Mission 233: Something Fat This Way Comes

From Accct Wiki

Roy’s expression cringed into one of disgust as he continually wrapped gauze around his swollen, severely wounded left hand, allowing his fingers airspace from beneath the bandages. He sighed as the roll of gauze came to its end, and then made an awkward gesture towards Link. The elf hesitated before he lifted a roll of duct tape from the nearby counter drawer, tore a petite piece from the end of the roll, and offered the portion to his colleague. Roy accepted the piece of duct tape and then taped the end of the gauze onto the remainder that was wrapped successively over his injured hand. He suspended his left hand in the air before his face as if to thoroughly examine, and then pouted, “That ought to hold it.”

Link restored the duct tape roll to its designated place within the drawer, closed it, and then turned to face his colleague. He paused for a moment to consider his predetermined question, then finally asked, “How about the new suit I got for you, Roy?”

Roy hurriedly glanced downward at his torso and then lowered his hand to his side as he turned his head to eye Link in frustration. “Well, it’s too big, it fits like it’s been pressed by a homophobic monkey, and the color reminds me of a panther chewing on a piece of moldy bacon.”

Link raised his eyebrows and whimpered, “You didn’t have to go into all that detail.”

“Details are what make life fun,” Roy explained, his scowl abruptly switching to a faint smile. “Details… and hostages.”

Link’s eyes grew wide as he directed a perplexed expression towards Roy. The red-haired executive choked out a nervous laugh, and then corrected himself, “I mean, hookers.”

“That’s worse,” Link disgustedly replied, wincing.

“Well, we can’t all be philosopher-jackasses like Marth,” Roy sneered, rolling his eyes. He hesitated before glancing at Link with a puzzled expression plastered upon his face. “Speaking of which, where is the little crybaby?”

At that mention, Link perked up with interest. “You know, I could’ve sworn he said something about-”

“Link,” Roy interrupted, narrowing his eyes, “I don’t care. I was just asking that generic question that you’re supposed to when somebody’s missing, and… yeah. Shut up.”

In confusion, Link immediately closed his gaping mouth and neglected to finish his statement. He raised his eyebrows and then smiled at Roy as he declared, “Well, I guess that Marth couldn’t tolerate you anymore and quit again.”

“What do you mean by that?” Roy inquired, scowling as he eyed his colleague in apprehension.

Link shifted his focus to the panels on the ceiling. “You didn’t stop screaming for four hours,” he began as he lowered his head to return Roy’s stare. “Maybe Marth can’t handle so much searing pain.”

“Intolerant loser,” Roy spat, twitching his nose as he cringed at the thought of Marth. “I was there when he lost his tiara; now why isn’t he here for me?”

“Maybe because you stole his tiara,” Link interjected.

Roy nodded and concluded, “Exactly! See? I was there.” He paused for a moment to shake his head in disappointment, then transferred his attention to Link once more. “What an ungrateful-”

Roy’s proclamation was interrupted as the door swung open cautiously and Marth stood silently in the doorway, returning each of the bewildered stares he received from his colleagues.

“Poster child! …I mean, Marth!” Roy blundered, perking up his eyebrows to accompany the awkward smirk that was developing across his lips. “Where did you go, my good-old-buddy-old-pal?”

Marth nervously stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself. He swiftly glanced at Link, and then began to stare at Roy. “I went to go get you another roll of gauze in case you needed it,” – he hesitated for a moment to glance at Roy’s concealed left hand – “and it seems like you’ll be needing another roll soon, anyway.”

Roy lifted his left hand and limply gestured. Smugly grinning, he replied, “You know, this gauze stuff is kinda’ like a cast.”

“You’re not supposed to put the whole roll onto a wound,” Marth explained, expressing a genuine concern for his colleague as he offered the second roll of gauze to him.

Roy reluctantly accepted the roll of gauze and then tossed it over his shoulder towards his desk. Following a peculiar clanking noise, he grinned half-heartedly and then continued, “Maybe I’ll listen to your advice when pigs start falling from the sky, Marth…”

Marth hesitated as he gazed at his colleague, and his concerned expression began to fade slightly. “Umm… yes, well-”

“Shut up for awhile, Marthy,” Roy interrupted, gesturing with his right hand towards his desk. “The telephone could ring at any minute, and I wouldn’t want your incoherent blathering to block it out.”

Marth’s sympathy was replaced by irritation as he sputtered, “ ‘Marthy?’ ”

Link blinked at he observed Marth’s increasing fury. “Roy?” he began, his voice lighthearted as if to conceal uneasiness. “You may want to reconsider what you’re doi-”

The telephone ring interjected upon Link’s announcement, forcing each of the members of Red, Blue, and That Other Guy Incorporated to immediately shift their attention to it. Marth edged towards the desk, but Roy hurriedly interrupted his colleague and made a daring leap onto his desk, which wobbled beneath the his weight but remained intact. Marth halted in his tracks and stared in confusion at Roy, who, with his eyebrows raised in shock, was glancing towards the floor beneath the desk. “Wow,” Roy started, a slight laugh piercing his voice at the end of the word, “those spiffy three-inch nails really are better.”

