Disclaimer: This parody is not in any way to infringe or make money off of any of the talented people whose ideas I'm really enjoying to use. Mooching off of their creativity, yeah, that's what I'm after.

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A Typical Day for the Sailor Screwups.

By Ritsuko

*We pan in on the small town of Nibelheim, and up to the abandoned Shin-Ra Mansion, where the most violent patron in all of its history lives. Suddenly, a jar of marmalade goes breaking through the window and crashes into something. A girl with a pink tanktop, combat color pants, a turned sideways Smith and Wesson hat, combat boots, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a stoagie hanging out of the corner of her mouth appears in the window with a pair of binoculars. At her side is a stressed out girl in multicolored clown pants, a black shirt that says 'Smile you Fucker', long curly browny blonde hair, sunglasses, and a mug full of coffee.*

TWEEK: *taking a sip of her coffee* You don't smoke, Misc. . . gyyaahhhh. . . .

MISC: *snapping* Well, it looks cool. I like stoagies. Hmm. . . what a commercial that would make. Who can I get money out of for that one? Oh, I'm missing it! Thanks alot!!!!*looking through binoculars* Yes! YES!!! Ha ha! That jar broke all over a couple in the honeymoon suite! Ha ha! And. . . . oh. It seems they're using it to their advantage. Hmmm. . . must like that peachy flavor. *gets out notebook, and starts to jot something down* 'Kay. . . that's 500 points for Shakey. . .

TWEEK: Five hundreed? FIVE HUNDRED?! GYYAAAAHHH! You can't do that?

MISC: *Looking up* And why the fuck not?

TWEEK: *points at Shakey* That cracker jack's got epilepsy on his side!!!!

*We see Shakey for the first time. A scraggly looking dude dressed in 1840's prospector clothes, with brown hair. From time to time, goes 'Gi!' Tweek starts to throw a tantrum*

TWEEK: I mean, what the hell have I got on my side? Grrr. . . what is this? *wildly waves arms around, and half of her precious coffee spills onto the floor* GYYYAAAAHHH! My life juice! *starts to lick the floor* Oww. . . splintery good. . . .

SHAKEY: *comes over and bends down next to her* Aww, c'mon, spud. . . ya know ol' Shakey deserves his win! Gi! Gi! Gi!

MISC: So did Goth and Skills say when they were going to get here? *sarcastically* I know how much we all want to get them over here so Goth can kick our asses at Goldeneye. . . .

SHAKEY: Oh, Spud, I don't ever play with guns anymore. . . ever since what happened to my mule. . . . *sadly* Poor 'ol Betsy. . . .

TWEEK: *having licked up all of the caffieney goodness, with a splintery tongue* NWHAGHT?

MISC: Oh, shit. . . don't encourage him! *looks back out the window with her binoculars* Hmmm. . . little kids, playing in front of my house? *grabs a jagged rock from the table next to her, and tests it in her hands* Yeah little kids. . . . try and open the gate. . . . hee hee hee

TWEEK: *scrathing her tongue* Ngouwhse Bretzy?

SHAKEY: Well, Spud . . . my tale starts back in the winter of '42. Betsy was the finest mule a guy could ask for. She had big, purty eyes. . . and she liked Burt Reynolds.

MISC: *chucks rock* . . . . DAMNIT! I MISSED!!!!! *grabs a bright shiney, glowing rock and throws it beaning a kid in the head.*

OTHER KIDS: AHHHH! THE VAMPIRE DID IT!!!!!! *they flee in terror, dragging the kid with them in the dust*

MISC: Hmmm? *touches teeth curiously* What're they talking about? *looks at Tweek* Hey, c'mere, I need to test something out. . .

*Tweek is totally mystified by the story, and doesn't hear. Misc sighs, as Shakey goes on.*

SHAKEY: *using big hand gestures* That year, it just happened to be raining mashed potatoes. .

MISC: *looking through her binoculars* Hmm. . . kid didn't bleed. Concussion maybe?. . . . Wait a tick. . . SHIT!!! MY. . . . MY BAHAMUT ZERO MATERIA!!!!!!

*Misc smacks a hand to her head as she realizes exactly what she threw at the kid. Pulling her stolen Nailbat out of hammerspace, she jumps out the window, and runs down the road for it. . . when suddenly, a little bird swoops out of the sky, grabs the materia, and flies up to it's nest in a nearby tree.*

MISC: *falling to her knees, screaming* NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! EVILPIECEOFCRAPBIRDYCACAHEADWITHMYEVERBEAUTIFULSHINYIMPLEMENTOFDOOM!GYYYAAAAAAAHHHHH!COMEDOWNHERESOICANBASHYOURLITTLEBIDRYSKULLINWITHMYFINGEES!RRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!DON'TYOUSPEAKENGLISHYOUFOULFOWL????!!!

