raisedbymoogles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raisedbymoogles) wrote2019-01-16 10:00 pm
raisedbymoogles) wrote2019-01-16 10:00 pm
Entry tags:
The only good thing I ever did on Tumblr, apparently.
Now and then this ficbit will keep popping up, so I'm preserving it here for the coming post-Tumblr society. Context is a picture of a fighter jet at a gas station.
*
“You’ve reached the Ark, Prowl speaking.”
“Uhhh, yeah, hi, listen, there’s a jet parked at one of my pumps and I dunno if he’s one’a yours or one’a the other guys, but he won’t go away and he seems kinda…”
Prowl cross-referenced the colloquial usages for ‘kinda’ and found nothing useful. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t quite understand.”
The human on the other end of the line hummed, a noise that communicated little besides ‘bear with me, I’m searching my onboard lexicographal dictionary.’ It took longer than Prowl would have liked; that coupled with a cursory vocal cue analysis suggested the human himself was ‘kinda’ sleep-deprived. Small wonder, as it was on the wrong side of midnight when most humans were genetically programmed to enter their period of dormancy. Prowl waited patiently until the humming stopped and the human started speaking again.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was kinda - drunk. Y’all can’t get drunk, can you?”
…oh, Primus. “No, but there is a similar state of impaired functioning that occurs when one of our species imbibes surplus amounts of concentrated energon,” Prowl admitted with a grimace he was grateful no one could see, alone in the comms room as he was. “What is the subject doing now?”
“…talkin’ to himself, mostly. Loudly.”
“Is there any way to let me listen?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Hang on.”
A brief grating sound - a window opening, Prowl thought - and then the faint burble he’d been ignoring since picking up the call resolved itself into an unfortunately familiar voice.
“-c’n wait here aaaaaalllll night! I demand full surface - surf - service! Imma TRUCK, an’ I gotta full load of energon cubes t’shlrup - schlep - SHIP dammit t’ Darkmount! Stickit in your cannon, Mergletron. Imma truck.”
Oh, sweet fancy Primus on a silicon cracker.
“Listen carefully,” Prowl instructed the human. “The subject has been identified at 80% accuracy as the Decepticon Starscream. Do not approach. Stay inside and I will send a squad to take him into custody.”
“Uhh, sure. Couldja hurry? He’s blocking two pumps.”
“The Autobots will be there with all due speed,” Prowl promised. “Hold, please.” He switched lines to rouse the nighttime response crew and after a moment’s calculation, roused Jazz from a sound slumber to accompany them.
He’d complain now, but he’d thank Prowl later.
*
“You’ve reached the Ark, Prowl speaking.”
“Uhhh, yeah, hi, listen, there’s a jet parked at one of my pumps and I dunno if he’s one’a yours or one’a the other guys, but he won’t go away and he seems kinda…”
Prowl cross-referenced the colloquial usages for ‘kinda’ and found nothing useful. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t quite understand.”
The human on the other end of the line hummed, a noise that communicated little besides ‘bear with me, I’m searching my onboard lexicographal dictionary.’ It took longer than Prowl would have liked; that coupled with a cursory vocal cue analysis suggested the human himself was ‘kinda’ sleep-deprived. Small wonder, as it was on the wrong side of midnight when most humans were genetically programmed to enter their period of dormancy. Prowl waited patiently until the humming stopped and the human started speaking again.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was kinda - drunk. Y’all can’t get drunk, can you?”
…oh, Primus. “No, but there is a similar state of impaired functioning that occurs when one of our species imbibes surplus amounts of concentrated energon,” Prowl admitted with a grimace he was grateful no one could see, alone in the comms room as he was. “What is the subject doing now?”
“…talkin’ to himself, mostly. Loudly.”
“Is there any way to let me listen?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Hang on.”
A brief grating sound - a window opening, Prowl thought - and then the faint burble he’d been ignoring since picking up the call resolved itself into an unfortunately familiar voice.
“-c’n wait here aaaaaalllll night! I demand full surface - surf - service! Imma TRUCK, an’ I gotta full load of energon cubes t’shlrup - schlep - SHIP dammit t’ Darkmount! Stickit in your cannon, Mergletron. Imma truck.”
Oh, sweet fancy Primus on a silicon cracker.
“Listen carefully,” Prowl instructed the human. “The subject has been identified at 80% accuracy as the Decepticon Starscream. Do not approach. Stay inside and I will send a squad to take him into custody.”
“Uhh, sure. Couldja hurry? He’s blocking two pumps.”
“The Autobots will be there with all due speed,” Prowl promised. “Hold, please.” He switched lines to rouse the nighttime response crew and after a moment’s calculation, roused Jazz from a sound slumber to accompany them.
He’d complain now, but he’d thank Prowl later.