[An unremarkable trip into insanity and bagels coated in chocolate syrup 'n' Pixie stix. Mmmm. Tha's gooood shtuff, it is.]

Disclaimer: If I owned any of the characters in this story, do you think I'd only have $12.35? I mean, really. I'm still saving money up to buy the Squee! Collection and a GIR toy.


To attempt to explain why, exactly, GIR found itself trapped in a room with a rubber toy that looked eerily like a skeleton with hair sprouting out of its head (hell, it WAS a skeleton with hair sprouting out of its head) and the floating, severed head of a bunny (not to mention the incredibly pissed-off doll with bolts for eyes and feet like razors) would be long, disturbing, and freakish. So, thusly, it shall be explained. Duh.

It began with a cupcake - chocolate, yummy, with what looked like tuna (but was probably not) used as frosting. GIR was happily (read: obliviously) devouring the scrumptious treat, standing in the middle of a busy, packed street. Needless to say, the local hospital was slightly disturbed by a mass amount of incoming victims from car crashes. (Several were said to have been found moaning "The thing what eats…the thing what eats! Damn it, beware the thing what EATS!") Considering the frosting was most likely not tuna at all, the whole incident could be blamed on it. The following incident, that is, not the multiple-cars-smashing-into-buildings/pedestrians/other cars/Japanese tourists/grandmas/Boy Scouts incident.

The incident involving the floating bunny head with large, dead-like X's for eyes.

"Bewaaaare," it moaned and GIR paused, beady eyes of its dog costume staring at the floating head. An odd sound rather like helium escaping a balloon very slowly started in the air. "Beware, for DOOM is at hand…"

GIR thought on this for a moment and happily returned to slobbering over its own paw, the cupcake long since swallowed. Doom's always at hand, you know. Has something to do with the fact that the authoress has yet to gain total control of the world. Oh, but one day, ONE DAY, she shall rule the world on a throne of solid un-melt-able chocolate with a crown of bagels on her head as she passes judgment with a not-quite-iron fist. Um. Sorry.

Noticing that GIR was not paying attention, the bunny head (which shall be henceforth titled Nailbunny) scowled and roared an expletive that caused a five-year old happily skipping by to suddenly experience spontaneous bleeding from the ears and mental scarring that would last for years to come. Fun, ain't it? "Damn it all, I'm trying to do my [cens-hey, is that a nickel?-ored] job! Pay [ce-aw, c'mon, I want the nickel!-nsor-don't make me come over there!-ed] attention!!"

The five-year old passed out as, somewhere, a fourteen-year old authoress screamed "The Brain Fleas are eatin' my poooor, defenseless brain! Curse you, banana monkey! Chocolate roller coaster kisses you!" Not that it really has anything to do with the story.

GIR stared, the helium sound persisted, and the Brain Fleas continued their assault.

"Awwww, is you hurrrrrtin'?" GIR asked sympathetically, though the effect was lost considering the high pitch of its voice.

"What?" Nailbunny questioned. He would have blinked if he actually had eyeballs, which makes one wonder how he could see in the first place. Probably has something to do with how Sailormoon manages to get away with her secret identity despite the fact that maybe three beings in existence have hair like hers, and only ONE is a blonde Japanese girl with enormous blue eyes and a voice (in Japan) so high it cracks glass.

"Ain't got a body!" GIR explained deeply. "Whooo yeah! Doin' da monkey dance in da street!"

A bus of screaming tourists went careening around GIR, smashing into the face of a Nameless Building That Will Be Smashed By A Bus Of Screaming Tourists. Yes. Stare at the intellect.

Then, from the heavens, came a Voice that rang out in an authority-filled tone that scared the crud out of Nailbunny and caused GIR to send a family in a station wagon plummeting off of a cliff. Don't ask where the cliff came from. It was…there. It is…the cliff of DOOM.

Anyway, the Voice said such: "Get on with it, you dumb moron!"

Thusly, intimidated by Ryan, the Evil Russian Fairy Muse of Horribly Painful Torture-y Doom-like Torture aka the Voice, the authoress ceased her campaign of battle against the vicious brain fleas and threw in a Senseless Plot Device. A flash of light lit the street, sending a pack of nuns to Afghanistan (where they proceeded to kick some Taliban butt) and GIR and Nailbunny into a convenient room with a moose.

The moose knows all. Do not taunt the moose.



Author's Notes: You know, this makes little to no sense. And I know the urge to flame me is like an itch on your back - you must appease it. I implore you, though, to not flame me! I'm already aware this is completely moronic. Such joy you must feel. Whatever the case, if anybody enjoyed this (YEAH RIGHT! And I don't like bagels with cream cheese or chocolate syrup…), review. Yeah, review. Heeeeheeeeheeee…

Darn brain fleas.