I… updated…. O.o What a strange turn of events. *clears throat* Anyways, I bring to you chapter 8! Aptly named Chapter 8, for lack of a better… wittier name. So unless you can come up with a better one, BE HAPPY! Hurrah! Sheesh… I had to reread the fic cause I had forgotten where I left off. Bad Delas, bad! I'm a horrible author -_-*… Well I hope this is one of those 'har har that was funny' sort of thing. I love making people laugh. Almost as much as I love reviews *not so subtle hint*
4/14/03- I went through and fixed all the grammar mistakes. Can't believe I missed some of those… gotta stop writing at one o'clock in the morning…I need a beta reader…
Optimus stared at his email in confusion. The NAACP?
"What the hell...?" he muttered and double-clicked it open. He quickly scanned it over. Then punched his computer monitor halfway across the room.
"MAGNUS!"
~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~
Ratchet lifted his head from his current work and as a distant disturbance caused the room to vibrate slightly.
"What the hell...?" he muttered and put down the report he was reading, just as his intercom buzzed.
"Hello, Ratchet here." Ratchet answered, getting a serious case of déjà vu.
"RATCHET? WHERE'S MAGNUS?!" Optimus' voice tore through the com. Ratchet cringed as sparkers flew.
"I'M GOING TO KILL HIM! WHERE IS HE?!"
"Oh. In that case, he's right here. Med Room 52. Been here for a few days since that… ermmmm… window cleaning accident. Though why he was cleaning your windows Optimus, I'll never know."
Ratchet heard Optimus let out a nervous noise from his vocals through the com.
"Yes ermmm well… are you SURE he's been there the whole time?"
"I'm certain." Ratchet confirmed.
"How certain?" Optimus asked.
"Pretty damn certain." Ratchet answered.
"How can you be so certain?"
"Well, considering he has no working legs, I highly doubt he got up and walked out without my noticing it. And he's not exactly the quietest guy in the world."
"Oh. Well in that case, this conversation never happened."
"Right." Ratchet turned off the intercom and stared at it for a minute, then shrugged and went back to work.
~*~*~
Optimus stared at his hands, twiddling his thumbs in boredom and confusion. If Magnus is still there, then who could have done it? They mentioned Magnus, said that he referred me to them… maybe they were wrong. Could have been someone else… someone like…whoa, I just had one major sense of déjà vu.
Decided on something, Optimus stood up from his desk and strode out the door, idly wondering if Magnus had gotten his door fixed or if people were still streaming into his office, hoping to steal his stapler. Magnus had a very nice stapler. A good red one, like in the movie Office Space (luv that movie). Note to self: see if anybody has taken Magnus' stapler yet. I could use a new one.
~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~
Hearing a knock at his door, Rodimus peered through the peephole and let out a yelp of surprise to see Optimus standing there, fuming. Hurriedly, he fumbled with the locks and opened the door.
"Optimus old buddy! Where have you been lately? The guys have been missing you! And, from what I hear, so have some of the ladies…"
"Can the sweet talk Rodimus. I have to talk with you."
Rodimus fidgeted nervously and glanced around the room.
"Oh? What can I help you with?" he asked in an as innocent voice as possible. Not that he was very good at it. Which, of course, Optimus know fully well. He's not a complete moron. He has his moments. Actually, this was going to be one big moment.
"Do you know what the NAACP is?"
"Would you take no as an answer?"
"If there was money involved, maybe. Now answer the question." Optimus said, underlying his words with the veiled threat of his fist hovering inches in front of Rodimus' face.
"Ok ok. I really don't know what the… what was it you called it? The NCAA? Well I don't know what it is. Why do you ask?"
"The NAACP." Optimus corrected. "And it's a good thing you don't, because otherwise I'd have to kill you."
"Really? Why?"
"Well apparently, someone got in contact with them and told them I would make a great 'spokesman' for their little group."
"Ok, I'm with you so far." Rodimus said. "So why would you make such a great 'spokesman'? Why didn't they pick me? Everyone knows I'm way sexier than you'll ever be."
