Juana la Cliker-Rooster


Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers in any way.


Okay, so this was another one fo my attempts to write a short story. Guess who sucks at writing short stories. Anyway, someone out there will like it. Enjoy!


"Bumblebee, can't you stay still for even a half a breem?"

The question wasn't so odd, it was asked often. It was who was asking it that made the question so very, very strange strange.

"Chill out, Bulkhead. I'm doing the best I can, okay? This isn't exactly easy."

The smallest Autobot was doing his very best to sit still on the floor, balancing a half-broken glass vase precariously on his head. Across the room stood Bulkhead, attempting to paint his model and the object, but Bumblebee's need to squirm and move was starting to aggravate him. He off-lined his optics, tried to clear his head and on-lined them again to return to the painting.

It looked awful. Not because Bulkhead was a terrible artist (he had a way to go, but he improved quickly), but because he was forced to make constant changes due to Bumblebee's inability to sit still. The paint was only half-dried, colors mixed to create effects Bulkhead hadn't wanted, and even he knew that if anyone else looked at it, they would never be able to tell it was supposed to be an observational painting.

Another breem dragged by slowly before Bulkhead put down his brushes…his mops…gently and said,

"Listen, little buddy, I'm done. I can't paint you anymore. I appreciate you wanting to help me, but you gotta sit still." He expected Bumblebee to get angry, as he often did, but instead the littlest Autobot grabbed the vase off his head and placed it on the floor.

"Please tell me you're firing me, big guy. PLEASE." He gave Bulkhead the biggest innocent optics he'd ever given. Bulkhead answered,

"Yeah. You're fired."

"YES! Thank you!" Bumblebee darted off to Primus-knows-where, leaving Bulkhead alone and a little upset. He'd wanted to paint this image so badly because it had been driving him insane. It had to be done before he could move on. A voice from above shook him out of his current disappointment.

"Bulkhead, if you needed someone to sit still for you, you could have asked me. I have no objections." The largest Autobot didn't need to look around to know who was offering him help.

"I know, Prowl, I just didn't want to bother you."

"Don't worry about that. I've been watching your progress on that…what is it called?"


"Painting. Yes. I've been watching your progress on it. It seems to…uh…."

"Get uglier every time I touch it. I hate it. I stink at this art thing. Maybe I should quit." He earned himself a slap on the arm for saying the forbidden words. This time he looked down at Prowl, whose arms were crossed as he gave Bulkhead a disapproving look.

"What have I told you about giving up?"

"But I should. I mean, it looks like slag." Another slap on the arm. They didn't hurt seeing as Bulkhead's body was too hard and too enduring to feel them in a painful sense. They were more like pats on the arm for doing a good job. But he didn't tell his little friend this.

"Bulkhead, you can't give up on this."

"You aren't my creator, you know. You can't make me do this."

"No," answered Prowl, "but I can be a pain in your aft until you continue on it. If you want, I can hang down from the ceiling and stare at you while you eat, watch television, play video games and anything else you do. I can hide in the shadows of your room while you recharge and jump on you when you wake up. And all the while, I'll whisper in your audios about finishing this painting."

"That sounds kinda obnoxious. Bumblebee would do that stuff, not you."

"And I will if you give up."

Bulkhead frowned at the ninja, then sighed, obviously defeated.

"Fine. Go sit down over where Bee was and try to balance that glass thing on your head. This should be easy for you." Prowl didn't answer. He simply walked over to the same spot Bumblebee had occupied only moments ago, plopped down and placed the vase on his head as though he'd done it a million times before. He sat perfectly still, almost statue-like there for Bulkhead, who somewhat reluctantly picked up a mop and began to paint again.

At the end of the day, Bulkhead said,

"All right, I think I'm done."

"You're absolutely sure? You're not just saying that so you can stop?"

"Just get your aft over here and look at it." Prowl took the vase off his head and placed it back on the floor, then moved over to Bulkhead to look at the painting. He stared at it for a good long time, silent, contemplating, then finally, he said,

"Are my feet really that big?"


"You're very good then, at observing."

"Thanks, Now it's your turn. Draw something." Bulkhead pointed at the paper on the floor. "Go ahead, I want to see how you draw." Prowl stepped back and said,

"Uh…no, I'm good. Why don't you show your painting to Optimus? Maybe you can paint him while he's reading or watching his history vids."

"What, are ya scared?"

"Scared? Of what? Drawing? Of course not. I just…uh…Fine." He knelt down and drew a quick sketch of Bulkhead, who laughed when he saw it in its completed form.

"HAHAHAHA! Hehehe…hoo…Oh, geez, I'm sorry, Prowl. I'm not trying to laugh, I swear it. I—HAHAHAHAHA!"

It was by far the worst stick figure drawing he'd ever seen. It was even worse than one of little Sari's drawings, which weren't the most skilled drawings in the world. Prowl rolled his optics, unseen to Bulkhead and said,

"If you ever show this to anyone, I will offline you while you recharge." Bulkhead giggled for a few minutes, then gasped out,

"Hehehe…haaah…naw, don't worry, Prowl. I won't….hehe… But I think you oughta…snort... just stick to sitting still….hehehehe…!" The ninja-bot crumpled up the awful drawing and threw it into the trash receptacle before patting Bulkhead's arm.

"I'm happy you didn't give up, Bulkhead. Your painting is very nice. I understand now why it looked the way it did before, when you were using Bumblebee as your model. If ever need my help again, you know you're always welcome to come find me." He left the room, leaving a very happy Bulkhead rummaging through his trash.

He tacked the awful drawing to his wall and giggled again before starting a new painting.

Oh, dear God. Why did I write this? It's awful. But yes, it was another idea I wanted to get out. So…I hope you liked it?

Hey. Guess what. I'm gonna go see Jason Mraz in concert tonight, baby! Woot!