AUTHOR'S NOTE: IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED, DO NOT READ THIS STORY.

This is an OTW story-an off the wall story. Do not take this story seriously. If you do, you'll grow points on your ears and your blood will turn green. Your hands will start talking to you and your intestines will gag. Do not read this story before bed time, you will not sleep. Do not read the story at the table, you will not eat. Do not read this story here or there. Do not read it anywhere. Nuff said.

FANGIRL INTOLLERATIONS

-OR-

DEATH OF PERCEPTOR:

A WHODUNIT FANFIC

And there she found Perceptor lying dead on the floor like a bad joke.

The lamborghini Autobot femme fan character screamed, "Oh, Primus, Primus! This is awful! Some fangirl in love with Perceptor will hate the (Expletive deleted due to obscene content) responsible! Who could have done such a thing? Perceptor, Perceptor! You aren't supposed to die. Who did this?"

That's what this story is somewhat about.

The writer jotted down a few ideas for villains. Usually in Transficiton, it's Autobot verses Decepticon. A fight to the bloody finish with spectacular showdowns. But the two she considered were faves of some other fangirl. So the writer relented and drew up another list, checked it twice and decided Menasore was less than nice.

MENASORE NOT TAKE JOB

Sorry, pal, you don't get a say in this.

Meanwhile back at the Ark, it's pretty much a normal, boring day. Swoop flies the friendly skies. Huffer and Ironhide stretch their strategic muscles over a game of checkers. And the Lambro Brothers are in trouble.

Optimus, stoic as ever, decides a fitting discipline for them: "you will be a part of this story."

The two Autobots stared in shock and despair. This story was being written by T.L. Arens, who is notorious for torturing her characters before she sends them through hell.

Perceptor was indeed dead-NOT in stasis. Transfans all know there is a difference between stasis and death.

Perceptor: Technically, the consideration of absolute termination is somewhat far-fetched to the mind of a Transformer. You can dismember any of our extremities, including the cranial chamber and underlying CPU and we'd still-

DO YOU MIND? You're supposed to be dead.

Perceptor: oh, certainly. My apologies.

Autobot fan character femme, Wolfie, stood staring over Perceptor's cold grey husk. Since she is Ratchet's interm and happily married to him, she too can diagnose the situation to the Autobot leader:

"He's dead, Prime."

"Cause of death?"

"Murder."

And there we have it. The Autobots launch into a serious investigation. After all, nobody died in the G1 cartoon series.

At least, not really.

The usual suspects were rounded up:

Megatron: "I would have murdered Perceptor, but I was on a date.

Ultra Magnus: "Uhhh . . . "

Starscream: *too busy picking his nose*

Bumblebee: "I couldn't've dunnit. I was being written in DSR chapter 7."

Right you are, Bumblebee!

-ME, GRIMLOCK WOULDA DUNNIT IF ME, GRIMLOCK KNEW WHAT WAS DONE.

Forget it, you oversized galoot. This is for people with BRAINS.

Meanwhile, Ratchet and his sweety, Wolfie, try to diagnose the circumstances.

Ratchet: "I have deduced that Perceptor was murdered."

Wolfie leaned against the Autobot CMO. "You are so brilliant."

"Why thank you, my love. Even *if* you're a fancharacter, I love you."

-INSERT KISSING SCENE-

Megatron and Starscream: "EEEEWWEE!!!

Megatron shuddered. "That's disgusting!"

Starscream scoffed, "what do you mean 'that's disgusting'? You don't have a problem kissing me!"

"YOU FOOL, STARSCREAM! This is a comedy, NOT a slash fic!"

Starscream blushed. "I-I forgot . . . we're not in this story."

Sunstreaker pointed a finger at Starscream. "Damn straight, Screamer!"

Sideswipe stood stiffly straight. "We need to launch a more detailed investigation."

"Right," Sunny agreed, "We'll get PROWL to do it."

HI. THIS IS PROWL'S ANSWERING SERVICE. YEAH. I'M ON ASSIGNMENT IN TAHITI WITH THREE SWEET, LOVING AND SEXY FANGIRLS. I'LL BE BACK IN SIX MONTHS.

BEEEEP!!!

Bumblebee laughed. "BUSTED!"

Sunstreaker leapt to the suspect's line, "why you little creep! I'll clean your clock!"