Optimus pointedly ignored that remark. Gotta stay focused. "The NAACP stands for… ugh Primus, what was it… something really weird… the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People."
"Colored people? Hell, we're all colored! You're red, Arcee is pink… I've got the cool flame thing goin' on…"
Optimus whacked him upside the head.
"Colored as in black you nimrod."
"But you're not…"
"…" Optimus was silent, his eyes daring Rodimus to finish the statement
"Uh..." Rodimus frantically searched for something to day, and decided on a little sucking up.
"Whoa, that's horrible! Who would do such a thing to you?!"
Optimus slung his arms around Rodimus' shoulders, gently patting him on the shoulder. He leaned in close to Rodimus' face.
"That," he whispered conspiratorially, "is what you're going to do for me. You have two days to find the person responsible, or I'll have Ratchet slap on a breast plate and turn you into a femme."
Rodimus look distinctly distraught. That gave Optimus a small sense of satisfaction. Not a big one, mind you. Rodimus wasn't that hard to intimidate. One time, Daniel had brought a dog to HQ. It was this big old German Shepherd, really nice and friendly. Well Rodimus took one look at it and freaked out. It was probably the four legs. Big numbers like that always confused him.
"Yes, sir." He confirmed meekly.
Optimus smiled to himself. Good dog…
~*~*~ ~*~*~ One day later ~*~*~ ~*~*~ ~*~*~
Beep… beep… beep… beep… beep…
Ignore it. Just ignore it.
Beep… beep… beep… beep… beep…
No really. Ignore it. They'll stop calling after a while.
Beep… beep… beep… beep… beep…
Come on, where's you're self control?! You've stood for hours on the battle field, never flinching while facing horrible destruction and dismemberment! Don't let a puny insignificant phone call ruin that image! Be proud! Be all that you can be! Join the army
Beep… beep… beep… beep… beep…
"AGHHHHHHHH." Optimus roared and picked up the phone.
"Hello, Optimus Prime speaking." He said pleasantly. Anyone with any shred of common sense would have killed themselves on the spot to save themselves the misery. He was using the Voice Of Doom™. None could resist its calling. Doom is approaching… muahahahaha…
"Hello, this is the Carl Mitch with the NAACP. We talked earlier on the phone about our proposal. We gave you a few days to think about it and were hoping you would have a response by now."
Optimus drummed his fingers on his desk and swiveled nervously in Magnus' stolen swivel chair. (I know, I know. Magnus deserved to have that chair. I'm cruel)
"Look, I don't know what kind of mental block you have buddy, but get this through you're thick skull. I'm not black."
"Now sir, it's not something to be ashamed of. We here at the NAACP want you to feel proud of your heritage. We feel that all blacks should have an equal place in society. Long have we been oppressed… and you're our savior."
"I'm not sure I'm following you here…"
"We need to bring ourselves into the public eye. We need someone important, someone the public can identify with. After seeing the photo we received, I must say, you'd be perfect for the job."
"Ok, hold the phone--" Optimus began.
"Mr. Prime, you could become the savior of the oppressed people!" Carl yelled excitedly.
"I'M NOT BLACK!" Optimus screamed at him.
"Ok, look dude. I saw your picture! And let me say… you're black." he protested.
"I haven't always looked like that!"
"Then what was it?! A reverse Michael Jackson?" Carl exclaimed.
Optimus let out a long-suffering sigh.
"Here, let me spell it out for you. If you so much as even think about calling me again, I'll send over my evil pet Chihuahua to shove a cactus up your--"
Carl pulled at his tie nervously.
"Mr. Prime, no need to get creative."
"My friend… you haven't even begun to see creative. Everything pales in comparison to what I'm going to do." Optimus said dangerously.
"And that is?" Carl asked nervously.
"Oh… you'll know it when you see it."
Disclaimer: Don't mean to diss the NAACP. I totally respect their work.