(We fade in to see a studio audience apparently made up of people lured in off of a New York City back alley at midnight by the offer of free food. They munch on French fries and cheer half-heartedly as a Transmetal spider descends from the ceiling on a webline. The spider drops to the ground.)

ANNOUNCER: *dramatic* Welcome to…The Tarantulas Show!

(The crowd goes nuts as an ‘Applause’ sign blinks on.)

ANNOUNCER: And now, the one and only—or so we’re hoping—host of The Tarantulas Show! Preeeeeesenting…TARANTULAS!

(A food fight breaks out in the crowd as the spider transforms, revealing Transmetal Tarantulas in a funky suit coat that somehow doesn’t tangle up his spider legs and clashes horribly with his color scheme.)

ANNOUNCER: Ew! Why lime green, Tarry?

TARANTULAS: *annoyed* It was on sale.

ANNOUNCER: And worth every penny, I see.

(Our esteemed host gives the Announcer an evil look promising pain and suffering later. The Announcer grins back, secure in the knowledge that he’s out of view of the camera and Tarantulas can’t do a thing until the show’s over. Stage hands have broken up the food fight, but only after being made several interesting offers by the “ladies of the night” in the crowd. By that time, the crowd once again has noticed that the ‘Applause’ sign is blinking. Chaos ensues.)

TARANTULAS: *glares at the Announcer* I hate you. *bows to the crowd* TeHEHehehehe! Thank you! Thank you! This is the premier of the show, and today we’re talking with those Maximals and Predacons who Would Be King. Our sponsor for today’s show is…*pulls out a card and reads off it* “Hasbro! Remember, you wouldn’t exist if not for us!”

(He blinks. The crowd blinks back. The Announcer chortles merrily in the silence.)

TARANTULAS: …right. *throws the card off stage* Anyway! On to our guests!

(The spider walks over to a large mahogany desk on stage right while the crowd goes bananas. Literally. They’re now all eating complementary bananas that stagehands handed out.)

TARANTULAS: Let’s meet our first vict--*coughs nervously* Tehehe, excuse me, I meant “guest.” He’s cruel, he’s tyrannical, and he has a thing for rubber duckies…don’t shoot unless you’ve got an escape route—it’s Megatron!

(TM Megatron walks on stage left and smiles at the crowd. Someone throws a banana peel at him. Still smiling, he calmly charges up his tail-gun and obliterates the fool before walking over to sit in a chair by Tarantulas’ desk. The crowd whimpers in fear, although a few brave ladies call out their numbers hopefully.)

MEGATRON: *frowns* I’d say I was happy to be here, you treacherous spider, but I’d be lying, yess.

TARANTULAS: *under his breath* Like that’s ever stopped you before?

MEGATRON: *suspiciously* What was that?

TARANTULAS: HEHhehehehEh, oh, nothing. *smirks at the camera* Tell our viewers, Megs, how in Primus’ name did you ever come up with the idea that you could possibly rule Cybertron?

MEGATRON: *thoughtfully* Well, it’s not so much Cybertron as the entire galaxy...

TARANTULAS: *turns a page on the magazine he’s reading* Whatever.

MEGATRON: *glares at Tarantulas*

TARANTULAS: *throws the magazine—is that Playbot?!—to the side for the stage hands to fight over* Be realistic, Megs! Do you honestly think that someone as incompetent as you could even manage to rule a small country?

MEGATRON: *deadpan* No.

CROWD: *gasps*

TARANTULAS: *stunned*…what?

MEGATRON: Not with such a pathetic group of followers, at least.

CROWD: Oooooo…

TARANTULAS: …I’ll ignore that for now. *glares at the Announcer, who’s chortling again* Back to the subject—how did you ever come up with such a crazy idea?!

MEGATRON: *seriously* I believe that the ancient Decepticon leader, my namesake Megatron, yess, left a message indicating that I was to further the Decepticon cause on Earth.

CROWD: Awwwww…how touching!

TARANTULAS: *looks at the audience oddly* One way he tried to do that was to kill off the human race, you realize.

CROWD: Eep!

TARANTULAS: TehEHEhehehe. *turns back to Megatron* Megs, basically what you’re saying is that if I got a letter from, say, Skywarp or one of the ancient Decepticons that said his cause would be bettered if I killed all the sheep on Earth or something, I could use that as an excuse to conquer the galaxy?

MEGATRON: *stares at Tarantulas for a long moment, wondering what the slag sheep had to do with anything*…uh, yes?

TARANTULAS: *Mr. Burn’s voice* Excellent, heheEHehe. *normal voice* So, the Beast Wars aren’t just an excuse to get your hands all over Optimus Primal?

MEGATRON: Well, I suppose—WHAT?!?!?

(Tarantulas chuckles, the crowd giggles and stuffs their faces with food, and Megatron sputters indignantly.)