Marth shrugged his shoulders, and Link took a few cautious steps away from the counter and towards his colleagues. Roy lifted the telephone and held it up to his ear as he answered, “Hello, you’ve reached Red, Blue, and That Other Guy Incorporated. You’ve got a job, and we need one. How may we help you today?”

“Hello,” came a hoarse voice from the opposite end of the line. “I have a – oh, wait, I know this – mission for you.”

Roy smugly grinned as he dragged his injured left hand to a rest beneath his chest as a form of fragile support. “Well, hello to you, too,” he stated simply. “Did you have one too many last night, Ganondorf?”

“I am not Ganondorf!” the voice replied huskily. “This is Bowser!”

“Bowser?” Roy repeated, his eyes widening in astonishment. “How are you speaking English?”

There was a slight hesitation from the caller. “I am taking classes,” he replied in a croaky tone. “It is real helping.”

“Yes, you talk English very goodly,” Roy responded, smirking to himself devilishly. He suspended his calves above the desk and then overlapped his legs as they dangled in the air. “So, you’ve got a mission for us, then, right?” Roy continued as he removed his injured hand from underneath his chest. “Spill the beans, plumber-breath.”

“I am trying to ease on the plumber-eating,” Bowser replied, an embarrassed notion overlapping his hoarse voice.

Roy’s surprise faded into nonchalance. “Right, I’ll just skip the introduction thing, since I’m getting pretty sick of it, and I’m sure you are, too-” He trailed off to glance at Marth, who was sighing with pleasant relief. Roy grinned demonically, and then stated, “Or, perhaps I will.” He gestured haphazardly towards the nearby counter with his left hand and firmly ordered, “Marth, start the music.”

Marth grimaced at his colleague and shook his head in frustration. Roy narrowed his eyes at the stubborn swordsman and threatened, “Dude, just because I shot myself in the hand doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.”

Marth muttered under his breath and turned to proceed to the counter, where he depressed the Play button on the small stereo and then shot an accusing glance at Roy. After rolling his eyes at Marth’s glare as the music began to play in the background, Roy looked away in an undeterminable direction and continued, “We specialize in all sorts of jobs, from high-tech, futuristic space battles to cleaning dishes. Here at Red, Blue, and That Other Guy Incorporated, we understand that you have a choice in your odd job-performing, pathetic losers, and we appreciate that you have chosen us as your odd job-performing, pathetic losers.” Roy hesitated for a moment to mentally scan his previous statement, and then thought aloud, “You know, I’m starting to think that maybe that wasn’t really the best choice for a gratuitous speech.”

“Perhaps not,” Bowser replied in his abrasive, awkward tone.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Roy retorted, scowling. “Geez, Bowser, you’re so rude for an evil villain that can beat me to a bloody pulp and then gloat about it.”

Bowser paused before he continued, “I have not heard this word ‘gloat.’ What does it mean?”

“Nothing, Bowser,” Roy replied. “Now, can we please just get on with this? Tell me what your big, fat problem is.”

“I – umm… need you guys to help me with a diet,” Bowser gruffly said. “I are tired of always being able to win competition by sitting on people.”

Roy lightly shrugged his shoulders and responded, “Isn’t that fitting? Although, I rather like that ‘Bowser Bomb’ thing; it suits you, and your fatness.”

“That is the problem!” the caller complained hoarsely. “Help me to lose weight, yes?”

Roy rolled his eyes and then lazily replied, “Fine, we’ll just drop everything that got you where you are today and help you lose weight. You’ll probably wind up getting fired, and then you’ll go into depression and eat buckets of ice cream as a consolation, and gain all of it back, but they won’t rehire you because you told them to go screw themselves after they fired you…”

“Okay, then,” Bowser responded. “Meet me in my room? You know where is?”

Roy frowned in indignation. “Do I know where it is,” he repeated mockingly. “Of course I do! I’m going to hang up on you now, Bowser, so… toodles.”

Roy then slammed the telephone into its receiver and slowly rose from his lying position upon the desk. He stood up as straight as possible, dusted himself off with his now available hand, and then shifted glances between his two colleagues. “Well, it looks like the fatlord finally wants to lose some weight,” he declared, nodding his head once.

Marth eyed Roy with suspicion. “From the way you were talking to him, it doesn’t seem like you think that’s such a hot idea.”

“That’s because I’m an idiot,” Roy responded with confidence.

