Sayonara Samurai
Original Young Adult Fiction
Written by The Funk Mistress
Part Four
One by one, the RIA Poss and DJs regained consciousness and rubbed their bruised little selves... some more strangely than others.
Upon noticing this, DinoGirl yelled at the DJ who will remain nameless, “Hey! Put that away! I seriously doubt you hurt that!”
One by one, they rose to their feet. Then, just as they were about to take to flight (again) DJ Benvenuto the Raccoon chimed in, “What are we gonna do to the giant deceptively demotic killer robots when we get there?”
“Wow. No one really thought of that, huh?” sighed DJ Skittles.
“You mean, flying isn’t enough?” The Funk Mistress asked.
Puzzled, confused, and other words synonymous with perplexed, the troubled teens sat down to ponder their enigmatic situation. (And that about sums up the big words for the evening. For the remainder of the story expect words like “poop” and “winky.”)
It was a sad sight to look upon such great heroes (yeah, right) fallen so far.
Suddenly, DJ Wang saved the day, “We should visit Steve in his home. He’ll know what to do!”
“But wait,” said DJ Fuji the Man Scout. “We don’t know where he lives!”
DJ Wang glared at him, “The After Burner cockpit, you troll!”
“Hehehe!” The Funk Mistress giggled.
Everyone stared at her.
“You said c**k!!!” The Funk Mistress squealed.
___
“There he is. Someone go ask him,” said Super Fly the Wise Guy, pushing DJ Benvenuto and DJ Fuji towards the door once they arrived at the local arcade.
“Oh please!” exclaimed DinoGirl. “What are we supposed to do? Go up to him and say, ‘Hey Steve. How do you defeat giant robots that are attacking planes?’”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what you do,” replied The General. He marched up to Steve, looked him square in the eye and asked, “Hey Steve. How do you defeat giant robots that are attacking planes?”
Steve, who was standing by the After Burner arcade machine, explained, “Easy. You know how you guys like to explode Coke bottles for fun in the parking lot sometimes? Do that, but use them as little anti-robot missiles.”
“Why? Liquid has no effect on them. I mean, they’re fighting in the middle of the ocean,” The General was perplexed.
“Man!” Steve screamed, grabbing The General by the shirt. “Don’t you see? Coca-Cola can take the paint right off a house! It can evaporate a nail in under a day! It is the government’s most closely guarded secret and its greatest disappointment. Never underestimate Coke! Never!
“You see, once upon a time, the nation’s greatest minds gathered together to create the ultimate weapon. They knew bombs wouldn’t be a threat forever. They needed to be ready for that day. So they made COKE. It was created to destroy all enemies of the U.S.A., but only in case bombs weren’t enough.
“The device’s code name was C.O.C.A.C.O.L.A (Cybernetic Obedient Construct Assembled for Ceaseless Observation and Logical Assassination) or C.O.K.E. (Construct Optimized for Killing and Exploration) for short. But something went wrong. Horribly wrong.
“It tasted too damn good. So it was bottled and shipped until the day it was needed for its real use.”
The General’s mouth opened in astonishment, “Whoa...”
“Yeah,” replied Steve. “Plus, they hurt if they explode on you.”
Steve looked over his shoulder to the After Burner arcade machine. His eyes glazed over, “I have to go guys. The President needs me and I can’t let him down. Just like you can’t let your friend down.”
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Meanwhile, The Funk Mistress had Hulk Smash, well, hulk smash open the space-time continuum again and she retrieved another cape. Once they had outfitted the Coke bottles with the extra cape, off they went to save the day. It was a long flight, so they started to talk.
“It’s not fair I got Q!” whined DJ Fuji.
“Too bad you didn’t get T, for troll!” shouted DJ Wang. “Go drown your tears in barbeque sauce!”
DJ Fuji struggled, “Q my name is Quintes, I come from... no place starts with Q!”
“Damnit Fuji, you’re disqualified! And you could’ve just used Qualthalas. It’s from Warcraft 3! And the Trolls live there!” DJ Wang snapped.
“R my name is Rafiki, I come from Rio, my wife’s name is Rena, and we brought back Ray-Bans,” came The General’s reply.
DJ Wang continued, “S my name is Simon, I come from...”
“Canada!” everyone shouted at the same time.
“Damn you all...” DJ Wang grumbled.
“You know,” DJ Fuji interjected. “We should have brought the potato cannon.”
“You’re such a lamester,” replied DJ Benvenuto. “If you shot it off in mid-air, there would be no friction. The recoil of the potato cannon would send you shooting backwards.”
“Screw you...” DJ Fuji pouted.
“Hey Fuji, what’s this?” asked DJ Benvenuto, holding up a picture of a Danceable R&B-influenced Pop Boy Band.
“Oh that’s just *NSyn...- Shite!” DJ Fuji fell plummeting to the ocean.
“Think of Arnold Schwarzenegger!!!” shouted The Funk Mistress after him.
DJ Fuji quickly floated back up, “I never thought Collateral Damage would save my life.”
“Yeah,” agreed Guy the Manager. “That’s a bad thought.”
“You think we should have brought pizza grenades?” DJ Fuji quietly inquired.
DJ Benvenuto glared at him. “...I will destroy you.”
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