TARANTULAS: *edges his chair a little further away from Megatron in case the tyrant explodes* Speaking of excuses, it’s time to introduce our next guest. He’s red, he’s cowardly, and by the Matrix is his beast mode ugly—Terrorsaur, come on down!

(The ‘Applause’ sign flashes, and the crowd cheers fanatically, hoping to get more free food. Terrorsaur flies on stage in his beast mode and is narrowly missed by a purple laser from our beloved tyrant-guest. The pterodactyl squawks in panic and veers into the back wall of the studio…which falls over, revealing that the REAL backdrop of the studio is made of cement and covered with creative graffiti.)

ANNOUNCER: Slag it! Get a censor crew on that thing!

TARANTULAS: Too late. *points at the camera, which is pointed straight at the back wall and what’s scrawled all over it*

ANNOUNCER: $*%*#$ live show!!

TARANTULAS: *glares at Megatron* No shooting at the other guests! My budget’s too tight to afford anything but cheap props, and I can’t replace them if you destroy them!

MEGATRON: *sarcastically gestures at the spider’s mahogany desk* Cheap props? Riiiiiiight…

TARANTULAS: It’s amazing what can be done with Styrofoam these days.

MEGATRON: *points at the studio audience, which is tearing apart mounds of food being shoveled at them by stage hands* And the free food?

TARANTULAS: *uneasily* Well…don’t tell anyone…especially, tehehEHeh, the Health Department…but…

(Tarantulas leans over and whispers something in Megatron’s audio. The tyrant’s optics widen, and he looks faintly sick. The audience stops gobbling the free food long enough to wonder why the stage hands are now passing out complementary stomach pumps, but then they go back to gorging. Hey, it’s New York City, and these are people lured off the street at midnight. It can’t possibly be any worse than McDonalds, right?)

(Meanwhile, Terrorsaur pries himself out of the fake back wall and staggers over to collapse in a chair next to Megatron.)

TARANTULAS: *bored* Took you long enough. So, Squawk-Box, why DO you always try to take over the Predacons?

TERRORSAUR: *suspicious* Why should I tell you?

TARANTULAS: Because the audience wants to know, you twit! *points to the audience, which is now practicing its synchronized puking routine as directed by stage hands* Look at them! *under his breath* Yeah, that was my reaction to him, too…

TERRORSAUR: *blinks at the audience* Uh…right.

TARANTULAS: Just tell us.

TERRORSAUR: *shrugs* Because Megatron is an idiot!

(Said idiot backhands Terrorsaur into Tarantulas’ desk, revealing that, yes, it is in fact Styrofoam. The crowd cheers. Terrorsaur drags himself back into his chair, sitting on the corner farthest from the enraged Megatron. Tarantulas looks at his ruined desk for a moment, glares at Megatron, and kicks it to the side in the hopes of catching the Announcer by surprise. The Announcer dodges behind the camera men and makes a razzing noise.)

TARANTULAS: *growls* I’ll forgive that on the grounds that Terrorsaur WAS being exceedingly stupid. TehEHeheh, is that why you’ve failed so spectacularly in all your attempted takeovers?

TERRORSAUR: I’m not stupid!

MEGATRON: *clears his throat and studies his tail-gun pointedly*

TERRORSAUR: *gulps*…yes.

TARANTULAS: Hey, how are you alive, anyway? If Megatron and I are both Transmetal, shouldn’t you have died a horribly slow, agonizing death by melting into a puddle of screaming metal in the lava? *sneers at the audience, where members with weaker stomachs have begun puking again* Oh, please. I wasn’t nearly as graphic as I could have been!

TERRORSAUR: ………eeeeeeek………

MEGATRON: I thought YOU knew why!

TARANTULAS: Uh…teEHEhehe, I do! It’s, um, that is, this studio is placed on a space/time rift where all realities collide—

MEGATRON: You don’t have a clue, do you, nooo.

TARANTULAS: --not the faintest. On the other hand, that would explain why the Jerry Springer Show is recorded here. Easy access to guests that don’t belong in the real world.

CROWD: *chanting* Je-RRY! Je-RRY! Je-RRY!

TARANTULAS: *to Megatron and Terrorsaur* Excuse me. *stands up and hefts his pizza-cutter weapon* Large GUN! Large GUN! Large GUN!

CROWD: *gulp* Tarantu-LAS! Tarantu-LAS! Tarantu-LAS!

(A voice snarls something about Tarantulas’ method of crowd control being “dishonorable.” Tarantulas sighs as Megatron and Terrorsaur immediately stand and aim their weapons in the direction of the voice.)

TARANTULAS: What have I said about shooting the other guests? *waits until Megatron and Terrorsaur reluctantly sit back down* Well, I really don’t want to, but it’s time for me to introduce our next guest. He’s a Predacon, he’s a Maximal, no, wait, he’s a Predac—just kidding! He’s a Maximal again! Dinobot, get your tail out here!

