Title: Sometimes, Mus musculus seems to have the right idea
Title: Sometimes, Mus musculus seems to have the right idea
By: Fianna9
Verse: G1
Rating: G
Summary: Never leave the kids unsupervised in your lab
Disclaimer: I have never claimed to own Transformers. I am just borrowing it for a bit.
A/N: I have no idea where this came from, but the comment is something I’ve heard many times.
*Crash*
“I didn’t mean to…”
“Hot Shot’s gonna be…”
“How long until…”
“…hiding this from ‘Bolt, right?”
“don’t think, that’s obvio….”
“half a processor…”
“Me S…”
“Ohhh….shiny…”
“Not now!”
“We’re in so much….”
*Thud*
“nobody picks on my brother but me!”
“Wow, I didn’t know that would…”
“Is he gonna get up?”
*Thump*
“What ya gonna do, tell ‘Jack?”
“Uhm, I don’t…”
“Prowl’s gonna…”
“Owe!”
“think you stooped bot….”
“Oops?”
“We’ll have to carry…”
“…chet will turn us in ‘t toasters?”
“Not it Ironhide get’s ‘ere first…”
“bot…SMASH!”
“We’re doomed!”
“That’s my ‘pede’s!”
“Somebody’s coming.”
“Run for it!”
The mass of chaos and disorder scrambled away, headed towards the relative safety of the outdoors while being pursued by an angry Ironhide and Red Alert.
Perceptor stopped partway down the hall, having just concluded his conversation with Skyfire about their analysis of the newest readings from Saturn. There was chartreuse and gray smoke drifting down the hall towards him, and it was emitting from the direction of this laboratory.
Peering through the partially jammed door, Perceptor stared forlorn, overwhelmed by the chaos in his lab. The shattered remains of three terrariums were piled haphazardly against one wall. Both the remains and the wall were splattered with emerald and mauve paint. The highest priority was to ascertain the location and current condition of the organic inhabitants of the terrariums; their survival of the destruction would cause the construction of new domiciles to be paramount. The lab bench upturned in the opposing corner bore the distinctive imprints of a Dinobot’s large servos and the side of Sideswipe’s helm. Two terminals crackled and sparked in scattered pieces on the floor, surrounded by trampled heaps of energon-splattered datapads. The remains of what appeared to be one of Wheeljack’s experiment partially protruded from the ventilation system. The smoke spewing from the remains was steadily obscuring the heavily-fractured ceiling.
Taking in the totality of the destruction, Perceptor opened a comm line, his frustration and anger audible as he focused on the two Autobots responsible for creating the horrors that had just destroyed his personal domain. “Wheeljack, Ratchet, as the creation of the majority of these miscreants was your proposal, I am obligated to inform you that I have obtained a new comprehension of the organic proclivity towards the consumption of offspring when stressed.”
A/N: Mus musculus is the common house mouse.
By: Fianna9
Verse: G1
Rating: G
Summary: Never leave the kids unsupervised in your lab
Disclaimer: I have never claimed to own Transformers. I am just borrowing it for a bit.
A/N: I have no idea where this came from, but the comment is something I’ve heard many times.
*Crash*
“I didn’t mean to…”
“Hot Shot’s gonna be…”
“How long until…”
“…hiding this from ‘Bolt, right?”
“don’t think, that’s obvio….”
“half a processor…”
“Me S…”
“Ohhh….shiny…”
“Not now!”
“We’re in so much….”
*Thud*
“nobody picks on my brother but me!”
“Wow, I didn’t know that would…”
“Is he gonna get up?”
*Thump*
“What ya gonna do, tell ‘Jack?”
“Uhm, I don’t…”
“Prowl’s gonna…”
“Owe!”
“think you stooped bot….”
“Oops?”
“We’ll have to carry…”
“…chet will turn us in ‘t toasters?”
“Not it Ironhide get’s ‘ere first…”
“bot…SMASH!”
“We’re doomed!”
“That’s my ‘pede’s!”
“Somebody’s coming.”
“Run for it!”
The mass of chaos and disorder scrambled away, headed towards the relative safety of the outdoors while being pursued by an angry Ironhide and Red Alert.
Perceptor stopped partway down the hall, having just concluded his conversation with Skyfire about their analysis of the newest readings from Saturn. There was chartreuse and gray smoke drifting down the hall towards him, and it was emitting from the direction of this laboratory.
Peering through the partially jammed door, Perceptor stared forlorn, overwhelmed by the chaos in his lab. The shattered remains of three terrariums were piled haphazardly against one wall. Both the remains and the wall were splattered with emerald and mauve paint. The highest priority was to ascertain the location and current condition of the organic inhabitants of the terrariums; their survival of the destruction would cause the construction of new domiciles to be paramount. The lab bench upturned in the opposing corner bore the distinctive imprints of a Dinobot’s large servos and the side of Sideswipe’s helm. Two terminals crackled and sparked in scattered pieces on the floor, surrounded by trampled heaps of energon-splattered datapads. The remains of what appeared to be one of Wheeljack’s experiment partially protruded from the ventilation system. The smoke spewing from the remains was steadily obscuring the heavily-fractured ceiling.
Taking in the totality of the destruction, Perceptor opened a comm line, his frustration and anger audible as he focused on the two Autobots responsible for creating the horrors that had just destroyed his personal domain. “Wheeljack, Ratchet, as the creation of the majority of these miscreants was your proposal, I am obligated to inform you that I have obtained a new comprehension of the organic proclivity towards the consumption of offspring when stressed.”
A/N: Mus musculus is the common house mouse.