AN: In 1939, Disney released the film that doomed the world. This is its love child. Apologies for any unfunnies. D:
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The end.
"Oh, Timcampy! Why did you do it?" A young boy, with the sad eyes of an orphan and the stark white hair of someone old and forgotten, shook something small and golden in his hands. Allen Walker, 15 and (as established) an orphan, considered crying as he began to run down the lane towards home. Timcampy, slightly confused and disoriented, merely chomped his offending teeth. Allen slowed to a jog, then stopped and bent over on his knees once he saw the familiar broken mail box. Again, he held Timcampy up.
"Now that you've bitten the Lee's daughter again, Mr. Lee (Head Supervisor of the Town Council, etc.) will most certainly have you…well. You know." Timcampy didn't respond, merely wiggling his tiny legs feebly as Allen held him on either side. Timcampy had done the worst deed of them all, harmed the beautiful sister of the Head Supervisor of the Town Council. They were only his baby teeth growing in! How could they blame the sweet gold creature?
"Killed. Tim. The lethal injection! The final hour is upon you! As Head Supervisor of the Town Council, he can get anything he wants done, you know. Anything!" Allen tried another shake for emphasis. Timcampy wiggled.
"It'll be dreadful!" Shake. Squirm.
Allen gave up trying to make an impression, and dejected wandered down the path to the farm. The sad little sign, hanging from some baling twine on a post read:
Marian's Akuma
Fresh Akuma
Trained Akuma
Too Many Akuma!
FOR SALE
Allen had come to live with Marian Cross after his father had died, leaving little Allen an orphan, and was in training to become the next manager of the constantly in debt "Akuma" farm (who wants to buy Akuma? Seriously? Not until they make teacup and designer breeds.) After a terrible and scarring accident with a permanent marker, extra-strength bleach and a blade saw, Allen's sweet face had been marred to its current state. Having worked for years on the farm, Allen often grew unhappy with his lot in life, spent finding ways to collect money, wrassle Akuma, and avoid his belligerent master.Speaking of…
"Allen, you little shittle!" The tall (probably) drunken man stood at the edge of a rickety fence, holding a thin rope and a cattle prod. "Get your ass over here!"
"Oh…yes, master." Allen stuffed Tim down his shirt, and trotted over. How he hated working with the Akuma, they could back talk like nobodies business. That tendency to resort to violence and destruction also proved a hassle.
"No don't wanna, cho! Can't make me, cho!" The Akuma struggled on the end of the rope, alternately yelping and whining. As Allen pulled, and Cross lazily stood by and watched the boy, the Akuma fought the bath at every opportunity.
"Come on Saichiko! You're really disgusting!"
"Can't make me, cho! Too bad grandpa boy, cho!" Allen gritted his teeth. Today was not his idea of a good day. Those often involved candy, and bathroom breaks.
"Oh, Master! Something awful happened today!"
"This is my caring face."
"Tim bit that Lee girl again! The Head Supervisor of the Town Council will have him killed! You have to help! Oh please!"
"Did I mention this is my caring face? Now get back to work, idiot apprentice!"
"But Maste-"
"Do you seriously think I give a flying rat's ass?"
Allen promptly dropped the rope, lip quivering and eye's growing red tinged with rage. He ran off to the lean-to in the distance, with a spurt of energy.
"And if you dare start singing again, I'll cut your genitals off, ya hear me you idiot apprentice!" Cross shook a bottle of liquid of mysterious origins after the receding figure, then promptly flung it back. "Whatever. Want some?"
"Nah, I'm off the drink, cho."
Allen held Timcampy again, staring up at the cloudy gray sky, all the rain and wind had mysteriously stopped a few hours ago, which struck him as strange. Normally, Allen was quite an astute boy, but now, so torn between anger and self-pity, was too distracted to take much notice.
"I'm sorry, Tim! I tried, I really did." He held Timcampy tight against his chest. Timcampy merely wriggled, displeased, and chomped his tiny (baby? Questionable.) teeth together.
Suddenly, a dark, foreboding feeling filled Allen's gut as he heard the distinct and terrible jingle of a bike chain coming down the lane.
"Allleeeennn Walkerrrr? I need to speak to youuuu!" That slippery, slimy voice filled the air, and Allen looked up dejectedly.
"But! Head Supervisor Ko-!" Allen was cut off by the feeling of Timcampy being snatched from his hands, and having a mug of coffee shook in his face.
"This creature marred my perfect and beautiful sister! This is not acceptable!" He shoved Timcampy into a basket, and retracted his coffee filled hand.
"Now, I'll be taking this thing to the pound! Where he will be thrown into a cold metal cage!"
"No!"
