MST3K Digimon Lemonade Too! By James Reinbold Chapter 1: A Tale of a Sister's Bitterness by Jade Diamond Chapter 2: Anti-Me: Sound and Sweat by Pretty Pretty Princess Chapter 3: Our Rainfall by DigistarDBZ Chapter 4: It's All My Fault by Goldstar44 Chapter 5: Through Sickness and Health by Angeteen Chapter 6: Terriermon's Unusual Day by Gabumatic Chapter 7: by Chapter 8: by Chapter 9: by Chapter 10: by (Doors open into the theater, where the next fanfic is already downloading. MIKE, TOM, and CROW enter and sit down.) >Our Rainfall MIKE: It's leaking through our ceiling. >by DigistarDBZ TOM (Earth, Wind, and Fire): You're a Digistar, no matter who you are! CROW: Oh, goodie, this has DBZ in it. A fanfic with twenty minutes of grunting and posing. >* * * * >(A/N: 2/16: I just realized that I completely forgot to add one of these things. ^^;; MIKE: A mouthless smiley and two semicolons? I can't see those bringing anything to any fanfic. >Well, the more and more I read this story, CROW: The harder and harder I threw up. >the more I was wondering that since Piedmon was getting all of the *ahem* attention from Myotismon, MIKE: A clown and a vampire. Thank you, fanfic. TOM: All we need now is a two-timing neo-Nazi stripper and we've got an episode of Jerry Springer. >I figured that I'd edit this story- just a little bit of an edit, but it's quite profound if you really think about it. TOM: Yes, the delete button is your lemon-writing friend. >Besides- I figured that the turned tables would make my sister happy. :) CROW: Writing porn for my sis gives my life meaning. >So read on, and see why I decided what I did.) MIKE: Massive damage to your cerebral cortex. We already know. >Ahh, rainy days... CROW: And Mondays always get me down. >they may seem dreary at first sight, TOM: And second sight, and third sight, and fourth sight, and fifth.... >but one has to age to realize just HOW beautiful they can be- MIKE: You gotta be old to appreciate the weather. CROW: Don't we all love dull, gray, mud-encrusted days? >water cascading down crevaces, leaves and various other places, TOM: Cascading down your dishes, leaving them spotlessly clean.... >the majesty of lightning as it hits ground, MIKE: And when the electricity goes out and you have to stumble around in the dark looking for candles - it's just gorgeous! >the noise emitted is enough to move even the hardest of hearts- like mine. CROW: But I'm going in for a triple bypass next week, so it won't be hard much longer. >I open my umbrella as I step out of the Citadel MIKE: Our narrator goes to school in South Carolina. >and down into the forests, looking around as I see various Digimon preparing for the upcoming deluge. TOM: Pairing off, boarding a funny-looking ship made of gopherwood.... >Poor souls. CROW: Every one a Jackie Gleason. >Even if I am a Virus of the Mega Level, I have to have SOME sort of sympathy for them. MIKE (Gilbert and Sullivan): You see in matters miserable, rained-out, and sympathetical, I am the Digi-model of a Virus Mega Level. >It's just the way things work. TOM: David Macauley wrote this. >It sprinkles a little, then the water started to fall from the heavens as it usually did. CROW: Just once I want the earth to rain on the sky. >I see the Digimon in the forest panic as the rain falls on them. TOM: They must have left the tops down on their cars. >I chuckle a bit, seeing as their organizational skills were FAR from perfect. CROW: I mean, they are NEVER going to make any money off this bake sale. >"Lord Piedmon?? Lord Piedmon!! Where are you??" I hear a familiar voice call from the trees. MIKE (Trees): How would you like it if someone picked something off of you? TOM: The trees talk to him, but he never listens to them.... >I turn my head, preparing to draw one of my swords if it was someone looking for a fight... CROW (Piedmon): I've got my charcoals and sketch pad ready. >But the one who stumbled out of the bushes was nowhere NEAR threatening...to me, of course. MIKE (Piedmon): He was closer to nauseating. >"Why, Myotismon... what brings YOU out to the forests? TOM (Myotismon): We've never actually met, so I thought I'd swing by and bring you a casserole. >You're soaked to the bone!" I ask, surprised at what had popped out. CROW: Whistle on the play, five yards penalty for tacky entendre. >He panted as if he had just finished