From: DMG DeMosr Date: Thu, 25 Dec 1997 10:05:26 EST To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com Subject: Beavis and Butthead XOVER: A Cool Night in Toronto... 1 of 2 Warning: I haven't the vaguest notion of where this came from. It is not intended for the young, the weak-hearted, the conservative, the old, Republicans, intelligensia, etc. But if somewhere in your soul is a sick, demented puppy, read on.... LEGAL CRAP..... In the beginning, God created heaven and hell, and uh, other stuff. And it was cool. And God filled earth with cool stuff, like naked chicks with thingies, who didn't give a damn that they were naked, and who did it all the time. But then this guy who sucked came along and screwed up the whole deal, and some of the cool stuff started to suck. And God made other dudes, and these dudes took words (words suck), and made cool stories out of them. But the guy who sucked said, writers can't use other writers' stuff to make money, or like own other writers' stuff, or nothing. So the world of bloodsucking creatures of the night aren't mine. They belong to a bunch of guys that used to be cool, but now suck, because they killed all the bloodsuckers and stopped making cool stories out of sucky words. And Beavis and Butthead aren't mine, either and huh, huh, disclaimers suck... A LIKE, COOL NIGHT IN TORONTO, OR SOMETHING PART ONE by Darrel E. Murphy, Jr. ----- HN HEN HEE - THIS IS GONNA BE COOL David Van Driesen wiped the dirt on his hands on his tie dye peace sign tee shirt and finished cleaning them with a handy wipe, before settling in front of a roaring fire in the woods outside Toronto. Soft night breezes wafted through his shoulder length hair, and as far as he was concerned, all was right with the world. "Hen hen hee." "Huh huh huh huhuhuhuh." "Pass the T.P." "No way, dillweed, get your own." "Oh, yeah. Umm..." Van Driesen shook his head as he prepared three hot dogs for roasting in the fire. He'd hoped this field trip to the Great North woods would inspire in the boys an appreciation of the wonders of Nature. But all they seemed to spend all their time doing was looking for ways to destroy it all. Beavis and Butthead emerged from the woods, trailing toilet paper behind them. Butthead was wearing his usual "AC/DC" tee shirt, and "Metallica" was emblazoned on the shirt Beavis wore. "Is everything back there okay, boys?" Butthead grunted. "Huh huh. Back there." Beavis chortled. "Uh, yeah. We're regular." The skin on Van Driesen's forehead wrinkled. "Did you take care of your wastes properly? Hygiene is important, you know. Especially here in the wilds." "Don't worry," Butthead said. "We wiped." "Hmm," Van Driesen hummed noncommittally, handing each of the boys a stick with a hot dog on the end. He turned back to the fire, holding his own above the flames. Butthead turned to Beavis, extending his stick. "Hey, Beavis, pull my weiner." Beavis' mouth turned down severely. "No way, buttmunch." He slid around to the other side of the fire. "Sicko son of a bitch." "Now, Butthead, behave yourself. Let's finish our hot dogs, then I'll treat you to a song I made up just last week." Van Driesen tossed the last bite of his hot dog in his mouth and reached behind the log he'd laid down as a seat for his guitar. Butthead quivered, his face puckered in revulsion. "Uh, is this gonna suck?" It did, as far as Beavis and Butthead were concerned. David Van Driesen was a child of Woodstock - it showed in his taste in music. From his mouth poured forth the quintessential sixties' folk song. Van Driesen strummed the final chord with regret, having enjoyed the performance thoroughly. He stared at Beavis and Butthead in turn, noting their shocked, frozen expressions, and shrugged. "How about a little dessert, boys?" "Um, desert?" Visions of sand dunes swam in the air. "No. dessert, Butthead. You know, something sweet that usually ends your meals?" Beavis grinned. "Uh, I usually eat the sweet stuff first." Van Driesen set a bowl of berries in front of Beavis and Butthead. "These are wild berries. I picked them myself this afternoon." Beavis picked one up, sniffing it. His expression was of dubious disbelief. "Think of it as Nature's candy, Beavis." "Ohhhh." Beavis popped the berry in his mouth. He chewed on it experimentally for a few seconds, grunting intermittently. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide. He reached into the bowl, taking another berry. Then another. And another. "Uh, Beavis, not so fast," Van Driesen advised. Beavis ignored him, and started grabbing the berries by the handful, spilling them down his throat in rapid succession. He quickly escalated to grabbing the bowl itself, tipping it back and swallowing the berries that poured freely from it. Berry juice dribbled from his mouth, and he began quivering uncontrollably. His head began to shake until his features were a blur. Butthead began snickering. "You did it now, dumbass." Van Driesen decided Butthead didn't really mean to insult him, and tried to reach for Beavis. Beavis slapped away Van Driesen's offered hand, and pulled his shirt over his head. "I AM CORNHOLIO! I NEED T.P. FOR MY BUNGHOLE!" He took off for the tree line. Van Driesen took off after him, calling for him to stop and muttering "Ohmigod" over and over again. Butthead stared at the retreating pair. "Huh huhuhuh huh huhhuh. That was cool." Moonlight caressed the land, creating frightening silhouettes in the curves of Lucien LaCroix's face as he lifted it from the ravaged throat af a once beautiful woman. His face seemed carved from marble, both because of its hardened look and its paleness. His eyes gleamed, not from the moon, but from an eerie inner light. His blood-drenched mouth formed a perverse grin, his tongue flicking over massive canines. He was much more than the myth of Dracula, for he was real. He ran a finger over a trace of blood that had escaped his mouth and sucked it from his finger, shivering in the ecstasy. He was thrilled by the hunt, a pleasure he rarely enjoyed in this accursedly modern world. A boy came crashing through the thick brush, chattering and waving his arms before him, like a drummer who has lost his sticks. "I AM THE ALMIGHTY BUNGHOLE! BUNGHOLIO!" LaCroix felt his hair stand on end. The boy's very voice set his whole body on edge. "What?!" He hissed in contemptuous fury. "I AM THE GREAT CORNHOLIO! I NEED T.P. FOR MY BUNGHOLE! YOU WILL GIVE ME T.P. - NOW!!! ARE YOU THREATENING ME?!" LaCroix was taken aback by this creature's adacity. "What - if I am?" He glared at the pathetic creature, a scrawny wisp of a boy, his pompadour styled blond hair mashed down by the neckline of his tee shirt that had been raised above his head. This self styled 'Cornholio' held his arms above his head, but not as a sign of surrender. LaCroix felt eerily as though he stood before a powerful, malevolent force incarnate. Cornholio cackled evilly, gibbering in a faintly south of the border accent. "Prepare to die! You shall drown in your own blood! The streets will flow with the blood of the non-believers!" he proclaimed. "The Mother of all wars has begun!" He kicked LaCroix's shin. LaCroix drew himself to his full, imposing height, snarling and displaying his fangs. It was only then that Cornholio began to dimly realize he was up against something more than your average buttmunch. "So it's war, then? A pitifully short war, I imagine." LaCroix reached for Cornholio. Cornholio raised his arms above his head, screaming. "Aughhhh!" "Butthead?" Butthead was busy with a burning branch, chasing small animals. He swung the blazing club, knocking a squirrel from a tree limb. The creature rose on its rear legs, waving its forelegs, almost a parody of an angry man raising his fists at grave injustice. "Uh huhu huh huh huhuhuhuh..." "Butthead, we need to find Beavis. He may - Oh my God!" Van Driesen grabbed a blanket and started beating at the mini conflagration Butthead had started. Butthead stood at the edge of the campsite, having dropped the crude torch carelessly as he watched Van Driesen's heroic efforts to save Canada's forests. "Huh huhuh huh huh... uh, hey Beavis. Uh, Beavis? Oh, yeah. Huh huh huh." "Butthead! I need water!" Van Driesen screamed. "So? Uh huh huh." Van Driesen said, "Hurry Butthead! I need water to wet down these blankets!" "Um, no you don't. Like, Beavis wets his blanket without water." Butthead swirled a pot of herbal tea that Van Driesen had brewed in the fire. He poured half of it into the fire, creating a pungent cloud of steam. "I guess this will work, if you can't uh, huh huh, huhuh..." Van Driesen poured the tea over a pair of blankets out