*the bird, in its tree, happily pecks at the materia*

MISC: NO! YOU LITTLE FUCKER! GYYAAHHH! *turning to the house* SHAKEY! TWEEK! *whining* I NEED YOUR HELP!!! I WANT MY SHINY!!!!!

SHAKEY: *still in the house*. . . then I started to brain hemmorage! Gi! Gi! All because Rusty Pete shoved that carrot up my nose!

TWEEK: Wow!!!!

*Misc stares helplessly from the nest to the house, and starting to howl, starts slamming her Nailbat into the tree. After about five minutes of getting nowhere, and having all the squirrels in the tree pelt her with nuts, she decides to resort to Plan B. Quickly, she runs to the window, and popped her head in.*

MISC: Uhhhh, Shakey, there's someone that want's to see you. . .

SHAKEY: Later spud. . . now where was I? Oh yeah. . . Pete had actually been trying to help me with an earwax buildup, but he has really crummy sight. . . gi! gi!

MISC: *tracing her finger on the window pane* Okay, then. I'll have to tell MR. PIDGET to go away then. . .

*Shakey's eyes get really shiney*

SHAKEY: Spud, did you say. . . MR. PIDGET?!

TWEEK: OH fuck. . . . . . whose Mr. Pidget?

*In a flying leap, Shakey goes out the window, and jerks around on the lawn*

SHAKEY: I don't see 'im, Spud!

MISC: THAT'S BECAUSE THE LITTLE FUCK. . . .er, that sweet little bird is up in that tree. And he has a present for you. *sweatdrops* To give to me.

SHAKEY: *looking up in the tree* Oh, Spud, that isn't Mr. Pidget. . . that's 'is wife! Mrs. Pidget!

TWEEK: *crawling through the broken glass of the window* What the hell is going on?. . . OW! MY ASS! *falls*

MISC: Yeah, yeah, whatever. The point is that damn bird has something of mine that I want back!

SHAKEY: Oh, I can't take something from Mrs. Pidget! Mr. Pidget might get upset, Spud!

MISC: *looking menacing with her Nailbat* That's something we'll just have to chance, isn't it?

SHAKEY: Nope Spud. I can't do that to Mr. Pidget. What would Baby Pidget think. *looks around at the ground* Hmm. . . this looks like a good prospecting site. . GI! GI! *proceeds to dig up the flowers beds*

MISC: FUCK! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKETYFUCKFUCKFUCK!!! *sobbing* I want my materia!

TWEEK: Mmmm. . . you guys. . . Ohh. . . I don't think glass belongs up your nose!

MISC: *raising her fist and cursing at the bird* Damn you avian creature! I will get my revenge! I WILL! *thinks a moment* But how?

*Suddenly, a shadow falls over Misc. She looks up and lets out a horrified shriek.A young man with brown hair, wearing all black, a trenchcoat, sunglasses, and makeup courtsey of The Crow is falling down on top of her, ala Aerith's death scene.He lands, in a striking pose, the edge of his viking swords blade barely grazing Misc's nose.*

GOTH: *grinning evilly* Hello, Misc.

MISC: AAAAHHHHH! *falls to the ground in a fetal position, and starts hyperventilating*

GOTH: *rolls eyes* Oh, quit faking!

*Tweek gets up and walks over, holding some berries*

TWEEK: I never knew you had huckleber. . . . oh shit. . . . Goth! You broke her!!!!

GOTH: Oh, she's just being melodramatic and you know it! *nudges Misc with his boot* Hey! Hello in there! You're okay now. The sword's nowhere near you. . .

*Misc shakes her head, and tightens up into an even smaller ball*

TWEEK: *cramming huckleberries in her mouth and letting the juice seep down her chin* Maybe if you put the sword away. . .

GOTH: Now you know I can't do that. . .

TWEEK: Why not? *licks lips*

GOTH: It's much more fun this way.

TWEEK: True, true. . . *walks over to Shakey, who has by this time uncovered three elixirs, a paladins shield, and some of Hojo's old testing equipment* Found any gold yet?

GOTH: C'mon Misc. . . I'm sorry. . . . *puts the blade right in front of her face* I put it away. . .

MISC: Really? *opens her eyes a teensy bit, and shrieks*

GOTH: No, not really.

*Misc gets up shrieking, and runs around the yard, as Goth polishes his blade*

SHAKEY: Well, Spud, this might be gold. . . *holds something up*

TWEEK: Uh, Shake, that's a hypodermic needle.