running, his velvet uniform drenched in rainwater, clinging to his body and drooping in the process. MIKE: Can anything cling and droop at the same time? CROW: Which version of Myotismon is this? There's so many to choose from - Venom Myotismon, Malo Myotismon, Plain Vanilla Myotismon. TOM: I think this is Hint of Cinnamon Myotismon. >His bangs now seemed to stick to his face, water dripping off the edges of his mask and trimmings. MIKE: Myotismon comes with potatoes, corn, and a gravy boat. On Sundays he comes with a champagne brunch. >"I was out searching for the Crest of Light.. CROW (Myotismon): But it's dark and I can't find it. >*pant* Then the storm came in... *huff* I had no time to find shelter..." TOM: He's kind of a Marsh-Malo Myotismon. >He stumbled in his steps and fell face-first in the mud, still trying to catch his breath. CROW: Well, he ain't gonna find the Crest of Light there. MIKE: Since when does Myotismon do his own dirty work? Did he kill all his henchmen AGAIN? >* * * * >I suppose that halfway to the citadel, He finally woke up, looking into my eyes. MIKE (Piedmon): Wake up, honey, you've been sleepwalking again. >Inside my mind, I was smiling- TOM (Piedmon): But I'm out of mind, so I wasn't actually happy. >just the look on his face when he saw that I was carrying him was enough to muster a soft chuckle. CROW (Piedmon): Ha-ha-ha! Sweetheart, you look so dumb! >"Why, Lord Piedmon... you're blushing. Is something wrong?" MIKE (Piedmon): All this water's making my make-up run. Can I borrow some of yours? >He grinned, hopping out of my arms and to his feet. CROW: And losing his footing and falling backwards into my rosebushes. >"Oh, nothing... I don't ask why YOU blush, after all." CROW (Piedmon): That's how much interest I have in you. >He pouted at my response, 'phff'ing. TOM: He's got a slow leak. >"..You realize that wasn't an insult." MIKE (Piedmon): D'ya buy that? >"So?" TOM: And the conversation winds to a confrontational halt. >His rain-soaked hair shone in whatever light there was through the clouds, MIKE: About half a footcandle, I'd say. Thunderheads are pretty dark. CROW: His hair is so shiny, he must eat Gaines Burger. >His small frown turning to a playful smirk that crept onto his lilac-colored lips. TOM: Oh, no, he's not breathing! Start CPR! >He looks at me with those soft, yet icy blue eyes that I adore so greatly, taking my hand in his. MIKE (Myotismon): I see you dig my groovy contacts. >"At this point, I don't think we have anything else to blush at." CROW (Myotismon): We already dress like tourists at Mardi Gras. It doesn't get more embarassing. >"Oh?" I look at him quizzicaly, already getting an idea of what he was after. TOM (Piedmon): The Crest of Light. It's upstairs in my hope chest. I'll go fetch. >That thought alone made me stiffle a small chuckle. MIKE: Oh, no, he's stiffling. We're almost to the porny part. >"Then rain or no rain, we should talk about that." CROW: But first, this word from our sponsor. >I sit down, leaning against the tree and dropping my umbrella, letting the slowly stregnthening downpour soak into my clothes and hair. TOM: Yeah, a cold shower would do you good. >It didn't matter now that my pants would get a bit muddy- MIKE: He had them Scotchguarded. >I knew I wouldn't need them later- MUCH later. CROW: Like after Myotismon leaves. >He runs his lips through the now-drooping plume of hair, inhaling the rain-soaked scent. MIKE (Myotismon): Mmm, you used Gee Your Hair Tastes Terrific! >"Lord Piedmon... with your permission, I..." he whispered, but stopped for a moment. TOM (Myotismon): I need my parking validated. >I could feel a pout of dissappointment crawl onto my lips. MIKE (Piedmon): He's always asking to borrow my power tools. Well, it's not going to happen! >"What is it?" I query, gently stroking the back of his head. CROW (Piedmon): Maybe you want a Milk-Bone, huh? >He took a deep breath, moving his hands across my face. MIKE (Myotismon): Does this bug you? >"With your permission, I want... to make love to you." TOM (Piedmon): Without flowers, or candy, or a movie, or anything? I don't think so! >Why would he bother to ask? Surely, he should KNOW the answer. CROW: He did peek in the back of the book. >But I decided to play along with his little game. MIKE (Myotismon): Now, take five baby steps backwards! TOM (Piedmon): You