Author's note: Consider this a sequel to "Pit Stop" ;)



The day was long and hard, as many days of this time of year were. The dreadful summer months lay upon Oregon, offering only an occasional rainstorm. Prime had lost of time of day or night. He remained chained to his desk, balancing the finances and reorganizing repair crews as they worked to clean up and restore the damage done to Central City by the Doppelganger war cult.

A week slipped by followed by several days of constant activity. Magnus had not spoken to Prime since the 'Pit stop' incident-something of which Prime still swears actually happened. Not that Magnus did not believe him, but that the City Commander was less than impressed by the Autobot leader's lack of control over the situation. Optimus was not about to argue his case with Magnus. Once Magnus' mood was set, that was it and Prime learned he just had to wait it out.



But that wasn't the worst of it-not by a long shot. Magnus knew how to get revenge-after all, the city commander had been around for a while and he knew exactly how to get Prime's wires in a knot. He arranged a marriage between Prime and Becki SKIRson.

And she was determined to get a pre-wedding kiss. Optimus was a bit disinclined to her persuasion and did everything he could to avoid her. But it was not to be. He'd go outside. There was Becki. He'd head inside. There's Becki. He turned and ran down a hall, swinging open every door, there she stood, lips puckered, ready for a big sloppy kiss.

He screamed, slammed the door and ran away. But lo! She came, dressed in the WORST of wedding gowns. Becki SKIRson chased him down the hall, her puke and hot pink gown flowed while the snail-pea green trim and her bobbing bustle bounced with her every move. She wailed with a sing-song voice, objectionable enough to make nails on chalk boards sound melodious. "Come back, my big bright shiny object!"

Prime burst through a fifth door down the hallway. There stood Megatron. Prime had no time to wonder how Megatron could be alive. His only concern was the mad woman after him. Optimus ducked behind the Decepticon leader as the miniature human came dashing into the room, a bouquet of wilting flowers in hand. She sneered at Megatron and pointed to Prime. "HE'S MINE!!"

Megatron glanced from her to Prime and back and grinned most viciously . . . and graciously stepped aside.

Prime bolted.

Becki SKIRson hauled out an oversized butterfly net from a subspace pocket under her left bustle and swiped and swept the air with all her might. Optimus leapt over this and that, dodging him and her and in one door and out the other but to no avail. The bride-to-be caught her mech.

Optimus fell flat, struggling like a helpless butterfly caught in a mad spider's sticky web. And this blonde-headed spider climbed over the mountain of his physic, laughing gleefully. "Mine, Mine! All mine!" She tripped over her wedding gown, her hot and puke pink wedding gown, her wedding gown complete with snail-pee green bustle and trim. It did not matter. Becki SKIRson crawled her way toward the face of the helpless Autobot leader. She drooled in anticipation, her heart pounded under her hot pink wedding dress, inching, inching.

"NOOOOoooo!" Prime struggled to no avail.

"Oh YES!" she panted, "Morning, noon and night! MINE!" And she puckered her lips-those nasty over-glossed lips.

Optimus cringed and woke to find himself at his desk on an early Saturday morning. There a little ten year-old sat quietly before the huge view screen, watching Loony Tunes.

He was safe. Everything was well. And he decided to take the (safe) little ten year-old out for ice cream.


T.L. Arens