Disclaimer: The damned TV show isn't mine, but Kudos to them for selling pieces of paper to people through use of flashing lights and sound.

...a large fat woman sitting at a desk and working on a computer. There was nothing else inside the room and the walls were painted snow white. While a confused Marik and Bakura edge their way towards the giant woman, who by now was vaguely aware of their comparatively small existence, Ron goes over to one of the walls to open a secret compartment, but he could not find the secret door quite quick enough to stop Bakura's trademark tidal wave of semi-idle threats. Actually, he really couldn't find it at all.

"Alright, Orca!" Bakura started. "Where did you put the stash?"

"Glugghhghg." the woman began to explain.

"Yeah, right!" Bakura shouted in her face. "Don't give me any damned excuses." Bakura turned around to get some back up. "MARIK! Put your shirt on!"

"I don't know, I kind of like the free feeling." Marik said, flexing a bit to show that he had the precise muscle power of a nine-year-old with progeria.


"Okay, crybaby." Marik groaned, putting his shirt back on.

"Well, you have the figure of a fucking anorexic ballerina!"

"Why don't you just shut up. You can't handle the flesh!" Marik pointed accusingly while quoting a movie like it was going out of style. After that, he proceeded to look back to the obese woman and realize what an ironic statement he made as a look of mild disgust formed slowly on Marik's face. He stared at every last corpulent detail of the mystery blob's sagging waves of flesh that Marik knew damn well were concealing yellow, earwax-like horrors known by most doctors and physicians and army generals as "too much fucking access fat," and he just became more and more nauseated... and slightly hungry.

"Jesus Christ, how does-" Marik started to Bakura, but was interupted by a loud, offended grunt from the massive beanbag lady who, after grabbing their attention, pointed with a sense of warning to her golden cross necklace before getting back to the computer to go back to .

"...Right. Okay, how does a person get that big?" Marik asked Bakura, both curious and just plain scared.

"Well, Marik, they basically consume roughly enough food to fill the entire center of our planet in a matter of three to four weeks." Bakura explained.

"Motherfucker, I know that!" Marik said. "I meant, how could a person do that to themselves?"

"Probably because they're really sad, a department you and I love to see people take advantage of. Plus, never call me motherfucker."

"Bakura, I'll call you Hopping Janice Pigtails if I damn well feel like it."


"You know what I meant, don't give me that look like I'm an idiot!"

"You're just jealous because I have sleeves to roll up."

"How DARE you make fun of my lack of sleeves? I'll rip your hair out thread by thread!"

"You better not try that again!" Bakura grabbed his hair to protect it from the possible threat.

"I'm not even talking about that hair this time!"

"BOTH OF YOU KNOCK IT OFF!" Ron screamed, obviously letting loose some building frustrations. "You two and I are a team, so do the team thing and both of you SHUT IT UP! Damn, where is that compartment... that's it, I'm getting that compartment blueprint paper he told me he kept in his desk. You two play nice." Ron ran off, allowing Marik and Bakura to play their game of Very Bad Cop and Slightly Worse Cop undisturbed.

"Okay, sure." Marik and Bakura say simultaneously while mockingly saluting Ron, whose middle finger promptly returns the favor, before Marik jumps right in with the questioning of their now helpless and somewhat apathetic "witness".

"What does this picture remind you of?" Marik said, holding up a poorly scribbled stick picture with giant boobies to the large lady's sunken-beneath-a-foot-deep-puddle-of-fat face.

"Gurrgu." the lady glanced and shrugged, trying her hardest to keep her inner loving kindness and peace in this room of fit (Ron excluded) sinners.

"Marik, uhhh... questions related to pot, please." Bakura told him.

"Oh, okay." Marik turns around to face Bakura. "Thanks for making me look stupid."

"You don't need me for that job."

"Fuck you very much."

Before Bakura could retort with a "no thanks", Marik went back to shouting like an amplified deaf person at the Human Muffin.

"What was the best high you EVER had?" Marik screamed with urgency.

"HGGHBLARGH!" the woman squealed like a speared wild pig choking on a megaphone and showed her cross necklace to Marik once again, ripping it off and shoving it in his face.

"MARIK! QUESTIONS ABOUT THE STASH OF POT WE ARE IN THE PROCESS OF ACQUIRING!" Bakura stomped his feet in frustration over his clueless cohort.

"RGH!" Marik growled and roared at the same time and balled up his stick figure picture, tossing it at the wall just beside Bakura. Bakura picked it up and cracked up immediately after un-crumbling it.

"Marik, do us all a favor and consider pencils your enemy." Bakura said between fits of giggles.

"It relaxes me to draw..." Marik said self-consciously, twiddling his thumbs as if he were being judged on American Idol.

"Dude, is that two eyeballs under her armpits? HAHAHAAA!"

"OH, SHUT UP! That's what everyone knew it was when I showed it to them!"