didn't say, "Simon says!" >"Of course, but on one small condition..." I whisper, unhooking his cape from his back. CROW (Piedmon): Make it fast, I have to warm up my VW Rabbit to drive 30 of my friends to work. >He gave me that 'What is is, m'lord?' look he is so good at. MIKE: The third person present tense of "to be." >"Show no mercy. I want this to be the most pleasureful rainy day you have ever experienced." TOM: All right! Cocoa by the fire! >With that, I kiss him hard on the lips, each one buliding a fire of immense porportions. MIKE: A spellcheck! A spellcheck! My kingdom for a spellcheck! >At first, I could tell he was quite surprised, CROW: Yeah, goths don't see much action. This would be a shock. >but his surprise turned to lust as he slipped his tounge in my mouth, tracing it across my face in the process. TOM: Myotismon's part chameleon. MIKE: You can play cat's cradle with a tongue like that. >Much to my chargin, he breaks away staring at me with those icy eyes, now seemingly aflame with a burning passion. CROW (Myotismon): My conjunctivitis is playing hell with me today. Got any Visine on you? >"The sweet sensations are running high... MIKE: Rocky Mountain high! TOM and CROW: Colorado! >and my face certainly isn't enough to mangle with..." CROW: If you sharpen your face, you might be able to mangle with it. >I breathe lustfuly, taking his soaked, gloved hand on the hem of my jacket. MIKE: Haberdasher porn. >"Can we at least explore each other... until the time is right?" TOM: Translated, "You might arise at sundown, but I need till midnight, if you get my drift." >"I thought you'd never ask, Lord Piedmon..." he grins. CROW: I'd like to ask Lord Piedmon what he's the lord of. Illusions? Flatbush? The Dance? TOM: I think he bought the title off a bankrupt Austrian viscount. >I can't help but be enticed, myself. I breathe deeply, slouching against the tree as I let him unfasten the sword sheaths from my back. MIKE (Myotismon): Could you move away from the tree? It's hard to get these off with a tree in the way. >They were dreadfuly uncomfortable at a time like this... CROW (Piedmon): Come to think of it, they're uncomfortable all the time. I should hang them from my belt like a normal ninja clown. >He unhooks the heart-shaped belt buckle from my waist, TOM: He's wearing the Barbie line of trucker gear. >but for some odd reason, I stopped him before he can unzip the rest of the jacket open. CROW: I believe that reason is called "shame," Piedmon. >"You know... I can just get rid of it all in just a second or so..." I breathe, preparing to take a hankercheif from my pocket... MIKE (Piedmon): Hang on, I got a booger working loose.... >"I realize that, m'lord... but... I don't want you to take it ALL off... TOM (Myotismon): I mean, I can do this, but not if I have to look at your face at the same time. >Let me remove which articles of clothing that I see fit... is it fine with you?" CROW: He just wants to see Piedmon do the "taking off the shirt without taking off the jacket" trick. MIKE: I can do that. >"Say no more..." I smile, kissing his gloved fingertips after he unzipped the rest of my jacket open. MIKE: One chews on the other's hair, the other's sucking on the one's glove. I'm not seeing the appeal of this. >The rain started to fall heavier as a low rumble of thunder boomed in the far distance as he slowly and seductively reached up under my frilled collar to slowly unfasten each button on the dress shirt underneath, lightly touching his lips to me as small sections of skin were slowly uncovered. CROW: There's a ten sentence pile-up at the junction of I-35 and I-240.... >Oh, what a beautiful sensation... I hear my own sigh of pleasure as he unhooked the last button, spreding the two halves apart in the process. TOM: Piedmon buttons his buttocks together? MIKE: I think he's still talking about his jacket. I hope he's still talking about his jacket. >"Gods, you are so beautiful..." CROW (Myotismon): Pretty as a picture - by Red Skelton. >he sighs as he runs a damp finger from my collarbone down the center of my chest to the waistband of my trousers, TOM: And then Myotismon snaps the elastic. >myself noticing a dull ache in my crotch. MIKE (Piedmon): Uh, you're kneeling on me. OW. >I sighed again, only this time, a small moan escaping as well. TOM: Followed swiftly by a "duh." >He