of desperation. "Butthead, take this blanket over there and use it to smother the flames! Hurry!" Butthead slapped the wet blanket against a burning bush a couple of times. "This sucks." He dropped the blanket - and his shorts. Hiss! Van Driesen had managed to put out his flames, and turned to catch Butthead peeing on the bush. "Very, uh, creative thinking, Butthead." He grimaced as the stench of boiled urine struck his nostrils. At least the fires were out. "Huh huh huh huhhuhuhuh, that was cool. I put the fire out with my hose. Huh huhuh huh...." He pulled his shorts back up, to Van Driesen's relief. "Come on, Butthead. Beavis took off in that direction." Butthead paused his laughter momentarily. "Uh, okay." "Aughhhh!" LaCroix had curled up protectively in a ball. "Stop that! I haven't even touched you!" "YOU CANNOT TOUCH THE ALMIGHTY BUNGHOLE! MY WRATH SHALL FALL ON YOU AND ALL YOUR CHILDREN! AUGHHHHH!" LaCroix sprung at Cornholio, grabbing his arms and pinning him to the ground. An explosion of high pitched, rapidly fired epithets assaulted his ears, causing him, one of the mightiest creatures on earth, to cringe. "Stop screaming! You little cretin..." He raised his head as the dim cries of others pierced the din. Gritting his teeth in frustration, LaCroix grabbed his adversary's head, taking on abuse as arms and legs pummeled his body. "You will forget what you have seen here. You never saw me..." Cornholio rammed his knee into LaCroix's crotch. The vampire shed a lone blood tear, and continued to try his attempt to hypnotize Cornholio, in a high pitched voice. "...tonight. Remember...nothing." "Um, what?" "Remember nothing." "Um, what? Hen hn hee." Cornholio frowned. "Where's the T.P. gone? I must have T.P. for my bunghole!" "Forget about the T.P., you idiot!" "No way! There is no future without T.P! My people have but one bunghole. Give me T.P., or dieeeee!" "You will sleep now. When you wake up...there will be a mountain of T.P. for you, and you will remember nothing." "Um, okay." Suddenly, Cornholio became very limp. The trees rustled as others drew near. LaCroix turned his eyes to the safety of the sky, and launched himself into the wind. "Beavis!" Van Driesen and Butthead burst through the dense foliage. Van Driesen lifted the sleeping boy's head, but could not wake him. "Whoa!" Butthead shouted from a few yards away. "It's like, a dead chick!" Van Driesen settled Beavis/Cornholio down to the earth, and checked the body. "Oh my God! Let's get Beavis out of here, Butthead. As soon as we get back in town, I'll call the police. Butthead, what are you doing to that woman? Butthead, stop that! BUTTHEAD!" Next up: In a Congressional hearing, Butthead cuts through the red tape, and Beavis cuts the cheese... Stay tuned. ----------------------END PART ONE----------------- From: DMG DeMosr Date: Thu, 25 Dec 1997 10:05:46 EST To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com Subject: Beavis and Butthead XOVER: A Cool Night in Toronto... 2 of 2 Warning: I haven't the vaguest notion of where this came from. It is not intended for the young, the weak-hearted, the conservative, the old, Republicans, intelligensia, etc. But if somewhere in your soul is a sick, demented puppy, read on.... The disclaimer was in part one. If you wanted to read it, you should have done it then. Dumbass. Huh huh huhuhhuhuhuhuhuh.... A LIKE, COOL NIGHT IN TORONTO, OR SOMETHING PART TWO ----- HN HEN HEE - THIS IS GONNA BE COOL Nicholas Knight - vampire homicide cop - nearly leaped out of his chair as a large brown paper bag landed on the stack of papers he'd been wading through. His eyes shifted in his otherwise motionless face to meet those of his partner, the irrepressible Donald Schanke, who was grinning like a baboon at the moment. "Check it out, partner! Primo, A-1 super-delicious jelly doughnuts! Get 'em while they're hot!" Nick lifted the bag carefully with two fingers, like a piece of pungent refuse. "No thanks, Schank. Maybe later." "Knight, Schanke." Nick looked up at Captain Cohen, the Japanese-Canadian who ran the 96th precinct - and she never let anyone forget it. "I'm still waiting for the Wilkins' report." "Right, Captain," Schanke acknowleged. "We're working on it right now." "Uh huh," she said, her eyelids drooped as a sign of her disbelief. She eyeballed the paper