Ratchet intervened, heroically standing between the Lambro Boy and the helpless, hapless Bumblebee. "Later! For now, we MUST find out who killed Perceptor!"

And out into the world the four took their quest.

"Hey! What about me?"

Who are you?

"I'm Wofie's and Ratchet's son!"

Don't be silly. Transformers can't have babies.

Wolfie gasped, horrified and traumatized. "Then what the PITT have I been carrying inside me for several months?"

Might have been a tumor.

Heart-broken, Wolfie turned to Ratchet and wept bitterly. The narrator's cruel words were too much for her delicate emotional balance to handle. Ratchet held his love tenderly, soothing her trembling body and whispering loving words.

Bit by bit Wolfie calmed and the world returned to normal.

Now five Autobots band their courage, their lives and their allowances together to investigate Perceptor's unfortunate but timely death.

Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Wolfie, Ratchet and their son zipped down the highway in hopes of finding clues.

"I'll bet the butler did it," Sunstreaker declared.

"Uh, there is no butler in this story, Streaker," Sideswipe corrected.

"Well then . . . Bumblebee."

"No. We've been through that page."

"Roller?"

Wolfie's Lamborghini's scanners (since she's Sunny's and Swipe's adopted sister) caught sight of a sweet helpless fluffy bunny crossing the highway. It stood on its little hind feet and stared at her with large innocent eyes. The thought of bashed bunny burdened her conscious. "Stop!" she cried.

And Sideswipe drifted gracefully on a dime.

Sunstreaker tried the same but contacted the cliff side. He bent his fender. And his hood, his front-end alignment, his sweet-chromed hub caps. And into oblivion went his striking, metallic, yellow paint job.

And all went dead silent.

Sunstreaker transformed.

Sunstreaker whimpered.

Sunstreaker screamed.

No other being across the cosmos experienced such agony as the narcissistic Autobot Lamborghini. The pain of knowing that he was now less than beautiful, less than socially acceptable, less than perfect, would take sixteen volumes of books to write.

But this narrator doesn't give a shit.

Ratchet transformed and pointed at the narrator, "You heartless fiend!"

Sideswipe, who tried to comfort his bawling, braying, bemoaning brother, gave the narrator an evil look, not because he was angry about the obnoxious four-letter word (which you will see from time to time), but that the narrator employed a run-on sentence used to describe the terse situation-

"KNOCK IT OFF!!"

Sorry. Just doing my job.

Suddenly, Wolfie had an idea: "What if it was WHEELJACK who committed homicide on Perceptor?"

Ratchet flinched. "But Wheeljack is my best friend. We've been through dozens of episodes together. How could he have committed such a horrible crime-and against another Autobot?"

"Jealousy?" Sides suggested. "Maybe you've been too friendly with Perceptor, . . . too . . . cozy."

Ratchet looked cross. "No, I haven't!"

"Maybe not here. Maybe not in the TV series. But *maybe* in someone else's fanfic."

Wolfie jumped between the two mechs, offended and hurt. "How DARE you speak of such things! Ratchet is mine . . . ALL MINE."

Okay. All readers under the age of ten should quit reading this story RIGHT NOW!!

"Hey!" Wolfie protested. "What IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

My problem? IT'S ANOTHER KISSING SCENE! I mean COME ON! This is TRANSFORMERS! NOT some slimy Harlequin romance novel!

Sideswipe snapped his arm out, animae-style and pointed his finger at the offensive narrator. "Watch it, Pal! *I* read those books!" All optics turned to Swipes who meekly shrugged. "Well, uh, it's a good study on Human mating rituals-"

EXCUSE ME! THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A STORY!

Everyone cast their optics to the ground. Guilt and shame rounded their shoulder struts.

Alright. Now that I have your attention, let's get back to the problem at hand. Ahem . . . let's go back to where the story left off back at the Ark.

"Hey!" Wolfie protested.

Now what?

"You just wasted a page and a half of story-time!

The narrator stared at Wolfie with little to no pity. I wasn't the one who left the crime scene. Anyway, realizing they had taken a wrong turn in the investigation, the five rolled up their flaps, hit reverse and tried again.

"Optimus Prime!" Bumblebee shouted through the corridor, "Optimus Prime! They're back! They're back!"

Prime shifted a hand of Uno cards and placed a red reverse card on the deck. "Your turn, Starscream."

"Optimus!"