SHAKEY: Darnit, Spud! Gi! Gi! I thought we were getting close! *tosses the needle which smacks right into Misc's arm. On reflex, she smacks it, pumping the green goo into her arm*

MISC: OOOOWWWWIIIEEE!!! *looks down* . . . . aw, dang! *falls over on the ground, unconscious*

GOTH: *looks at Misc* Whee hee! Target practice! *estimates throwing his sword to impale her*

TWEEK: Oh, Shakey. . . you DO have good aim. . . . . *Misc twitches* Hey, you don't think you can find any more of those, can you? *mumbling to herself* Might be coffee. . .

SHAKEY: I'll see spud. . . *starts singing 'She'll be coming round the mountain*

MISC: Ohhh. . . . *singing* funky turtle lovin' . . . . .

GOTH: Oh, we'll have none of that, now! *heaves his sword, and it comes down gutting Misc* Oooh. . . pretty good, considering wind velocity. . .

MISC: OOOWW! You fucki. . . oh, I think I'm dying. *looks at her wound* Oh, yeah. I'm dying. *points at Goth* I should put you in time ou-- *starts hacking up blood*

GOTH: *licks finger, and puts an imaginary point on his scoreboard* Hell Yeah!

MISC: Next time decide to sheath your sword somewhere el- - - *dies*

SHAKEY: *looks up from digging* Oh my god, Spud! You killed Misc!

TWEEK: *jubilantly* You bas---

GOTH: *suddenly behind her, sword at her throat* No more of that, now.

TWEEK: *nervously* Um. . . you asshole?

GOTH: *shaking his head, starting to wipedown his blade* Originality is all I ask for. . .

TWEEK: Um. . . what are we going to do about that? *points at Misc's body, which is covered in slowly congealing blood*

GOTH: Ah, leave it out. It's a great Halloween decoration.

TWEEK: Goth, it's June.

GOTH: *stares at Tweek, at the body, and then at the house* Then why the fuck does her house look like that?!

TWEEK: She liked it that way. Thought it looked rustic.

GOTH: *miffed* Well, she looks 'rustic' too.

TWEEK: I think she'dve at least wanted a coffin. . .

GOTH: Well, that's enough of what you think! MORBO! *jumps on Tweek, squishing her*

TWEEK: AHHHHH!!!

SHAKEY: *picks up a skull he has unearthed* Uncle Carl?

*Suddenly, in the middle of all of the bodyslamming and family reunions, a lanky, cloaked figure appears. He watches the chaos around him and shakes his head. Sighing, he goes over to Misc's body and shakes his head sadly. He removes his hood to show sandy blonde hair to his ears, and merry eyes. Grumbling under his voice, he takes out a giant first aid kit, and pries the top off with a huge double bladed sword.*

GOTH: *looking up from his tickling position* What're you doing?

SKILLS: *rummaging through the box* My job.

GOTH: You might as well not. She'll just die again anyway.

SKILLS: *tossing ace bandages aside* Probably. But it gives me a chance to make this better. *Pulls out a revive Materia* There is a cause for everything.

GOTH: If you say so. *looks down at Tweek* Had enough?

TWEEK: *coughing* Do you know what your lungs taste like? If it's raspberry jam, I'm in trouble.

GOTH: Well, that's a no. MORBO! *pins her again*

SKILLS: *whispers a few words and the materia glows* That should do it. *wipes his brow with a gloved hand* Hoo boy, I hope she has some refreshments for us. I call first dibs on the N64!!!

*No one pays attention. Skills shrugs, throws a grappling hook up to the roof, and swings into the house through the broken window. After a second, Misc cautiously blinks open one eye*

MISC: Mommie?

GOTH: *immediately alert* Your mommie can't help you now, hee hee. . .

MISC: *brushing herself off* Good. . . never liked her much anyway. . . *looks up suddenly* Uh oh. . . *sqeauling, gets up and runs for the house* SANCTUARY! SANCTUARY!!

TWEEK: And to think they gave that part to the crippled, hump backed retard. . .

SKILLS: Get your butts in here! I want 'Rocket Launcher' mode!

GOTH: *perks up* Oooh. . . whose your daddy!!! *runs to the house*

TWEEK: Don't worry, I can get myself up. *rises and looks over at Shakey, who, this whole time has been conversing with the skull*

SHAKEY: But Uncle Carl. . . doggies don't tast like buffalo. . . gi! gi! more like rattlesnake. . .

TWEEK: I'll just leave you two alone. . . *headds for the house when a bloodcurdling scream is heard*

SKILLS: EWWWW! YOU HAVE FUN-YUNS?!?!?

MISC: *nervously* I use 'em as rat poison. . .

GOTH: Oh, you are so getting a rocket up your ass!

TWEEK: *shakes head* All in a days. . . *starts coughing* Ugh. . . raspberry. . .

*She heads for the house, as crashes and screams emerge from it, and Shakey yells*

SHAKEY: OW! Uncle Carl! GI! GI! My fingers aren't dog!!!!!

~FIN



Get me the fuck out of here! AAAHHHH!