(The crowd goes crazy as the Predacon-turned-Maximal stalks out on stage in his beast mode. This insanely-positive reaction is easily explained by the fact that the stage hands have run out of free food and are now passing out free liquor. Dinobot gives them all a rather strange look before walking over to stand on the other side of where Tarantulas’ desk would have been if Megatron hadn’t destroyed it.)

DINOBOT: *annoyed* Why don’t I get a chair?

TARANTULAS: You’re in your beast mode. How the slag would you sit down?

DINOBOT: *sulks* It’s the thought that counts.

MEGATRON: If only that were true…*grins nastily as he and Terrorsaur make identical throat-wringing motions* If this thought could count, traitor!

TARANTULAS: *eyes the two other Predacons warily*…hehEHeh, right. I’m going to pretend you two don’t exist for the rest of the show, okay? *turns back to Dinobot* So…tell our viewers—

ANNOUNCER: *mutters just loud enough to be heard* We have viewers?

TARANTULAS: --have I mentioned how much I hate you? Anyway, Dinobot, is it true that you’ve tried to take over both Predacon AND Maximal factions?

DINOBOT: Yes.

TARANTULAS: Why?

DINOBOT: It was the honorable thing to do.

TARANTULAS: Why?

DINOBOT: Because Megatron is a fool and Optimus is weak.

TARANTULAS: Why?

DINOBOT: Well, Optimus is a Maximal, which needs no further elaboration, but as for Megatron…that started back before the Beast Wars when he lost his rubber ducky--

(Tarantulas is suddenly shoved aside as Megatron lunges at Dinobot. The crowd drunkenly cheers on the fight until raptor and Predacon roll off of the stage and crush several members of the studio audience, at which point the crowd joins in. A general free-for-all starts, with the stage-hands refereeing.)

TERRORSAUR: *leans back in his seat and looks at Tarantulas* Rather like Jerry Springer, isn’t it?

TARANTULAS: You have no idea. *shakes a fist as more of the studio props are destroyed* HEY! I paid good money for those!

ANNOUNCER: *smashes a chair over Megatron’s head* No you didn’t! You stole them!

TARANTULAS: TeheEHehe, oh, yeah. Now I remember.

TERRORSAUR: Did you just lie on national television?

TARANTULAS: Probably. Why? Do I get a prize?

TERRORSAUR: Or a lawsuit.

TARANTULAS: Interesting. Anyway, I’m going to ignore the fight for the moment--*dodges a liquor bottle that was thrown at his head*--in favor of introducing our last guest who Would Be King. He’s big, he’s green, and he’s pure evil when he’s reprogrammed; Rhinox, welcome to the show!

(The stage-hands abandon their referee duties since they’re not doing anything but getting in the way to clear a path for Rhinox to enter on stage left and walk over to stage right, where Terrorsaur and Tarantulas are laying bets on whether Megatron can really cram Dinobot’s head through the camera lens. An ‘Applause’ sign blinks on, and to the astonishment of all, the studio audience stops beating on each other long enough to applaud politely. Rhinox smiles and waves uncertainly, which is apparently the cue they needed to resume where they left off in the fight as the rhino-bot sits down next to Terrorsaur.)

RHINOX: *watches the fight with concern* Should they be doing that?

TARANTULAS: Let me put it this way…do YOU want to stop them?

RHINOX: Uh…no. Not really.

TARANTULAS: Well, there you go. TehehEHEhehe, so, Rhinox, what was it like to be the only Predacon who had a chance at taking over?

RHINOX: *shrugs* It was great.

(Tarantulas and Terrorsaur stare at the Maximal speechlessly. Even Megatron and Dinobot pause in their fight to gape at him.)

TARANTULAS: *shakes his head* That…was NOT what I was expecting.

RHINOX: *grins smugly as his optics turn red* Why aren’t you one of the guests, Tarantulas?

TARANTULAS: *eyes him nervously* Um…well, I, teEHEhe, didn’t really want to TAKE OVER a faction. I just wanted to destroy everyone.

(Megatron, Terrorsaur, and Tarantulas gulp in unison as Rhinox’s color scheme suddenly takes a turn for the darker side, and Dinobot backs away. The rhino-bot smiles at them all innocently.)

TARANTULAS: *edges his chair away* WELL! That’s all the time we have for today, folks! Tune in next time as I talk to the Beast Warriors who are Loyal To A Fault!

(The three Predacons scream and run for it as Rhinox’s Chain Guns O’ Doom appear in his hands…pointed at them. Dinobot has already disappeared. The crowd cheers on Rhinox as he pursues the other ‘bots.)

ANNOUNCER: That is, tune in next time if there IS a next time…*laughs evilly* Go Rhinox!

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