Updated A/N (10/21/13): Hello guys, welcome to my epic beast of a story! This started out as some fun, not-so-serious project about Turbo living with me in my tiny one-bedroom apartment and how we drive each other insane…mostly because HE starts it. This starts off prior to the events of my one-shot "Have Some Candy" but will eventually move past it.

The first 13 chapters or so have more of a parody feel to them than the rest of the fic because after I realized how popular this thing was getting (something I still don't understand, lol), I figured I better start adding some semblance of a plot to this thing. It gets more serious later on anyway, but still maintains an overall lightness to it. So I hope you guys that are just beginning this thing enjoy it! :)


Setting: Southern USA, large urban environment, sometimes will go to other places when the situation calls for it.

One Turbo-Tastic Day at a Time

Late November 2012

"Got anything to eat around here?"

That was the first thing he ever said to me. Not "hello" or "Hi, what's your name?" or "Nice to meet you!" or anything that a normal human being would say when they knock on your door at ten o'clock pm.

Then again, he wasn't exactly human…I think. I had to blink a few times because I thought I was hallucinating or in some kooky dream or that perhaps I had time-traveled backwards about a month to Halloween. He wasn't very tall, about five foot five, which is about two inches taller than me so he had to very slightly tilt his eyes down to look at me. The eyes in question were lemon yellow orbs with dark chocolate centers and he possessed a medium shade of gray as a skin color. A white jumpsuit with red stripes down the sleeves complete with a white driving helmet with a large red "T" on the front of it was his outfit. The smile was one that dripped with an air of condescending sarcasm, like he thought it was funny that he was disturbing me at an inconvenient hour.

Well, maybe not disturbing me per se, seeing as how I'm a night owl as opposed to a morning person, so I tend to stay awake all night…blame my job.

Yep, I'm definitely imagining things because this costumed psycho at my front door was donning an impressive make-up of my newest favorite Disney character-slash-villain: Turbo from the latest Disney film, "Wreck-It Ralph".

I stood there staring at him for who knows how long before I could speak.


Not the most impressive or interesting thing I could have said but, I mean come on really? I'm still shell-shocked that this is what I opened my front door to. The Turbo imposter rolled his eyes at me and proceeded to shove me out of his way to enter my living room, dumping what appeared to be a duffel bag over the back of my couch where it bounced a few times on the cushion.

"You deaf or something? I asked if you had anything to eat around here," he repeated his question as he took a quick look at his new surroundings. He didn't seem too impressed, and quite frankly I couldn't blame him. My apartment is far from a dump but it isn't exactly fancy-schmancy either. It looks like something ripped from the late 80's…yeah.

I continued to gawk and stare as he rounded my breakfast bar area that led into my small kitchen and I let the door swing shut slowly behind me, completely baffled that this creep that let himself inside like he did.

"Hey, mister, I don't know what the heck's going on, but you can't just waltz up in here like you own the place," I told him firmly, swiftly following him into the kitchen.

"Turbo" appeared to be ignoring me, which only further angered me, and he swung my refrigerator door open to check out its innards. He made a face that looked to be a mix of disappointment and disgust, then slowly let the door fall shut. After that, he started opening all my cabinets in search of food.

"Do you mind?!" I argue with him, having to go behind him to shut the doors again since he was leaving them open.

"Geez, what kind of place you runnin' here?" he asked me, not bothering to reply to any of my previous statements. "You've got barely enough food to feed a pigeon with!"

I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to calm myself down in the presence of who was obviously an escapee from an asylum that went buck wild at some Comic-Con meet and then somehow ended up here.

"First of all, I haven't gone grocery shopping yet this week. Second of all, it doesn't matter because you are leaving."

I was a little unnerved when he laughed at my last comment and I began to think that maybe I should be heading for the phone and dialing 911.

"Listen, blondie-"

I interrupted him to tell him my name but he threw a hand in my face to get me to pipe down, which only irritated me further if that was even possible.

"As I was saying, blondie," he started over, smirking while he said the last part. "I had a heck of a trip getting here and I'm starving. So it would be wise of you to feed me, pronto."

"Dude, I don't even know you!"

He grinned smugly while saying, "I'm Turbo, of course. Surely you recognize me."

I gave him a flat look. "I know who you're dressed as, but you're not the real one. That's impossible."

