I've always wanted to write H*R fanfictions. * Q *
Now I have. Also... I'm unlikely to update here any longer, but I'll probably be finishing my stories over at my livejournal. I'll post the link in my profile.
Strong Bad will always remember that this was his favourite soda, as he sits at Club Technochocolate's bar, asking quietly, "One Mountain Dew, Bubs."
Regrettably, Strong Bad remembers how he never got to say how much Homestar actually meant to him before life decided that his would end.
He wondered if anyone had stopped to consider just how young Homestar really was, as he looked to the gravestone marked, "A good heart still in his youth."
As much as Homestar disliked being punched in the face or smacked with a keyboard, since it was Strong Bad, he understood; and when the quieter, nicer moments came around, he was more content with that fact.
Strong Bad wasn't used to change, so the day Homestar tagged along to ruin Marzipan's tofu roast, he had to remind himself not to pummel the star-spangled oaf.
"I always wanted to own a dough-knots stowh, Stwong Bad, it was my dweam since about two weeks ago!" Homestar quips energetically, as Strong Bad gathers the ingredients in the kitchen.
"Half empty," "Half full!" "Half empty." "Half full, you ignowant pestomist!" Homestar fumbled with the words, earning a small chuckle from the masked man.
"Blah, Stwong Bad, blah! I'm a cwappy Stuntman! Oh wait. No. I'm a piwate," Homestar claimed, turning a 360 to show the wrestleman his seaworthy wardrobe.
"Not right now, Dorkstar, I'm writing," Strong Bad groaned, the clacking of his keyboard making this statement utterly clear. "Oh. Whatcha writin'?" He asked. His question was left unanswered, however, as Strong Bad left to answer the phone. Scrolling up with the mouse, he scanned the page to see all the sweet things his friend had been writing about him.
"Da Cheat, have you seen Stwo Bwo? I bowwowed his fondue pot and I gotta wetuwn it again," Homestar quipped, having apparently broken into the Strong house again. He heard a faint yelling, and found Strong Bad in the basement, being beaten by The Cheat and Strong Mad with pillows.
"You got the Turducken, Homestar?" "Yessiw, and you got the Suudsu?" "Yeah," "Then off we go to Mawzipan's," The propeller-capped boy said, leading the other away to ruin Marzipan's garden.
"I'm sowwy, Stwong Bad, I didn't mean to," Homestar began, starting to choke up, glancing at the broken laptop. "It's okay, Homestar, it's just a computer. Just a computer…" Strong Bad replied sadly, reminding himself that at least no one was hurt in the small explosion of the computer.
"DaAaAaAa, I won the blue ribbon engine!" "Wait, what? Never mind, Homsar, I don't want to know…" Strong Bad said, confused.
"That's right, maggot! You owe me five bucks, and four and a half pamphlets! You gotta fight for dat fweedom, but wight now you betta' pay up!" Homestar chided, poking Strong Bad with his wooden spoon.
"Stwong Bad, how long have we been fwiends?" "I dunno, Dorkstar, but I don't know if "friends" is the right word for that." "I think ouw fwiendship was fate, yanno. Like destiny," Homestar murmured.
"Youw computew must be sleepy, Stwong Bad, the scween turned off." "Yeah, Homestar, I know. It's called standby."
Covering his face so he wouldn't see the images on the screen, Strong Bad shrieked. "Why does he sparkle? Turn it off, off, OFF! Aghhhh!" "But Stwong Bad, it's a vampiwe movie! I love these! Dewe my favowite." "Except, Homestar, that's a fairy princess. Not a vampire."
"No, I am NOT going to cosplay with you." "But why not? We'we going to an anime convention, we pwactically HAVE TO." Homestar shoved a costume into Strong Bad's hands. "Please? Just this once?" "… fine, I'll do it. Just put away the puppy eyes, and I'll dress up as…" Strong Bad gulped, "… a cat? Is that what this is?" "Yup! Cat people aw' adowable."
"Come onnnnn, just one game of Goblin Keep Siege! Pleeeaaaaase?" The no-armed whitey begged, waving a box around as the pieces inside rattled loudly. "I'll let you have the giant battleaxe and the hot redhead!" "… fine."
The sound of aerosol paint escaping the can was all Strong Bad wanted to hear right now. Anything else would just not do, he knew this, as he stood behind Bubs' Concession Stand, writing grafitti on the brick wall. First, a star, then the On Point Kings symbols, after that, a skull. Simple stuff, this was.
"Ow, ow ow ow ow ow!" Strong Bad winced, pulling away from Homestar. "Stop that, Stwong Bad. I may not know much "bout bindin" injuwies, but keep still." "It's your fault this arm is broken." "No, you wewe the one who jumped off the woof of Bubs' concession stand. No mowe soy sauce fow you."
"Happy Decembuween, Stwong Bad! Hewe, I got you a pwesent!" Homestar chirped happily, handing the masked wrestler a carefully wrapped frame of a picture of the two.
For weeks he had waited to see the series finale of Caleb Rentpayer, and now it was on. "Homestar Runner, did you shoot Caleb Rentpayer?" "I suwe did!" "WHAT?"
A quick smack to the face would teach him not to go in Strong Bad's room. Especially after he had just taken a shower… and left the towel in the bathroom.
"You know it's too cold outside now to not weaw a shiwt." "So? I'm hot, I'm the coolest guy alive. I don't need no shirt," Strong Bad replied, immediately regretting doing so as he stepped outside.
"Make a Strong Sad one! Or Bubs'! Then we could raid his chocolate supply and finally get that Lamborghini hot tub!" Strong Bad cried, as Homestar put together a Bubs'-like voodoo doll.
He hadn't been able to sleep since… that. He just couldn't. He sat awake on the couch, reruns of Caleb Rentpayer and Half-Hour Death Metal Dungeon Hour on replay. He was lonely without that annoying voice near him. He just… missed him.
"Okay, so here's the plan," the masked marauder began; detailing everything they were about to do. "I'll trick Strong Sad, you bag The Cheat and then use him as bait for Strong Mad. We'll drag them off to Bubs', and lock them out of the house, which we will then have all to ourselves," Strong Bad smirked, leaving a bit of room for imagination.