"For Primus' sake, Bumblebee, can't you see I'm in the middle of something-and on my day off?"

"But Ratchet and the guys are back."

Starscream laid a red 'draw 2' for Megatron. "Excellent. Tell them they can all go out and play in a FREEWAY!"

"But-"

"This is crucial, Autobot." Megatron growled, his voice low and deadly. "We're BUSY!"

"Pass me another Monster, would you, Starscream?" Prime asked politely.

As the Decepticon jet did just that, Megatron laid a color changing card on the deck. "Black! And Prime, you must draw four."

Starscream twisted his face, "But there ARE no black cards, Megatron!"

Prime and Megatron rolled their optics.

Bumblebee pouted. "Awe, nobody ever listens to me!"

Megatron turned, "what's that you say?"

Pouting even worse, Bumblebee left the room, muttering to himself how nobody sees or pays attention to him because he's so small and pretty much usele-

BOOOM (splat)

Sludge did not see him. Honest to gosh. Bumblebee, smushed and compacted like a soda can, waddled slowly to Medbay.

Wolfie's son was first to get back. He returned to the scene of the crime where Perceptor's dead, grey carcass lay wasting away in a pool of his own rotting fluids. The room stank, but undeterred, Wolfie's son squatted before the stiff and stared in morbid fascination. When the grown-up Autobots arrived he grilled them for real answers. "Now whaddo we do?"

Sunstreaker, having now recovered from his emotional and physical distress, snapped on a pair of latex gloves. "We're gonna have to C.S.I. the scene."

(narrator faints)

"Hey!" Ratchet grinned. "VERY nice, Streaker! Lemme try it!" Ratchet snapped on his own latex gloves: "Guess we'll have to C.S.I. the scene."

(narrator twitches like a dying bug)

"Hee, hee . . . *gotta* remember THAT one!"

All five Autobots explore and examine the room wall to wall and floor to ceiling. Ratchet and Wolfie met half way then nose to nose. Then-

EEEEEWWWWE!!! KISSSING!!!

Wolfie broke the deep, loving kiss she shared with her beloved Ratchet. "Will you just slagging GROW UP?"

Sorry. I'm a Toys 'R Us kid. Growing up is against personal current policy.

"Hey!" Wolfie's rugrat called from the doorway. "I found microscopic scratches here at the threshold!"

Streaker joined him and used his magnification vision to examine to discovery. "Uhh . . . yeah. Yeah and I seemed to have found something else, here." using his hand Cyber-tweezers, Sunstreaker picked up something that should be no larger than a speck of dust. "It looks like a wing from a fly."

Sideswipe and Wolfie exchanged looks but it was Sides who made the deduction. "I'll bet Perceptor was murdered elsewhere then DRAGGED in here to make it look like he just dropped dead!"

Wolfie glanced from Swipes to Ratchet to the stiff. "Then what killed him and where?"

Sunstreaker stood, still holding the wing between the tweezers. "The fly wing points to the great outdoors, I suggest we start there."

And once again our fearless five forward their feet to the great outside. And what a magnificent day to do investigative research! Fresh mountain air and a crisp breeze. And there goes Swoop, gliding gracefully in the sky, ever watchful over the Autobot base. Ah, yes! Breathe it all in!

Sunstreaker turned to Sideswipe. "Whatever it was that landed us in this story, I swear I will NEVER do it again!"

"COWER IN TERROR, AUTOBOTS!" And a fearsome roar rolled over the mountains. The horrific sounds of jet engines shook the trees and made the Autobots cover their audio receptors.

A black and blue jet transformed in mid air and landed before the band of investigators. Beside him, a black and purple Decepticon jet phased in.

Skywarp: Peek-a-boo! We see you!

With a cry of sheer joy, Wolfie left the group and gave tackle hugs to Skywarp and Thundercracker.

Sunstreaker's and Sideswipe's optics popped out. Ratchet's jaw hit the ground. His son rolled his optics.

Son: MOM! You said you wouldn't go two-timing dad again! Especially after Prime-

Wolfie kissed each jet on the cheek. She composed herself and turned to face her cohorts. "These are my best friends: Skywarp and Thundercracker!"

Sunstreaker set his hand on hip plates. "Oh yeah? What does that make the rest of us? Electronic GOAT CHEEZE??"

"Pfft! They're JUST Decepticons! There's NOTHING to be jealous about!"