Marth glanced at Link, then returned his focus to Roy, who was staring off into space in silence with a puzzled expression plastered upon his face. “Hey, you’re the one who said it,” Marth explained as he lifted his hands to chest level as a gesture of rejection, “so, this time you can’t yell at me for saying something like that.”

“Marth, Marth, Marth,” Roy uttered, shaking his head in disappointment, “you’re my Source of Blame! How am I supposed to maintain my position of authority without having someone below me to blame everything on?” He paused for a moment to await any response from Marth, and then smirked as he continued, “With that said, now I must declare… Marth, you called me an idiot! Now I must take that out of your paycheck!”

“You really are an idiot,” Marth muttered as he glowered at his accuser.

“Yes, well…” Roy began as he glanced away from Marth and focused on Link. “Now, I suggest that you both get your butts to Bowser’s room, since I don’t really know where it is.”

Link allowed himself a moment to blink as a thought pierced his thoughts: “Roy, do you think Bowser’s trying to trick us with this mission?”

Roy perked up an eyebrow as he smirked at Link. “What makes you say that?” he questioned. “Apparently he wants to lose some weight – how could that be a trick?”

Link stared at the floor and nervously stated as he nudged the carpet with his foot, “You remember that time that you scratched ‘Roy was here’ onto Bowser’s clown car?” Roy shook his head in confusion, and Link continued, “Well, he finally figured out who did it.”

“My God,” Roy muttered as his expression of conceit faded into one of discontent. “It certainly took him long enough, though. What a dumbass.”

“This is what your problem is, Roy,” Marth interrupted, forcing Roy to shift his attention to his accuser. “Nobody wants to hire you, let alone pay you, because you make fun of them, and then make yourself look like an idiot while trying to perform the job requested of you.”

Roy blinked. “Your point being…?”

“Never mind,” Marth replied solemnly, heaving a sigh afterwards.

“Good, because I’m not paying you people to stand around and collect dust,” Roy retorted, gesturing haphazardly towards the door with his injured hand. “Well? Let’s get a move on, my minions.”

Marth muttered incomprehensibly under his breath and then proceeded to the doorway, where he opened the door and took a few steps into the hallway before halting to impatiently wait for his colleagues. Roy shot an accusing glance at Link and proclaimed, “You go first! If somebody should get hurt, it should be you.”

Link did as Roy commanded and walked alongside Marth in the hallway. Roy trailed his colleagues, glancing at his left hand every few moments in frustration. Marth sighed and then mumbled, “Roy, try not to make yourself look like an idiot this time. Or, if you’re going to, then please at least let someone help you with it.”

“Hey, I am perfectly capable of making an idiot of myself without your help, thank you very much!” Roy retorted. “You’re lucky all I can see right now is the back of your head, or else I would be giving you a nasty glare right about now.”

Marth released a slight whimpering noise. “Why did I come back?” he wondered aloud.

“Guilt trip,” Link replied, “because Roy wanted you to be our pos-”

“He doesn’t have to know about that,” Roy declared, raising his eyebrows.

When Link halted his walk, both of his colleagues stopped to stare at him. Link pointed anxiously at the closed door to his right and stated simply, “I think this is Bowser’s room.”

“Excellent,” Roy declared as an exuberant smirk appeared across his face, “then he won’t mind if we just burst in unexpectedly.” With that, he carefully placed his hand upon the doorknob and then hurriedly turned it, allowing the force pressed upon the door to swing it into the wall. “Bowser!” he shouted, extending his arms lazily. “We have arrived for your mission-thingy!”

Bowser instantaneously stared up at the members of Red, Blue, and That Other Guy Incorporated and then maneuvered irregularly towards them. Each of the subsequent steps produced a thunderous boom on the floor. “Thank goodness you are here,” he huffed in his chaotic tone. “I need help.”

Roy’s eyes widened as he eyed his client. “Wow, Bowser, you really let yourself go since I last has the displeasure of fighting you.”

Marth gasped at his colleague’s insolence, and Link smiled. “Roy!” Marth shouted, scowling at the redhead. “How could you say something like that?”

“Aww, Marthy still needs his bottle!” Roy mocked, snickering to himself afterwards. He turned to face Bowser once more and continued, “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, you said that you wanted to lose some of your extra poundage, as I recall!”

“Y-Yes,” Bowser fumbled. “Please help me with diet.”

Link clasped his hands together and whispered, “So polite.”

Roy smugly proceeded towards Bowser and then halted by his client’s side. “You’ve been looking rather pudgy lately,” he said, nodding. “You called us just in time.”

Marth hurriedly ambled towards Roy and halted before him, threatening, “How can say such horrible things to people that you expect to pay you?”

“Because, dude, I run a business,” Roy replied matter-of-factly. “It’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“No, it isn’t!”