bag. "What's in the bag?" "Jelly doughnuts." "Yeah? Are they fat-free?" Schanke stammered. "Uh, well..." Cohen smiled thinly and took one from the bag. "That's okay." The smile faded. "I have an American teacher and two of his students in the interrogation room. They said they found a body in the woods. Parker and Case are checking the area out. I want you two to talk to the witnesses." Nick spoke for himself and Schanke. "We'll get right on it." "Good. And Nick, the boys seem to be quite upset from the incident. They're acting a bit, uh, strange." "That's all right with my man here, Captain," Schanke interjected. "'Strange' is S.O.P. for Nick." Nick managed to convey a sarcastic thanks with just a look. The teacher looked up with relief as Nick and Schanke stepped into the interrogation room. Two boys were busying themselves with pencils kept for note taking, playing mock sword fighting. "Uhem," Schanke said. The boys lowered their "swords," and grunted laughter spewed from their throats. "I'm Detective Don Schanke. This is my partner, Detective Nick Knight." "Huh huhuh. He's scanky," the brown haired boy said. His blond-haired friend grinned. "Hen heh hen. Yeah. And he hangs out with Nick at Nite." The teacher rose and extended his hand. "I'm David Van Driesen, and these are my students." He introduced Beavis and Butthead. "Uh, so you dudes are, uh, cops, or something?" Butthead asked. "Yeah," Beavis added. "'Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you?'" "Huh huh huhuhhuh. I saw that last week. 'COPS' kicks ass." Van Driesen blushed slightly. "You'll have to excuse the boys, officers. Beavis and Butthead have... special problems." "Yeah, they're 'special', all right" Schanke mumbled to Nick. "So, what can you tell us about the body?" "Well," Van Driesen shrugged. "Beavis actually found the body." Nick turned to Beavis. "What do you remember, Beavis?" "Um, nothing." Beavis eyes became somewhat glazy. "I remember nothing." "Great," Schanke snorted. Nick was suspicious. "Why don't you see if Butthead and Mr. Van Driesen would like something to drink, Schanke?" Beavis and Butthead began laughing again. "Uh, maybe it would be a good idea to call me Don, Nick." Nick waited until Schanke had left with the teacher and his student. He turned back to Beavis, who occupied himself by picking his nose. He took a deep breath, and locked eyes with the troubled youth. "Tell me what you remember," he said, his voice echoing in the air between them. "Um, nothing." "You were with your teacher and your friend in the woods tonight?" Beavis snickered weakly. "Wood...hen heheh hen. Uh, I remember nothing." "Did someone tell you to say that?" "Um..." "Who told you to remember nothing?" "Uh, a buttmunch. Hen hen hee-he-he had like, big teeth, 'Uh the better to eat you with dearie!' And he promised me T.P." Beavis frowned. "But like, I don't remember any T.P. I remember nothing." "What did the, uh, buttmunch with big teeth look like?" "He had short hair, like Henry Rollins, but his was white. But he looked pissed off, just like Henry Rollins. And, uh, he like, had glowing red eyes. And he promised me T.P. and uh, that's about it. Nick leaned back and sighed. "LaCroix." LaCroix was sitting at the bar of the Raven, enjoying a champagne glass of "the house special," a delicacy found in no other club in Toronto. He smacked his lips in appreciation and sat the glass before his daughter-in-blood, Janette, a stunningly beautiful brunette he'd "brought across" in the tenth century. She refilled his glass with fresh blood. "A good vintage, my dear." Nick slid onto the stool next to him. "LaCroix. We need to talk." "I always have time for you, my dear boy. Shall I get you something to drink?" Nick noticed Janette's amused look. "No. You've been hunting." It was as much an accusation as a statement. "What can I say, Nicholas. I've been a bad boy." Beavis' rambling of the 'COPS' theme echoing unbidden in Nick's mind. He shook his head. "It's not like you to leave evidence behind." "Ah, the girl in the woods. I must assume YOU unearthed the boy's hidden memories?" "Enough to identify you. So, it seems you, LaCroix, are the one to endanger our kind this time." "Hardly. I returned to the scene, of the 'crime'..." he smirked, "...and removed the body for disposal. I trust you can take care