grins playfully as he traced up my chest again, rubbing small circles on my stomach. CROW (Myotismon): I didn't know you have all these moles. >My moans are louder now, and a thin coat of sweat trickles down my face, mixing with the rain. MIKE: This is going to be the pruniest sex ever. >"Do you enjoy that, Lord Piedmon?" he whispers in my ear, sending more blood to my cheeks as I weakly smiled. CROW: Meanwhile his feet wither and fall off from all the blood going to his head.... >"Oh, yesss...." He nods as if to say 'Of course', MIKE (Myotismon): Hey, you're a clown. You can't be picky about your boyfriends. >now softly skimming his lips across my chest, taking tiny nibbles with his more blunt teeth on my shoulders. TOM: Lips on his chest, but teeth on his shoulders? Did Myotismon take his dentures out for the play-biting? >"Unnn... don't stop... I command you..." MIKE (Piedmon): Resistance is futile and stuff. >"I won't stop until you want me to, m'lord..." he says as he slips his hand through my trousers and undergarment, stroking my thighs tenderly. CROW (Piedmon): Ah, that's good enough. See you tomorrow maybe. >Such sensation... I wanted to drop my guard and let it all go at that moment... but not yet- MIKE: Now? >not now... MIKE: How about now? >but with the rain racing across my body, seeing it tighten his clothes... TOM: Myotismon should have washed in Woolite. >I raised my hand to his neck, untucking his deep red scarf from his collar, then quickly unbuttoning his tunic as if I was possessed. MIKE (Piedmon): I've possessed people, but I've never experienced it for myself. >It was a little difficult since he was so rain-soaked, his shirt clung to his body like a magnet. CROW (Piedmon): And look, here's a shopping list he stuck to himself for later. >Oh, well- it didn't exactly matter anyway. TOM: Come to think of it, none of this fanfic matters. Think I'll give this up and snag me a cup of joe. >I press my lips to his exposed collar, tracing my tounge across the rain-soaked width, feeling the buzz of deep moans vibrating out of his throat. MIKE: Why does he keep licking his clothes? Does Piedmon want lint in his mouth? >I rub my hands down his back, kneading and twisting the muscles in his back- TOM (Piedmon): Shaping them into little muscle pretzels. >it's probably good for him anyway- they were twisted like thick steel cables that knotted in his shoulder blades. CROW: Ah, yes. The sweet seductive power of scrap iron. >"Oh, Gods... that feels so good...." he moans drunkenly, breathing heavily. TOM: Oh, he's drunk. That explains much. MIKE: Imagine waking up hungover next to a clown. CROW: Myotismon must live for Shriner conventions. >I felt each breath in rythmic movements as I trace my lips across what ever exposed part of his chest as I could. MIKE (Piedmon): I'm not, you know, real picky. You know, whatever. >He seems to melt into a heap in my arms, his head tucked into my shoulder. CROW: Uh-oh, the Sun came out. He really IS melting! >I chuckle- he is such a cute one when he does this, his warm breath easing down my back like that. TOM (Piedmon): Then he burps up on me and ruins the effect. >By now, the ache in my groin was almost unbearable, my trousers now feeling much too tight. CROW: And that's hard to do with balloon pants. >I turn his head to mine, his flushed cheeks and passion-filled eyes seeming to say, "Take me away...." MIKE (Napoleon XIV): They're coming to take me away, ha ha! They're coming to take me away, ho ho! Hee hee! Heh heh! To the funny farm! Where life is beautiful all the time...! >"I do believe we can proceed to the final act, m'lord..." he remarks breathlessly. TOM: They are going to have sex if it's the last act! And I hope it is. >"I couldn't agree more..." I reply, half-groaning because his damp hands were already gently caressing the hard swell in between my legs. MIKE (Piedmon): That boil has been driving me crazy. Could you squeeze it for me? >I wonder, 'Why can't I just come and be done with it? CROW (Piedmon): I've eaten more shellfish than a sea otter. >No... hold on just a little longer... he wants this just as badly, I know...' I smile, my breathing quickening and my heart pounding madly. MIKE: It's mad, mad, MAD, I tell you! Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! >He grins as he undoes the tiny button on the waist of the trousers, then pulling the tiny zipper down, TOM (Piedmon): To reveal my tiny wedding tackle. >and then moving his hands across the ivory-blue slik boxers underneath. MIKE: Ivory blue? TOM: It's the new "in" color, Mike. CROW: That, sky green, and salmon yellow. Watch Martha Stewart sometime and you'll know. >The pain was now so intense.... CROW (Piedmon): That I had to take an Advil. >Before I realize what was going on, I felt something wet trace across the source of that ache. TOM: Lemme guess. It's the pounding, pouring rain that's tiddled down all through this fanfic. >I groaned louder, almost drowning out the thunderclaps that slowly came closer to where we were. MIKE (Myotismon): We, uh, might want to leave before we're HIT BY LIGHTNING. >But I couldn't care, not now when he was tracing his warm, hot tounge across my heat, almost causing me to come at that moment. TOM: Written by Anne Rice-a-Roni. >"P..put me... inside..." I bearly manage to say, a swelling heat in my throat catching every word I try to say. CROW (Piedmon): It's freezing out here, can't you tell? >"Of course... No matter what, your pleasure is my duty, m'lord." he replies, searching around in my pockets for a small tube of gel that I carry around. CROW (Myotismon): No, no, not here, maybe this pocket...I'll plan ahead next time, I promise. TOM (Myotismon): You gonna eat this mint? MIKE (Myotismon): Jesus, how many hankies does one man need? >(You try keeping a large plume of hair up for once, you know!)' MIKE: Sorry, think I'll pass on the Woody Woodpecker look. >When he fished it out, he finally took his wet gloves off, his large, yet delicate-looking fingers rubbing in the gel like he was washing his hands with it. CROW (Piedmon): And at last I can feel his cold, clammy hands. >Then, he starts to smear a thicker coating of the gel, first on his cock, TOM (Piedmon): I said to put ME inside, you moron! >then his fingers, and using a free hand, unbuckled the trouser straps to my pants and slid them down. MIKE: And his hands are so slick, it takes him thirty minutes to do it. >I gasp slightly as I feel one of his slicked fingers probe inside me, then two, and finally three fingers. TOM (Piedmon): Then four fingers! Then five fingers! Then...six? Now seven and eight...what kind of mutant are you, Myotismon? CROW: Vun! Vun slicked finger! Ah-ha-ha-ha! Two! Two slicked fingers! Three! Three- MIKE: You're thinking of a different vampire, Crow. >Oh, the feeling! TOM: Damn you, fanfic! Don't remind me of Irene Cara! >If this is what Myotismon feels when I do this to him, CROW (Piedmon): Then it's no wonder he wanted to try something different. >then I must certainly try to be the submissive one more often... MIKE: Submissive? He's asked your permission on every last detail. >..If I feel like it, of course. CROW (Piedmon): Might be an easier way. Considering all I've done is lick his outfit, I could probably get the same effect by gumming my laundry. >I lift my legs and hook them to his shoulders, TOM (Piedmon): Let me see, "Attach leg flange A to shoulder socket B...." >and I lay back against the tree, the rain pounding harder against my masked face. CROW (B.J. Thomas): Raindrops keep fallin' on their head.... MIKE: Crow, please. >"Do it," I whisper, knowing there's a bit of apprihension in his eyes. TOM (Myotismon): Oh, damn. I can't deliver on that. Could you settle for some heavy petting? Or a platonic relationship, maybe? >Hurt me? Never! Especially with an Ultimate-level Digimon like him. CROW: Mike, why are they called Ultimate-level Digimon when there's a level beyond them? MIKE: Uhhh.... >He inhales sharply and slides himself in. I gasp loudly as he does so, intending to take me to the very hilt. MIKE: Piedmon's hilt? That's backwards, unless...Myotismon went so far inside his crank is in Piedmon's crank! CROW: Owww! That's gotta hurt! TOM: Oh, gross! First crappy Digimon lemon in forever that doesn't involve kids or animals, and this happens! >"How do you feel?" he asks. TOM (Piedmon): Like I'm passing a stone. Back off! >"Oh, sweet pain..." I moan, rocking in time with him. CROW: He turned into Dr. Smith! >"Is that as deep as you can go?" MIKE (Myotismon): Look, you should be able to taste your own prostate by now. Isn't that enough? >"I didn't wish to hurt you, m'lord- if I am--" TOM (Myotismon): Well, that's just gravy. >"Shut