"Well, if you told a blind person this picture was totally hot and gave it to them to jerk to, they'd touch it and KNOW it was pathetic and silly!"

"Hey, I drew that while I was really young and still inside Malik's body, anyway, so it doesn't count!" Marik protested.

"Okay, do you have any recent artwork?" Bakura asked eagerly, discarding the previous picture.

Marik immediately takes a neatly folded piece of paper out of his right pocket and slaps it into Bakura's hand. Bakura unfolds it, and then smacks his forehead while laughing again.

"Marik, this is a copy of that other picture!" Bakura said.

"Crap. I guess I don't have a copy of that one real good picture." Marik said.

"You want me to take over?" Bakura asked.

"Whatever, it's magazine time." Marik said, taking out a copy of People... or so everyone thought.

"Alright, you bulbous tick. Where did you put the stash?" Bakura yelled into her ear. "Don't make me put a cigarette out on your face!"

"Brlbrlrblrlaaahhhh (farts)."

"Son of a bitch, she is persistent." Bakura noted to himself, hand resting on his chin and one eyebrow raised. Then his face lit up.

"Marik, check this out!" Bakura said like an excited child with a very severe, severe psychosis.

"What? Did you think of a way to get to her?" Marik asked, still reading his magazine, but was ignored as Bakura digged frantically through all of his pockets. "You know, those ADHD pills you were prescribed three months ago are still on top of the refrigerator along with that rotting severed hand and Barbie doll failed experiment, those could come in handy when stuff like this-"

"A-HA! I found it!"

Bakura pulled out a monocle and kept it on his face with one hand, while using the other to pretend to smoke a pipe. Then he pretended to put the pipe in his back pocket and then struck the same facial pose that had inspired him earlier, with the raised eyebrow and hand resting on his chin. "Pretty kickass, eh?"

"First of all, how in the sweet Mose- errr, PETE is that going to solve ANYTHING? Second of all, that badly done pipe-smoking hand gesture is making me DROOL because of the anticipation of what will hopefully be the end result of our struggle in this white room that could very well cave in from the bottom because of this THING it apparently carries within itself at all necessary hours and maybe even more! PLEASE STAY FOCUSED!" At that last word, the fake cover Marik had glued terribly to the front of the magazine chipped of to reveal "Asses the Size of Freaking Montana YEAHH! Issue #355", written by Carl (of Aqua Teen Hunger Force fame) like every other issue of the magazine.

"A-HA!" Bakura triumphantly points to the fake cover on the floor. " I bloody KNEW that was no People magazine, because no issue featuring Tom Cruise on the front page EVER gave me a stiffy!" Bakura pointed out Marik's... trophy, which was quickly vanishing.

"I hate you, man." Marik spat bitterly into Bakura's face, tossing his magazine to the floor and stomping out the door. Hey, I'm a bleedin' poet. Take a look at that!

"Rahghrgnbrbn." the woman smiled, waving goodbye and just generally glad he was making his way towards the door at long last so she can go to man porn websites after Bakura left, unless he stood around for another three minutes. Barfomatic. But, alas, it wasn't to be. Marik came back five minutes later.

"See, I knew that you- oh, poop."

Trailing behind Marik with one hand holding a gun to the back of Marik's wild-haired head and the other hand dragging the body of Ron behind him, Ron having an exit wound visible in his bloated stomach, was an old man of about 65. But the name tag and the ham beast's grunt of excitement and subsequent loud fart caused Marik and Bakura to put the equation together and realize that he was none other than the man himself... the doctor.

"Well, we're thoroughly screwed." Marik's quavering voice echoed through the hard walls of the room, which had become the setting to a tense silence save for an occasional snort of approval from Hogzilla that those damned punks were about to get theirs.

"Ron told you goofy losers that I was arrested, didn't he? Good thing my wife over there on the computer took a drama class, she told him over the phone that I'd been dragged off to jail, and the dumb ape nearly cried! Took it hook, line, and sinker!" the doctor laughed and his wife made a noise that, if you concentrated enough, could vaguely resemble a chuckle.

"Hahah, no wonder you're so tight, you got married to the world record for largest breathing water balloon!" Bakura started laughing, causing Marik to laugh as well. The brief enjoyment of their ill-advised joke faded when the doctor shot his gun into the ceiling to put a cease to their mocking gales of giggling.

"Why, dude?" Bakura's cautious whisper cut through the fear and uncertainty. "He was your best customer. He was like a brah to you!"

"I don't need no damn bra! This man did!" the doctor drops the body of Ron onto the floor as if he were a sack of heavy garbage. "The man that is laying on this floor is an example of wasted human existence. While he's off smoking pot and driving a bus around every day of his cursed life, people like us attain a living through doing something far more useful for society! He consumed and he did not give back, and he was corrected, just as you yourselves will soon be."