of the necessary paperwork to make this 'disappear.'" "What choice do I have?" "None," LaCroix replied. "As usual, you have NO choice. Pity you won't accept that where your quest for humanity is concerned." Outside, Beavis and Butthead were walking the streets of Toronto. "Hey Butthead, do you think they have nachos in Canada?" "Uh, no. Canada sucks." "Yeah, hen hen hen hee. Uh, but Canada does have 'nad' in the middle of it's name." Butthead considered this. "And it begins with 'can.'" "Yeah," Beavis agreed. "I could use the can right now. Using the can always gives me that SPECIAL feeling." "You mean like the time you lit a fart and set your butt on fire? That was cool." "No it wasn't. That sucked! I..." Beavis paused as a woman sauntered by, clad in strategically placed scanty leather. The boys stood agape, their eyes grown to the size of saucers. "Huh huhuhuhu huhuh, uh, come to Butthead." They began to follow her into the Raven. They stood at the entrance, entranced by the volume of semi-naked, dancing women. "Beavis," Butthead announced in a hushed voice, "we are in Heaven." LaCroix, glancing about, caught sight of Beavis. "What? Nicholas, YOU didn't bring THAT in here, did you?" Nick slipped through the crowd, grabbing Beavis and Butthead by the arm. "Where is your teacher, Mr. Van Driesen?" "I don't know," Beavis said. "I know nothing." He stared at LaCroix. "Um... I remember, uh..." LaCroix rose from the stool. "What?" he demanded. "Uh, nothing. Buttmunch. Henheheh." Butthead looked with obvious lust at Janette. "Huh huh. Hey, baby." Janette glared at both boys, gold tinting her eyes. Nick shook his head. "Janette, may I use your phone?" Beavis and Butthead slid into the vacuum left behind by Nick's hasty exit. Butthead lifted his hand and placed it on the one Janette had on the bar. "Wanna do it? Uh huhuhuhuh." Janette looked at LaCroix, who shrugged. She formed an exaggerated grin, flashing perfectly straight teeth. "Why don't you two come in the back room?" Beavis and Butthead froze, their eyese bulging. Janette led them to a door to the back, when Nick reappeared at the bar. He moved in front of them, perhaps faster than any mortal should have, but he was more than a bit concerned about Janette's intentions. "Your teacher will be here soon, boys. I want you to leave." "Uh, no," Butthead said defiantly. Janette leaned against Nick, whispering in his ear. "Let me kill them, Nick." She blinked sadly at his disapproving stare. "At least let me mangle them. One. I'll let you choose. I'm easy." Butthead chortled. "She wants it." Nick looked about in desperation. "Come with me, Beavis and Butthead. He looked back at Janette and LaCroix. "I'll get rid of them." "Ah, Nicholah, but permanently?" Janette asked. Her expression became a pout. "Sometimes your concern for these mortals is sickening." Nick led the boys out the door. Butthead leaned forward to talk to Beavis. "She was going to do it with us." "Yeah. This sucks." They brooded in silence until Van Driesen arrived at the club. "I honestly don't know how they got out of the hotel," the teacher apologized. "I suggest you take them back home." Nick released the boys to their mentor. "But the dead woman..." Nick stared into Van Driesen's eyes. "It's taken care of. You have no reason to stay in Canada. Go home... and take these two with you." Van Driesen stood mute for a second. "Okay, detective. It's been nice knowing you." He considered Nick as he retreated back into the club. "He looks very familiar. Woodstock? No, he's much too young..." BEAVIS AND BUTTHEAD ARE NOT ROLE MODELS... THEY'RE NOT EVEN HUMAN. THEY'RE CARTOONS. SOME OF THE THINGS THEY DO CAN GET YOU HURT, EXPELLED, ARRESTED - POSSIBLY DEPORTED. TO PUT IT ANOTHER WAY... ...DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME. HUHUHUHUHUH THAT WAS COOL................. **************************************************************** Okay, for those who lasted this long, I normally spend my time debating the merits of developing FTL tech as opposed to terraforming solar planets, learning other languages, like Japanese - "Toire wa doko des ka?" - playing chess, watching Forever Knight, Star Trek, working on programs to describe environmental properties of alien worlds, antimatter drives, blah blah blah.... Sometimes, you just gotta get stupid.