up and go deeper..." I whisper as I touch his lips to silence him. CROW: Dive! Dive! Dive! >"I want to take it ALL." TOM: And chuck it in the trash can. >He again begins to rock slowly, now licking the back of my ears softly. MIKE (Myotismon): Yuck, earwax! >I mew his name a few times, TOM (Piedmon): Mew-otismon! Mew-otismon! >feeling his soft lips now cascading down the nape of my neck. MIKE: Then Myotismon sierra nevadas his lips on Piedmon's face. >I jerk, MIKE, TOM, and CROW: Yes, you are. >and let out a loud scream as he came inside of me, TOM (Myotismon): Ow, right in my ear! Dang! >but that noise was drowned out by a thunderbolt hitting the ground about a mile ahead of us.... CROW: Too bad the lightning didn't blind us so we couldn't see this, either. >we break away, and I find myself breathing more heavily than I can ever remember... MIKE: That's 'cause you're drowning. It's rained all through this. Seek higher ground. >"Oh, gods...." I gasp, panting. He collapses in my arms, and smiles, fingering around with the sticky white fluid that now covered both of our stomachs. MIKE (Myotismon): Sorry I spilled your Liquid Paper, honey. >He then touches one of those fingers to my lips. TOM (Piedmon): You don't know where that's been! Wait, you do. Don't do that anyway! >"My gift to you, m'lord." he says plainly as he traces his sticky finger from my lips to my neck, CROW (Myotismon): You really wanted the gift certificate, right? >mixing the salty white goo with a small trickle of red that was slowly flowing from two small wounds in my neck. TOM: Didn't he ask for a peach schnapps instead? >'You fiend...' I say to myself as I lay back and involuntarily give a content smile. MIKE (Piedmon): This is NOT what I meant when I said I wanted to suck face with you! >* * * * >It's been a few hours since then, CROW (Piedmon): And I'll never live down the shame. >but I can still feel the sweet sensations that I felt in that forest. MIKE (Piedmon): Yes, this is a pain that will linger. Ow. >No-one, not even LadyDevimon, could make love to me as well as he can- TOM: I would think any female is going to be handicapped in the anal sex department. >in fact, I look forward to the day he decides to do it again.... CROW: And that same day, I'll get to watch pigs fly, too! >but for now, I inhale the thick mist from a hot bath, letting the water wash away the mud and rainwater left from my little encounter. MIKE: Man, all the water in this fic is getting to me. I'll be right back. (Exit.) TOM: Go for me while you're at it! CROW: And remember to put the seat down! Geez! >I sigh as I sink deeper in the water, revelling in my own luxury, letting memories relax me even further. TOM (Barbra Streisand): Misty water-colored memories.... CROW: Good thing Mike left before you said that, or we'd be swimming home. >After all- tomorrow is another day, is it not? CROW (Piedmon): And, as God is my witness, I'll never go sexy again! TOM: Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. >Owari TOM: They're related to giraffes, right? CROW: Okapi. TOM: Yeah, that's it. Thanks. >(A/N: ^__^ I got the idea for this one at a picnic that got rained on. CROW: If it hadn't rained, we'd be reading ant porn. >The picnic continued of course, but at a resteraunt- but who wants to hear about that, anyways? TOM: I've always wanted to see a fanfic about a Dairy Queen. >Plus, I want to thank the authoress of "A Rainy Day" Rhiannon, for giving me the inspiration! TOM and CROW (Fleetwood Mac): All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind! >Kudos to you! ;D Well, gotta go write some more stories- hopefully some Comedy fics that *gasp* AREN'T lemons!!)-DigistarDBZ (MIKE enters.) MIKE: Did I miss anything? TOM: Not really. It ended. CROW: The author wants to give up on porn. MIKE: Wow. I should slip out more often. (MIKE, TOM, and CROW exit the theater. Doors slam as we return to the living quarters. GYPSY raises an alarm.) GYPSY: Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Intruder alert! (Pause.) I never have anyone to talk to. (Pauses again and waits for MIKE, TOM, and CROW to enter. They do about a minute later.) Intruder alert! Intruder alert! MIKE: Intruder alert? GYPSY: Yes, intruder alert! I've been saying that for five minutes! I could have been dismantled and sold for spare parts in the time I waited for you to