, fight.

"Look Destro," Cobra Commander sighed, "all I'm saying is, if the Baroness picked you over me that's fine. I just want to hear her say it."

Destro winced, "Don't do this to yourself, man. Let it go. What can I say? She's hot for me."

Destro: Let her go, man. Let her go.
"Let her go, man. Let her go."

Cobra Commander continued to review the troops as he grilled the arms dealer. "I just don't see you two together. Baroness and I...we were made for each other."

Destro laughed. "You don't know what you're dealing with. Made for each other? Underneath my iron mask is the tongue of a champion."

"She was my first!" Cobra Commander screamed as he stumbled off to the ammo dump for a good cry. The battle was on.

Optimus Prime drew first blood, running over Beach Head and dragging his corpse across the carpet. He suffered major blunt trauma, shattered ribs and severe rug burns. Meanwhile, Uglyface manned the tank. It was the biggest vehicle on the field--er, floor, and Team Joe's best chance for victory. It fired and turned Huffer to slag. Pulling at the yoke, Uglyface moved the tank into position for another shot. He backed up over Bumblebee in the process, turning the Volkswagen into a flatter, less stylish Volkswagen.

Jetfire: Autobot or Veritech fighter?Team Cybertron was reeling. Unless they stopped that tank, it would pop them with its big gun one by one for a quick victory. Prime had to call in his secret weapon earlier than he expected. "Jetfire! Roll out!" he yelled. "I'm a plane, you stupid hick trucker," Jetfire replied. In strict accordance with Battlefloor rule #2 (no flying stuff), Jetfire transformed from plane into robot form and reduced Uglyface and the Joe tank to an Erector set project. His plasma rifle recharged, Jetfire turned and melted Destro's face. "Yes!" shouted Prime. "Yes!" whispered Cobra Commander. "For the Baroness!" He signaled to Rock'n'Roll on the Joe Series 1 motorcycle. Rock'n'Roll popped the clutch and screeched towards the Transformer front lines. Pulling donuts and wheelies, it was a sight to behold. The roar of the 250cc engine. The helmetless rider scoffing at danger, his hair whipping in the wind. The bugs slapping wetly against his teeth at 60mph. Jetfire leveled his rifle and turned the bike into a two-wheeled explosion of death. Yes, Rock'n'Roll died, but he died awesomely.

He died, but he died awesomelyBlack clouds loomed for Team Joe (Team DRECC, as Cobra Commander preferred it be called). Jetfire loomed over the battlefloor. Like a black cloud. Looming. He loomingly lowered his looming plasma rifle with a looming glower as he prepared to loom. Joes and Cobras scattered for cover...cover from the loom to come. But the black clouds in this metaphor parted as Jetfire received a transmission from the stars. Prime kinked his head to the side. "Oh dear," he muttered. Jetfire had never really fit in with the Autobots. His smooth gait, hard to place accent, and Voltron posters over his bunk set him apart from the traditional car-based Autobots like Jazz and Mirage. And that Macross logo--what was that about? Jetfire, Prime realized, was from Robotech, not Cybertron. The transmission finished and Jetfire turned to the Autobot leader. "I have to go," he said solemnly. "I know," said Prime. "Roll out." "Jesus, dude, I'm a goddamned jet," Jetfire shook his head. He quickly transformed into a Veritech fighter and flew off to fight the Zentradi menace. Mirage watched Jetfire soar towards the sun/ceiling lamp. His face turned slick with oily tears as he whispered softly, "I'll always love you."

Jetfire was gone, and previously hidden robo-love made things a little more awkward, but Team Joe was in trouble. The tank was gone, Rock'n'roll's mustache was badly singed, Cobra Commander was doodling "Mrs. Baroness Commander" on his battle maps. Ugly stuff.

Optimus Prime pressed the offensive. "Soundwave! Roll out!" "He's a boombox, chief. He doesn't have wheels," Jazz implored. But it didn't matter. Rock cares not for wheels nor the painful sting of battle. Frumble jumped inside Soundwave. "Hit me baby," Soundwave spat. Mirage reached towards the play button but hesitated, "I also have a mix tape I never got to give to Jetfire. Maybe we could play that instead." Jazz shoved him out of the way, pressed play and amped up the volume: "Dunh dunh dunh dunh Motorin! What's your price for flight?"

"Sweet jeebus," Snake Eyes gagged, his first words in years. "Night Ranger! We're doomed!" How could Team Joe withstand the pure, bass-thumping power of Night Ranger? They froze, unable to resist the urge to bob their heads to the hard, driving beat. But one man did resist: Roadblock. "I've got a license to ill in full effect, y'all." Roadblock kicked it old school with a fresh beatbox. All those who heard it agreed it could only be described as "dope." Then he cut in with a little freestylin. Jazz turned up the volume on Soundwave. Suddenly, Roadblock was freestylin to a Night Ranger rhythm. It was odd and somewhat unsettling, but when Soundwave EQed out Jack Blades' vocals, it kinda worked. They stopped in unison. "Let's cut this, yo." Roadblock, Soundwave and Frumble left to form Rap-o-tron 5000. One of their tracks appeared on the soundtrack for Aliens 7: The Musical.

Roadblock rockin the sure shot
You can't. And you won't. And you don't stop.
Roadblock's rockin the sure shot.

It was a calculated military stratagem. Roadblock had taken out two Transformers with a single phat rhyme. Optimus Prime had to counter with something more calculated, more devious, more better. When in doubt, said war guru Sun Tzu, go with dinosaurs. "Grimlock! Rol--... It's dinner time!" Prime shouted. Grimlock charged Team Joe and began to gorge. The Crimson Guardsman went down easily.

Me Grimlock eat
Me Grimlock eat nancy-boy in starched uniform.

Sgt. Slaughter, in a surprise move, leaped into Grimlock's jaws. "Chew on this, Grimmy! My abs are so solid, you'll break a tooth." And he did. But the rest sawed through Slaughter's body like it was cream cheese. He was a little gamey, but Grimlock's robotic body didn't have taste buds. Or a tongue.

Up next: part 4, Endgame. Who can stop tongue-less Grimlock?
Or go back to the main War on the Floor page.

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