Contents Warning: There be sillyness in them thar hills!
Music: Jaques Brel.
Author's Note: Well, since Vinnie made me promise to never slash him, so the only way I'll ever get to write him would be in one of my fairy tails. It was either this or Snow White. **giggle**
Disclaimer: Oops, silly me, did I say they were mine? I didn't? Good, then I didn't lie. ;-) Throttle, Modo, Vinnie, Stoker, carbine, Harley and Rimfire belong to the creators of BMFM, whoever they are. All the SL characters belong to Decembergirl. But everyone else is mine. I made no money off this and I don't think I ever will. Bummer. ;-)
Once upon a time, on a planet far, far away, there lived a plutarkian female.
One day, she had four babies. Actually, she distinctly remembered only
having three, but she figured she must've missed something amidst all the
screaming, puffing and pushing.
She went to the beds of each of her boys, picked them up, sniffed at them and named them.
She picked up the first boy. He was long, but slim and looked like he
had some brains at least, a rarity for a plutarkian. She sniffed
at him and called him 'Camembert'.
Then, she picked up the second boy, a short, crazy-looking [even for a plutarkian] thing. She sniffed at him and called him 'Brie'.
Next, she picked up the third boy, who was extremely fat and made a face like he owned the whole planet. She sniffed at him and called him 'Limburger'.
And lastly, she picked up the fourth boy. This one didn't look like a normal plutarkian. Instead of green, he was white, instead of smooth and slick skin, he had fur and then there were those ridiculous big, round things at the side of his head. But the worst thing was: he didn't smell!
She called the boy 'Vincent', which is Plutarkian for 'odourless' and
decided to raise him as any normal child.
After all, it didn't matter what a Plutarkian looked like and smell could be bought in bottles. As long as the boy was greedy, ignored his conscience [although it has been doubted that Plutarkians actually have a conscience] and thought of nothing but: "Me, mine, all of it, now!", he'd be all right.
Unfortunately, Vincent wasn't a good plutarkian. He constantly asked
his teachers if it wasn't wrong to take all the land and resources away
from other people who needed them, just because the plutarkians had wasted
all their own.
He was on the receiving end of many smacks on the head, was bullied around because of his looks and lack of smell and had to double first grade five times.
After the fifth time, his parents were fed up with him and sent him to live with his brother Limburger, on Earth. Brie was there too, but he was so crazy no-one in the family wanted to have much to do with him.
Limburger had two employees, Greasepit and Karbunkle. When they first
saw Vincent, they asked him: "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
They were afraid someone would steal their cushy job, so they asked Vincent what he was good at.
"Can you boss goons around, steal all you can and destroy all you can't steal?" Greasepit asked.
"Um Well, I could, but I don't want to. What's the use of that?"
"Can you invent menacing machines, treatcherous traps or powerful potions?"
"Invent? As in 'use my brains'?"
"Then shut up and let us do our jobs!"
So Vincent shut up and let them do their 'jobs'. He started wandering
around the building and came across a red motorcycle. Limburger had stolen
it, stored in in a room and then forgotten about it.
Vincent instantly liked the bike [and likewise] and raced it to his brothers office.
"Hey, bro! Look what I can!"
"Vincent!" Limburger roared, "Do you think that is something to be proud of? Can you me money with it? No! Can you collect resources with it to ship back to Plutark? No! Look at me! I'm succesful! Do you think I made all that money by riding a bike? Look at our brother Camembert. Do you think he's become as succesful as he is by riding a bike? No! Now, go outside, leave that infernal thing somewhere and don't come back until you've gotten some sense into that thick skull of yours!"
So Vincent rode off into the city of Chicago. He rode and rode and rode
until his fuel tank was empty and he had to stop at a garage.
He knocked on the door, and a young woman opened. "Yes?"
"Um, Could I buy some gas, please?"
"Sure, come on in and help yourself."
Vincent entered the garage, where he suddenly saw two figures hanging
around. They were about 6 feet tall, muscled, and had bikes.
Vincent expected them to chase him away because he was ugly and different, but they just pounded him on the back, called him 'bro' and let him ride with them.
So our ugly mouseling turned out to be a studly mouse with an attitude and two bros. They kicked his brothers' butts all the way back to Plutark, kicked Camembert off Mars and rode free ever after.
"I told you before, it's a compliment. Read the last paragraph, for goodness sake!"
"All right, that does it. Now I am going to write Snow White."