come so I could tell you, "Intruder alert! Intruder alert!" MIKE: I'm sorry. We were just tidying up the kitchen.... GYPSY: Don't you want to know about the intruder in our intruder alert? MIKE: I'm sorry. Yes. GYPSY: Well, I don't know who or where they are, so we have to ask Pearl. MIKE: I'm...Pearl, you gettin' this? (Onscreen: chaos at Castle Forrester. PEARL and OBSERVER are working franticly at their mainframe.) PEARL: Give us a minute, Nelson. There's an evil Digimon here and another on the Satellite. We're still trying to assess the situation. OBSERVER: I've already assessed it. He's doomed. I'd be more concerned with us. As near as I can tell, we're under attack by the highly dangerous Myotismon. PEARL: Him? It's Myotismon, all right, but it's Slacker Myotismon. He's not much of a threat. All he does is watch TV and eat. He's over on the couch, see? I've got Bobo working on him. (Pan to the couch, where SLACKER MYOTISMON, dressed in flannels, gobbles popcorn. BOBO is trying to get him to leave.) BOBO: We don't have a remote. It's a very old set. SLACKER MYOTISMON: That's weak, dude. BOBO: And we're out of Chee-tos Paws. SLACKER MYOTISMON: Aw, man! PEARL: See? Not a problem. Now what's this about Mike's being doomed and such? OBSERVER: Analysis indicates that Piedmon is aboard the Satellite. MIKE: Is that all? I thought this was an emergency. Ah, well, back to work. TOM: But, Mike! MIKE: The kitchen's not going to clean itself. Besides, Piedmon's a wuss. CROW: But he's evil and stuff. Mike! (Offstage: PIEDMON laughs maniacally.) GYPSY: Oh, no, here he comes! RUUUN! (PIEDMON enters. The robots run wild. MIKE, unimpressed, folds his arms and stays put.) PIEDMON: This strange space vehicle is mine! MINE! Ha ha ha! You will all be destroyed! MIKE: Oh, you are, huh? What are you going to do, balloon animal us to death? Gimme a break. PIEDMON: Do you mock me? I, Lord Piedmon, greatest of the Dark Masters? MIKE: Ah, yes, the Dark Masters. That would be the giant sea snake that died in two episodes, the giant robot snake that died in two episodes, and the stupid annoying puppet that did more to defeat the kids than you did? PIEDMON: Ah...well, anyone can make the others sound stupid. But I, I am the most dangerous of all Digimon! MIKE: You spent more time strolling to your battle than actually fighting it. Plus your idea of a battle was a magic trick of throwing your hankies at people and turning them into keychains, of all things. Plus you got killed by the littlest kid's Digimon. Plus- PIEDMON: Um, yes, enough! Now I will destroy you for your impudence! Ah ha ha! Behold, Trump Swords! (PIEDMON draws his swords and throws them.) GYPSY: I don't want to die! CROW: Save us, Mike! TOM: Do something! (MIKE ignores the swords, which whirl menacingly around him without touching him.) MIKE: We saw that episode. We know they're illusions. Try something real. PIEDMON: Um, yes. I know! I shall destroy you with my Clown Trick! You will all be reduced to keychains! Ha ha ha! Observe, I take my trusty handkerchief and.... (PIEDMON throws his hankie. MIKE catches it with one hand, wads it up, throws it on the floor, and stomps it.) MIKE: Do you know what? You suck. You really suck. You are the suckiest suck since Sucko "The Sucky Suckwad" McSuck sucked a sucker for sixteen sucking hours at the 66th Annual Suck City Suck-Off. That's how much you suck. And do you know what else? (PIEDMON considers this.) PIEDMON: WAAAAH! You're mean! (Exits crying.) MIKE: Good riddance. TOM: Well, Mike! That was overdoing it. You didn't have to break his spirit. CROW: He was only threatening to destroy us! It's not like he said he was going to kill us. That's no reason to go all Blackadder on him. GYPSY: It did seem a little much. MIKE: Wait a minute. I stare down an evil Digimon, and I'M the bad guy? Anyone else want to dogpile Mike? PEARL: I do. Piedmon's just crashed on my couch and he's got Couch Potatomon to stay, too! PIEDMON: Want some of my Chee-tos Paws? SLACKER MYOTISMON: Dude! PEARL: Now I'm stuck with two evil Digimon. Just for that, you have to read It's All My Fault by Goldstar44. PIEDMON and SLACKER MYOTISMON: MORE OVALTINE, PLEASE! BOBO: Oh, me too! PEARL: Right after I fetch the beverages. MIKE: Take your time! (Lights flash and sirens blare.) That was quick. We've got FANFIC SIGN! (To abort, open Hamdingers.)