"Not quite," he replied, turning to check out what was in my pantry, which doubled as the laundry room. "Wow, Mother Hubbard has more in her cupboards than you."

I was growing impatient and I felt my temper rise. "Look, Turbo"-I threw air quotes around the name-"if you don't get out of here in the next minute or two, I'm going to call the police and let them handle it. Then you can eat their prison food."

The fact that this did nothing to wipe that stupid grin of his off his face only made me want to strangle him. Geez, what was it going to take to get rid of this nut job!

"Still don't believe me, huh?"

It wasn't really a question, as it was more than obvious that I wasn't buying his story. I crossed my arms in front of me, trying to look somewhat threatening even though there's no way I would win a fight against this creep if he were to turn suddenly violent.

"Of course not," I snipped, drumming one set of fingers along the base of my elbow impatiently. "The real Turbo is an animated fictional character from an animated fictional movie."

His smile fell just a hair at hearing that and he placed a hand over his heart. "Ouch, that stings."

"Besides, even if you were him, you'd be dead anyway because you melted in lava."

"Turbo" cracked another grin upon hearing that and waved a hand at me in a dismissive manner. "Yeah, as much as that sucked, I just reset at the end of the movie. Disney characters don't ever really die in their movies, you know."

I inspected him a little more. "Why aren't your teeth yellow?"

He shuddered at that, as if the very idea disturbed him. "Special effects added that in after. Thought it made me look creepier, I guess."

"Why don't you have a lisp?"

"That was King Candy's way of talking, not mine." He sounded almost offended. "If I'd used my normal voice, people would have recognized me immediately, don't you think?"

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?" I asked him bluntly, my eyes still lowered in a glare.

"So long as you have a question for everything."

He seemed to be enjoying making a mockery out of me and I personally am not one that wishes to be bullied. Dealt with that enough in junior high on up, thank you, and I don't need it from a delusional jerk pretending to be a Disney villain.

Then again, I don't feel like being a wise guy to someone that is potentially dangerous…who happens to be standing conveniently next to my set of sharp cooking knives.

I blew a hard breath out in exasperation. "Okay, fella, I'll admit that the paint job"-I grabbed his gray hand and sort of shook it a bit-"is convincingly real and that's an impressive mask you got on but-"

I stopped what I was doing as realization hit me. My eyes widened and I looked down to see that the guy only had…whoa, four fingers? And not like a hand that used to have five and then had one surgically removed or something, he literally only had four fingers. Just like in the movie.

My head began to feel a bit light and I felt the blood rushing out of my face. Before I knew what I was doing, I dropped his hand so I could grab him by his chin-

"Hey, no touching!"

-and inspected him for the edges of a mask and I'll admit I might have poked him in the nose much to his extreme displeasure. He jerked his head out of my grip at the same time he shoved my hand away, a rather annoyed look present on his face.

"Ever hear of personal space?" he snapped at me, rubbing his nose with one hand.

I ignored what he said because frankly I was still in shock. "You're really Turbo? No fooling?" I asked him slowly, still not able to believe this was happening to me.

"Of course, did you think someone would really go through all this trouble to paint themselves up to look like me?" he replied, talking down to me like I was some ignorant child.

Holy crap, I'm standing here in my small galley kitchen with a Disney villain…..one that in my opinion is one of the most dangerous ones, regardless of the fact that he happens to be my favorite. I'm not sure whether to be somewhat joyful that I'm actually meeting the guy, scared that he will end up killing me, or perhaps be worried about my mental health.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," Turbo said in an exasperated tone, as if he could read my mind about him potentially hurting me . "It would violate the terms of my probation if I leave a mark on you and I'm not really in the mood to go back just yet."


"Long story, you don't want to hear that right now," he added quickly after he saw the panicked look I was wearing, yet he continued to display an air of casualness as if nothing he had said or done since arriving was out of the ordinary. "So…you gonna feed me or what?"

I'm what you might consider a loner if you ever got the chance to meet me. I have maybe three friends that I actually talk to on a regular basis and even then I don't really go out and do anything with them. Not that I'm rude or anything, I just value my privacy. I like coming home and being by myself so I can unwind from the stresses of the everyday world. Besides they're busy with their own jobs or even kids, so there.

So the fact that I was now suddenly saddled with a houseguest did absolutely nothing to make me feel at ease. This was way out of my comfort zone and I wasn't sure what the heck to do with him. One thing for sure, I was not going down the road to Wal-Mart and going shopping this late at night (I prefer getting there at seven AM and being out in thirty minutes flat), so I ended up driving the guy to the 24-hour McDonald's.