"Uhhh... bus drivers DO have a pretty important job if you think-"

"DON'T... speak. Listen. Me and my beautiful wife-" the doctor points into the direction of the unrecognizable-as-even-an-animal whale-person with the desk chair wedged halfway in her ass "-strive each day, and happiness still eludes us. This simple-minded unevolved man has found it through being a smear on this society's constantly-rusting and oil-starved undercarriage, and I'm just doing my job to remind the junkies, potheads, and other dregs of this nation that they live their lives every day under a timer, a clock ticking down a little faster every day, and that, one fine sunny day, they will be grinded into paste and forced to breathe their own air in a cheap coffin until their bodies return to their dust form. ARE YOU LISTENING?"

"Nah." Marik said while in the process of having a finger knuckle-deep into his nose. "Just giving my nasal passages one last cleansing before you shoot me."

"Well, why don't I clean out your ass by shooting into it first?" the doctor growled fiercely, gripping the gun harder.

"Okay. Just do your wife afterwards. I think she soiled herself a second ago." Marik said nonchalantly, giving a secret wink to Bakura, who then gave a wink to the "dead" Ron Wilson, who saw it and returned it, trying his hardest to not make any noise. The doctor bent down to fire into Marik's still-clothed crack, but Ron Wilson jumped up with all the athleticism he had ever mustered since he shot from his mother's baby-shooter and stomped onto the doctor's head, almost killing him. His sumotastic wife struggled to get up and turned towards our three heroes so she could attempt to defend her husband, but Ron used the lone bullet in the gun to shoot the rhino in her well-armored heart, which means he shot her soggy, flaccid and half-drained breast. In shock, she fell to the floor unconscious, damn near starting an earthquake of China proportions.

"Thank God she fell face first." Ron muttered, tearing up a piece of the doctor's white coat to use as dressing for his stomach wound.

"You aren't still going to die are you?" Marik stopped kicking the doctor's body with Bakura for a second to ask.

"Nah, he was a terrible shot, the fucking country-club gun-training program's run by anti-gun activists." Ron chuckled hoarsely, still in pain. After putting the cloth onto his wound, he proceeds to pull the doctor's two rubber gloves off of his hands to put on his own.

"Are you about to do an autopsy? Sounds like fun, but what about the pot?" Marik asked, still just a bit freaked out over having a gun put to his head.

"I'm about to do both of those at once." Ron said, walking over to the doctor's walking beanbag chair of a girl, obviously prepared for some meat work.

"Wait, you aren't about... to..." Bakura started to say, but trailed off when Ron pulled down the horrible thing's dress and permanently wrinkled undergarments, revealing that she was smuggling Mount Everest in her pants and had been since the day she ate her first Triple Meat and Twinkie sandwich. Marik and Bakura watched in stunned horror and repulsion as Ron took out a small spade and stuck it delicately into the inch-wide crease in between her two elephant-sized cheeks, digging out, among other things I'm sure you're more than capable of imagining on your own, a couple of towels, one suffocated corpse of a one-day-old Chihuahua pup, and a maximum-sized air-sealed Ziploc baggie with enough pot to last a year inside.

"No... way... am I EVERRR... going to smoke that." Bakura spoke, emphasizing every other word.

"Why the FFFFUUUUCK..." Marik screeched to the maximum capacity of his vocal cords. "...would your doctor hide pot in his wife's crack?"

"Well, I told you, he had it in a place no one would ever look. It won't kill you, you've been smoking it the last few days."

Marik and Bakura looked at each other, wide-eyed, and then just shrugged and followed Ron out of the room, making sure to meticulously erase all evidence they were ever there.


"I can't believe we're FREE!" Marik and Bakura screamed together to each other after all the kids had been dropped off on 5 o' clock in the evening on their last day of community service, which was also the last day of school. At the apartment building, Marik and Bakura almost got into a fight wrestling their way to the front of the bus.

"Well, guys, remember the plan?" Ron asked.

Marik and Bakura walked out of the bus and stood at the door, with Bakura handing the still full-to-busting bag of weed to Ron.

"Yep." Marik said simply.

"Okay, tell it to me."

"Well, at 5 in the afternoon tomorrow afternoon, you will have your flying device reattached to the motor of the bus and we will be picked up at that point." Bakura stated.

"Yes, and, with a month's supply of food and water, we will take an extended vacation... in SPACE! YYEAAHH!" Marik yelled, high-fiving Bakura so many times, they got bruised hands.

"Right! Well, enjoy your last night on earth for a long while, my friends." Ron said, saluting the psyched Yamis.

"See you then, captain." Marik saluted with Bakura and didn't stop until after the yellow bus faded into the sunset.

It's time to kick this motherfucking show into overdrive.


Okay, so I originally planned on writing a sequel to this fanfic where they rode around in space, but then I lost interest in the project. If you, the reader, would like to pick it up for some ungodly fucking reason, you have my permission.