"Then taken out, roughly! And strapped to a cold, metal table!"
"No!"
"Then a cold, metal-"
"Alright, I get the point."
"Ahem. Cold and metal needle will be injected! With poison! Into his little beastie veins! His life force draining from him!"
"No!"
"Then he will die! A cold and metal death!"
"I assumed that."
"What?"
"Well, you didn't need to tell me the last one. It's intuitive that if your injecting him with poison, he will die."
"Don't you get snarky with me! I'll increase your property taxes!"
"No!"
And with that, Komui veered off back down the lane, weaving all over the road (its hard to steer with no hands, mind you.) Allen sank to his knees and wailed to the sky.
"Why did you take my only friend?! Now I'm all alone in the world. And I don't even have a home I can go to, with family who loves me, and friends who need me! Nobody listens to me, even when I'm suicidal! Nobody would care if I died!" Allen began to sob this time, unable to contain his teenaged girl emotions. Then, a sudden squeal of brakes and a highly pitched and rage filled screech filled the air. A whoosh of gold flitted past Allen's head.
"Tim?!" Allen didn't think, he just ran after the golden spot in the distance. When Allen caught up to Timcampy, he grabbed him and ran off towards the small lean-to that was his home.
"Oh Tim! You came back! You came back for me!" Allen exclaimed, almost jumping up and down in excitement.
"Oh no, no no no!" Suddenly, Allen looked out the window. The Head Supervisor would surely come back! And this time, there would be no escaping the property taxes. Allen sank again, realizing that his false hope was now crushed again. He would never be free.
"Somewhere over the rainbooow-DWARGH."
"I warned you not to sing that song! You look nothing like Judy Garland!"
Allen briefly registered the feeling of being hit with a full bottle of cheap vodka, then blacked out briefly.
"That's it! I'm running away!" Allen suddenly sat straight up, clambered to his feet, grabbed Timcampy and carefully stepped around the broken glass around the floor, and stormed out the door. The slam of the door to the shack behind him caused it to tremble disturbingly, but Allen was already marching out and away, past the cornfields that stretched to eternity in this everloving place.
After a few miles of non-stop breakneck walking pace, Allen slowed and finally stopped. Panting, he (attempted to) looked at Timcampy, perched on the crown of his head.
"I'm hungry." Of course, Timcampy didn't respond. But someone did.
"Well, then, duckie, I'll feed you." Allen whipped around, only to be met face to face with a purple locked and intimidating tall man.
"I'm Jeryy, I'm a cook! And a part time fortune teller!"
"O-oh! Er. Hi?"
"I'm pretty sure I'm getting a vision for you!" Jeryy suddenly began to look concentrated, rubbing his chin with his hand.
"Its…its filled with food. Piles of food. Delicious food, fatty food, healthy food, greasy food, dry food!" Allen suddenly noticed his stomach growling.
"Yes? Yes?"
"Oh wait. Sorry, love. That was just me being hungry." Allen stammered for a minute, before Jeryy again, began to contemplate.
"I think you should go back."
"Oh, Hell no! I'll never go back! My master's cruel, my friends are all gone, my life sucks! I'm moving to Nebraska."
"Really, you should! Your…uh. Your Master is sick!"
"Master doesn't get sick. And if he was, I wouldn't care. Do you know what he made me do the other day?!"
"Er, no."
"I don't even want to talk about it."
"Okay, fine kid. Here's 10 dollars. Go home."
"No."
"15?"
Allen shrugged and crossed his arms.
"20. Final offer." Allen snatched the money and promptly turned on his heels.
"That's a boy!"
"Whatever, thanks for the exposition!" Allen grumbled.
Allen blinked.
His head hurt.
His arms hurt.
His legs hurt.
Wait? Was that blood?
He sat up promptly, dislodging Timcampy from his head, tossing the disgruntled golem into a slew of corn.
"I'm in…a corn field?" He looked around again, blue sky, bright sun, yellow corn, something squishy under him.
"Well, this still looks like Kansas at any rate." Then he felt something soaking through his pants, and jumped blot up. The broken body underneath him, he could only see the feet, looked to have been crushed by the broken side of his ramshackle lean-to. Those feet where however, sporting a lovely pair of bright red bowling shoes, complete with knee high checkered socks. Attractive.
What could he remember?
A tornado…? Or maybe it was just high winds.
The Head Supervisor? On a bike? He noted to stop taking those sleeping pills.
The fact that everything was suddenly in stunning techicolor?
"Holy craptasticals!"
AN: Thanks for reading! Next time?
Rather Large Munchkins, A Pathetic Failure of a Decently Kind-Hearted Witch, and A Scarecrow With Severe Anger Management Issues.