Also, I have not been to Disneyland for a very VERY long time. No doubt there have been many hideous changes since my last visit. Just try to ignore and I'll do my best to make this fic make sense. *sarcastic laughter*

Disclaimer: I do not own the Twins or the Matrix universe, but I DO now own the pair of silver boxers Two left at my house last Saturday. What's that you say? I should give them back? HELL NO! I also (thank the bloody gods) do not own Disney or anything affiliated with them.

Feedback: E-mail me at [email protected]. No flames please.

CHAPTER ONE:

"No.. no I dun wanna get jiggy with Justin Timberlake.."

"Excuse me?"

"Itssssss not hiz fault he smells like a potato..."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Two sharply glanced over at his twin who was drooling profusely over the leather covered car seat. Finally clueing in to the fact that his counterpart was engaged in sleep-talk, Two slapped his brother's forehead and quickly turned back to the road as if nothing had happened. One jolted awake – screaming - and drenched in a cold sweat.

"AGH! PUT IT AWAY JUSTIN, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PUT IT AWAY!"

"Good morning to you too."

One turned groggily towards his brother, yawned and stretched his arms as far as the confining space of the car would allow. He seemed to be completely unaware of the fact that he had been talking in his sleep - a fact that Two would enjoy hinting at for hours to come.

They had been driving for three days now, however their trip was frequently interrupted with bathroom breaks and One's desire to take pictures of funny looking rocks they drove past. He insisted the last rock they went past looked insanely like "Wonder Boy" (aka Neo), though Two could see no particular resemblance.

After the two of them had managed to escape the Merovingian's Babysitting Assignment of Hell only a few days ago (in which they were locked in a pink room with a horrid child program for six hours) the Twins had joyfully migrated towards the nearest super-market for a frisky round of "bun poking." However, they're giddy smiles from watching horrified old women gasp with disgust at the little finger holes they left in the fresh rolls soon disintegrated as both were tapped on the shoulder. They had turned around and were shocked to see the Merovingian, drenched in blue paint, wearing bunny ears and a sign with the words "I HAVE A SHRIVELED BODY PART" childishly scrawled upon it. For some odd reason he was wearing paper clips on his toes. Needless to say his pedicure and manicure were completely ruined.

The Twins never did figure out how the Merovingian got out of the room, but they believed it had something to do with the fact that he promised Samantha he would program NSYNC as her personal playmates for eternity. Obviously the experience had left the French man with a burning itch for revenge, and he got right too it – by sending the Twins on another fool errand. When the two of them protested, the Merovingian simply threatened to deactivate their credit cards and reprogram them both with beer bellies. The Twins quickly agreed and got into the car, much to the Merovingian's dismay.

Which is where they were now – One smoothing out the wrinkles in his silver coat that had manifested from his nap and Two driving (like he always did), trying as best he could to follow the miserable directions the Merovingian had scribbled on a cocktail napkin. They were to follow these directions exactly, and upon reaching their destination they were to find and pick up a list of things the Merovingian and written rather illegibly on a piece of pink Kleenex. What exactly the Merovingian needed these things for the Twins did not know, but knowing their boss they preferred as little details as possible. From the look of the directions they were about a day away from their destination – and One was very hungry.

"My stomach's growling."

"Punch it."

"I already did. It won't stop."

"Well what the hell do you want ME to do about it?"

"Well maybe if you STOP somewhere to get some FOOD.."

Two gripped the steering wheel tighter in aggravation. He had been driving for over 72 hours without rest (not that he really needed it, being a Bad Ass program assassin and all), dealing with various slow and annoying motorists who refused to speed up while his brother twitted his thumbs like an idiot in the passenger seat. Usually, between the two of them, he was the one who displayed the most emotional control in these types of situations. But that last soccer mom in the ugly blue van a few hours back really pissed him off when she refused to go through numerous red lights. She had about ten hyper rug rats in the back who bounced off the van walls and pressed their chubby faces against the windows – making obnoxious fish faces that clearly accentuated their natural ugliness. When Two was finally able to pass her, the mom rolled down her window and screeched "GET OFF THE ROAD YOU FRAKY JACKASS!" To which Two promptly replied "I'M A PAID ASSASSIN AND I KNOW YOUR LICENSE PLATE NUMBER!" He would visit her again. Oh yes.

"MCDONALDS!"

One's sudden outburst caused Two to snap back into reality and turn his head towards his brother – whose face was pressed against the passenger side window while his finger pointed repeatedly at the restaurant coming up on the right.

"No. We are not stopping." Two answered shortly.

"But I'm hungry!"

"If it weren't for you, we would be there and back by now!"

"What did I do?!"

Two made his voice go higher in a bad imitation of his brother, which was rather stupid considering they had the exact same voice to begin with.

"Oh look at me. I'm One. That means I'm important. I want to stop every 15 minutes to take stupid pictures of boring rocks that, in my deranged insanity, figure to be likenesses of stuff. Oh look at that! Why, it looks like a piece of broccoli-EEYGH!"

Two was interrupted with One poking him in the eye. The car swerved dangerously for a few seconds before Two gained control again.

"You ASS." Two muttered, blinking repeatedly behind his sunglasses like a new born possum in the sun.

"I'll do it again in a minute if-"

"ALRIGHT! WE'LL STOP!"

Grumbling, Two yanked the steering wheel to the side, forcing the car to turn rather violently around so that they were now driving against traffic. A few cars frantically shifted out of the way before Two finally got back into the right lane which lead to the McDonalds they had passed a few minutes ago. An old woman driving a rather hideous station wagon managed to poke her wrinkly hand out the window to finger the Twins as she went by them. One simply smiled and waved.

Two turned into the fine establishment - the tires screeching on the musty pavement quite loudly- and looked to his brother who had a somewhat giddy smile across his face.

"We've already wasted enough time. Drive-Thru only."

"Fine." One sat up a bit in his seat, getting ready to order.

"AND…" Two continued as they pulled up to the illuminated menu, ".. no Nuggets."

One's eyes widened at that last comment.

"NO NUGGETS? YOU CAN'T DENY ME THE NUGGETS!"

Two turned towards the menu, glancing thoughtfully at the various items listed. "You never finish them anyway." He waved the air dismissively.

"Welcome to McDonnalds, may I take your order?" A voice crackled into the air, interrupting the tension between the two programs.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was in the drivers seat and thus closer to the menu, Two took all the time he needed. Stroking his imaginary beard, he read each combo carefully - weighing the estimated calorie counts in his head. One was eerily quiet.

"…. Sir? Are you there sir?"

Two decided that the combos were too fatty and moved on.

"Yes.. I was wondering if you have-"

"NUGGETS!"

"Shut up! I was ordering!"

"NUGGETS!"

"Will you SHUT the HELL UP?"

"NUGGETS!"

"AAAAAGH! NO! You never finish them! You just eat a few, poke at the rest, and complain that they're too spongy to be real meat! AND THEY MAKE YOU GASSY!"

"NUGGETS!"

"So.. That's four Chicken Nugget combos?"

"NO!" Two turned towards the speaker, desperate to get his order in and cancel his brother's requests. He did not want to be in a car with his gassy twin after four Nugget combos.