Luckily, they keep their lobby open the entire time because there was no way I was sitting in my car at the drive-thru waiting for his majesty to decide what he wanted. Yeah, he'd never been to McDonald's before, go figure. I pretty much wound up just getting him a Big Mac with fries and a Coke since he didn't seem to know what to get.

Me? Yeah, I like their fries but not a fan of much else they have. I don't even like coming inside public places in general, as I don't do good in crowds. Even though the lobby was empty, I felt like all the workers were staring at us…okay, maybe not so much me as Turbo since he was so odd looking. Not sure if anyone recognized him as the movie hadn't been out but a few weeks.

Not that he was concerned that anyone was looking at him. He probably could've either cared less or basked in the attention. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd just started signing autographs right there on the napkins to hand out.

So there I sat at a booth in McDonald's across from a fictional movie character. How the heck was the possible? I couldn't fathom how this crazy scenario had taken place. Was it because I just started writing a fanfiction about him? Nah, couldn't be, I had written several of those in my life and none of those characters had come knocking on my door. Thank goodness, I don't know how I'd feel if the entire cast of "Disney's Recess" among others had come for an extended visit.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard my houseguest suddenly proclaim, "You call this crap food? This is the nastiest thing I've ever eaten!"

I blinked a few times and saw that he was holding the Big Mac at an angle to demonstrate the amount of grease that was dripping off it. It was rather gross, but as I said before I'm not a big fan of the burgers here.

"Will you pipe down?" I whispered to him, glancing over at the workers behind the counter and hoping they weren't hearing this. "No need to be rude about it."

"BurgerTime had better food than this!"

I groaned silently in my head as his voice got louder and I tried to keep mine in a whisper. "You're going to get us thrown out, jerkface!"

"So what, it's not like we're coming back here," he grumpily told me and then that's when he did the unthinkable.

I watched in stunned shock and horror as Turbo stood up and threw the offensive burger like a baseball towards the front counter where it made a sticky slap against the overhead menu board before sliding down and plopping onto the floor. My jaw was dropped and I couldn't even find the words to describe how embarrassed I was. I couldn't even get up out of my seat, he quite literally dragged me out of the booth, carrying the fries and drink with him (those he'd had no problem with) and started pushing me out the door towards the parking lot.

"That'll teach you to try clogging up my arteries!" was his parting shot as we exited the building and I had one hand covering my face as humiliation swept over me. The entire way to the car he would not shut up about the vile dinner he'd just been subjected to and by the time I had buckled up in my seat I was about ready to shove the rest of his fries down his throat and make sure he choked on them.

"I cannot believe you just did that," I muttered as I rested my head on my steering wheel.

"Well, I cannot believe you expected me to eat that," he quipped back, shoving a few fries in his mouth in the process. "I haven't even known you for thirty minutes and you're already trying to kill me."

I laid back in my seat and gave him a hard glare. "Look, buddy, let's get one thing straight. You don't like something, you don't chunk it like a two year old. How old are you supposed to be anyway?"

Turbo slurped the rest of the Coke down and…ugh, he threw his garbage out the window for it to land in the next parking space. Great, I guess we're going to add littering to his list of crimes.

"I dunno, about thirty I guess," he finally answered me as he let the seat back so he could lay down some.

"Then act like one, you're a few years older than me for Pete's sake."

"Oh really, I thought you were like forty, Miss Prude."

"Don't make me get my can of mace out."

"What's that?"

How can he not know what…you know what, never mind.

"It's something that will melt your eyes right out of your sockets," I lightly fibbed, hoping that if he really thought I was threatening him that he would either start behaving himself or, better yet, leave.

He appeared to consider that for a few seconds then finally he relaxed back with his hands behind his head as if it were the most comfortable spot in the world. I watched him for a few seconds to make sure he wasn't going to do or say anything else then started the car up and began driving.

"I suppose this means you're still hungry?" I asked him with a hint of sarcasm tagged to it.

"You catch on fast."

I guess I'm going to Wal-Mart after all. Splendid. Perfect. Yee-haw. Turbo-freaking-tastic.

Will I survive Wal-Mart? And will I find how just how he came to our world? More importantly, will I lose my sanity?