Roy grimaced and retorted, “Marth, just go back to your girl scout troop and leave the business to the adults!”

Link proceeded towards Bowser and halted near his colleagues. “Bowser doesn’t look too bad,” he stated, glancing once at Roy before shifting his focus to Bowser.

“He looks horrible!” Roy interjected, scowling as he pointed furiously at the king of the koopas. He swiftly turned to face Bowser and then yelled, “Your diet starts now! So,” – he glanced at Link – “Link, get me a salad.”

Link nodded and grinned as he lifted a complete salad out of his traditional video game hero storage… thing. As the elf handed the plate to Roy, Marth watched in confusion and muttered, “That thing is starting to scare me. Where does all this stuff come from?”

“Nobody knows,” Link answered, “and that’s why it’s so much fun.”

Roy shoved the plate of salad at Bowser with his right hand. “Now, eat the salad!” he ordered sternly.

Bowser nervously accepted the plate and struggled to grasp it with his lengthy clawed hands. “Salad?” he asked. As he stared down at the plate of assorted lettuce and diced tomatoes, he began to scowl. “Salad?” he repeated with austerity. “I cannot eat vegetables alone!”

“Sure you can,” Roy assured him, smirking, “and you’d better figure it out soon, fatty.”

“How is eating supposed to help?” Bowser inquired.

Roy fell silent, and Marth grinned at his overconfident colleague. “Well, I could just have you run sixteen miles,” Roy finally replied, frowning. “Would that be any better?”

Marth shook his head and then muttered, “Somebody, please, just kill him now…”

Bowser opened his mouth to speak, but Roy interjected, “Bowser, you’re making this too difficult for yourself! Eat your frickin’ salad, and then go run sixteen frickin’ miles! Frick!”

Bowser’s facial expression began to reflect his restraint from breathing fire on Roy. Link bit his lip and apprehensively said, “Roy, I don’t think Bowser likes your advice.”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Marth interrupted. “Roy’s been calling Bowser ‘fat’ ever since Bowser called. He lacks compassion or sympathy!”

Roy glared at Marth and replied in irritation, “Maybe because I’m not gay, like you!”

Marth’s jaw fell open. After a moment of silence, he recovered into a grimace and then clenched his hands into furious fists. “Not only is that joke in distaste, but it is also discriminatory and-”

“Oh boy, here we go again,” Roy muttered, shaking his head. “What’s the worst that you can do, Marth? Are you going to use that feathery pink baton that you call a sword to cut off my head and then have se-”

“Guys, I think Bowser’s getting really angry,” Link interrupted. When his colleagues finally ended their quarrel and turned to face him, Link pointed nervously at the roaring Bowser.

Bowser stomped one more step towards the members of Red, Blue, and That Other Guy Incorporated and then roared in fury, “You said you would help!”

Marth and Link took cautious steps backwards as Bowser stormed ever closer towards them, leaving their stubborn colleague to remain fixed in his location with his arms folded. “Yes, I said I’d help you with your problem,” Roy began, “but here’s the problem, Bowser, baby. We’ve not yet discussed the price.”

“ ‘Price?’ ” Bowser repeated gruffly as he stopped in his tracks. “I thought your – umm… - company was free.”

“ ‘Free?’ ” Roy recurred, his eyes widening with shock. He clasped his right hand over his chest and managed to wheeze, “Oh, God, I think I’m going to vomit.”

Marth blinked and stared at Bowser. “So, what, you don’t want our help anymore, then?”

Bowser nodded. Link tapped his chin with his finger as he thought aloud, “This certainly was short-lived.”

“It is not short-lived!” Roy shouted at Link, causing the elf to wince in surprise. “We’re going to help Bowser here, and he’s going to pay me whether he likes it or not!”

---

“Run faster, Bowser!” Roy commanded.

Bowser began to wheeze as he struggled to stay abreast of Roy upon the pathway. “Come on, Bowser!” Roy shouted once more as he slowed his pace to draw alongside his client. “These sweatpants are giving me a wedgie!” Bowser was losing focus on the park pathway as he strained to continue running, his feet stomping onto the concrete pathway and creating a strenuous boom with each step. As he jogged at a dawdling pace with Bowser, Roy cried, “Let’s move it! Only fifteen more miles!” He paused to catch his breath, and then added, “I told you that sixteen miles isn’t difficult!”

Bowser panted as he forced himself to continue running. “I… huh, do not like… this!” he managed to sputter. “Everything… going black!”

“Quit your blubbering!” Roy yelled. “You wouldn’t eat your salad, and so now this is the only way!” He glanced at Bowser while swinging his arms to and fro in an energizing manner to accompany his jogging pace, and then continued, “Hey, maybe if you do a good job on this run,” – he paused to inhale deeply – “then I’ll take you to get some ice cream afterwards!”