Sunstreaker steamed. "That's not the POINT, you tin-plated BIMBO! THEY'RE THE ENEMY!"

"Hey!" Ratchet interjected, "Don't call her that! She's my wife! Alright, bitch, what's the big idea?"

Wolfie shrugged. "Skywarp tells good jokes and plays a great game of hide-and-seek. Thundercracker likes to play house, makes great coffee and funny noises. They know how to show a girl a good time. What's wrong with that?"

With a cry wrought in frustration, Sunstreaker transformed into automode and rammed his way to Skywarp who conveniently teleported elsewhere.

Skywarp: Nya, nya! Missed me, Sunny-B!

Streaker revved engines and screeched down the path. But he missed Skywarp yet again. The jet taunted him, called him a few more colorful names and led the short tempered Autobot on a goosebot chase.

Wolfie: Stop! Stop fighting, both of you! I love you two and I don't want you to . . ."

And she started crying.

Well, because time is short and so is this story, I will intervene and narrate everything that happens.

Actually, I'll outline it:

A. Skywarp and Sunstreaker get into a vicious combat situation.

B. It's really tense.

C. I wish you could see it.

D. Wolfie pleads for their lives.

E. Thundercracker tells her Skywarp is only playing with Streaker and that he actually won't get hurt. After all, NOBODY is real and this is only fiction.

F. Wolfie cries even more because now she understands that she is a figment of some fangirl's dream. She now understand that her life and marriage are just a mirage.

G. It's very sad.

H. However, upon realizing that nothing is real, she dries her tears and watches as Skywarp turns Sunstreaker into Autobot peanut butter.

Sideswipe: Hey, I thought we still have an investigation to complete!

Right you are, Sideswipe!

But now that Sunstreaker has discovered a new hobby, Thundercracker has to take his place.

So the Decepticon jet agrees to help (though he hasn't been brought up to date, we'll pretend that he knows).

"FOUND IT!" he declared about eleven minutes and fourteen seconds after the previous sentence.

The Autobot team rushed to the scene and what they find is-

Sideswipe: THIS IS STUPID!! DOLLS?! A TEA PARTY?! Okay, I've had enough! Lemme out of this story!

Sorry. You're the one who got into trouble and Optimus Prime assigned you here. And the writer has you pegged for more bad dialog.

Sideswipe: WHAT?!

Wolfie (yet again) started crying. "I thought this would be a GOOD story! I wanted to be a great, strong character because I didn't want Optimus Prime to think I was some wimpy little thing! But all we've gotten was bad sentence structure and some WRITER BIMBO making fun of us!"

There are support groups available for such problems.

Thundercracker shrugged. He did not see what the big deal was. He sat at the little girl's table and helped himself to two cookies. He picked one up and nibbled.

Ratchet: DON'T EAT THAT! It's obviously poisonous!

Wolfie gasped and the four Autobot stared in suspense, expecting Thundercracker to keel over dead.

That's not what happened.

Instead, Rumble peeked out of the tea kettle, shot Thundercracker in the face then disappeared.

Thundercracker toppled backwards and lay dead.

Stunned, the Autobots continued to stare.

Wolfie: So . . . THAT'S what happened!

Wolfie picked up the tea kettle and out popped Rumble. But she caught him round the neck and took away his little gun. The tea kettle fell to the ground and shattered.

Rumble squirmed. "You tin-plated BIMBO! You broke my inter-dimensional tea kettle! I'll get you for this!"

Wolfie held the punk aloft for the mechs to see. "He lured Perceptor here and murdered him and I'll bet Swoop saw it and took Perceptor home, but forgot to tell anybody that the Autobot scientist was dead!"

Rumble would not be still. "UNHAND ME, you unsanctimonious, sacrilegious SLUT! I'm tellin' Soundwave on you! I'll tell him you beat me up REAL good and did stuff to me the writer here won't lemme talk about!"

Ratchet grinned. "Ooh, I'd LOVE to read *that*!"

And so our story ends because two and a half characters are dead and Rumble did it . . . well, not the 'half' portion; that was Skywarp's job. The Autobots destroyed the tea party trap and Sunstreaker ended up in a body cast for six months.

Thundercracker was buried then resuscitated for another fanfic. Wolfie and her son live with Ratchet in the Ark happily ever after.

And Starscream won the Uno game.

The End.