Buster Ed Bustered

"And as I said previously, I can write superior works to yours, writer," I smirked smugly. "Let us see the ratings... Ha! Zero negative reviews!"

"There are zero- hold on, there we go- there is only one (negative) review because we're having this conversation only a second after that last chapter's publication! For all the goodness, it wasn't canon. Enjoy the review. It was scathing!" Marshfellow smiled.

"It has now been twenty seconds, so you are wrong, buster," I scolded.

"Buster ED!" outbursted Buster Ed.

We were not even talking to him.

"We weren't even talking to you!" shouted Marshfellow, still falling back down to the arena with all of the might his anti-gravity sugars could muster.

Buster Ed busted, "Well, 'tis rude to igno' thee one ye beith colliding, punko!"

"And your girlfriend, too," added a know-it-all marshmallow.

Zairpag clarified, "Actually, he wasn't ignoring me. He was just concentrating on the match instead of me..."

"Are you kiddin-" I screamed in frustration.

"Because I asked him to," finished the most annoying airbag in existence. Now I miss Tug.

"Aww," Marshfellow mocked, "is somebody jealous?"

"Ye sure beith; o' me, that 'tis!" busted Buster Ed.

Marshfellow stated directly, "Let's do this! I have no reason to hold back on you, fluffy!"

"I beith dusty, not fluffy!" Buster Ed yelled.

The two colliders collided in a collision among colliders of the Collider Association in a collision match. They both shot back toward their corresponding starting positions. Marshfellow quickly sprung forth once having landed, but Buster Ed swept his... feet? Whatever; he is a marshmallow. Marshfellow slammed into the ground, slightly concussed.

"Ouch! I think I'm slightly concussed," complained Marshfellow, slightly concussed.

Do not get slightly concussed, kids.

"Yeah, get hardcore concussions only," said some idiotic troll trying to get the book cancelled that somehow got into the booth. Security!

Buster Ed taunted, "'Tis not over, Marshfella! But since ye beith me first competitor to last so long, me finisher beith appropriate now. Teehee!"

"Yaay!" cheered the crowd... and Marshfellow.

Why are you cheering?

"He's going to get his minister. I wanted to meet him. I'm very religious," a probably more concussed than anticipated Marshfellow explained.

"Uh," a confused Buster Ed started, "I guess 'tis okay to give ye thee Buster Ed Buster, right, punko?"

"Custard-fed mustard? Sounds interesting," Marshfellow mused.

Buster Ed relented, "Okay, it can beith a minu- aargh!"

Marshfellow charged Buster Ed utilizing a sneak attack like a punko. "If you're gonna keep saying I'm one, might as well," he grinned.

"Ye beith a loser!" chided Buster Ed. "Now lose!"

"Okay. If you say so," mislead Marshfellow, "I'll lose you right now!" he said while grabbing the base of the duster head and rotating in preparation for a hammer toss.

Buster Ed snickered, "Hold it, there, fella. Ye thinketh 'tis that easy?" Buster Ed stuck into the floor the top of his head... hair? Whatever; he is a- just forget it. This maneuver halted Marshfellow's, causing him to fall. "More like Marshfalla! Teeheehee!" giggled the buster.

"You laugh," Marshfellow said seriously, "but it looks like you need to use the buster to win against me."

"Thee only busting me needeth when dealing with ye beith busting me sides!" Buster Ed busted his sides.

"Nuking." Marshfellow expanded quickly, so close to Buster Ed, that his bristles were stuck within his marshmallow body. Then Marshfellow dragged Buster Ed toward the position of the cloud.

"I. Cannot. Loseth. Like... This!" belted Buster Ed. He bent himself into a standard sine waveform... or was it cosine? Whatever; it is a- who writes this? I could write a superior story. He shimmied like a worm until he was free of his opponent's sticky grasp. "Fine! Ye earneth thee buster, punko!" Buster Ed busted like he was finally going to bust.

"I've been waiting all chapter for this!" exclaimed the know-it-all marshmallow.

Marshfellow, composed, stated, "Bring it."

Buster Ed jumped at Marshfellow... and began tickling him. "Itchy-hitchy-gitchy!" he sounded.

Marshfellow was not amused. "This is it?" he asked, unimpressed.

"Fitchy-eitchy-ditchy!" Buster Ed kept the technique and sounds continuing.

"Seriously," Marshfellow said frustratedly, "I'm gonna-"

"Kitchy-(censored)-aitchy," finished the buster. He then transformed into a cannon; yes, the canon is cannon. He used the static electricity built from the aggressive tickling to attract Marshfellow to the ammunition loading cell deep inside the barrel.

"Okay, this is impressive!" Marshfellow shouted in approval. "I can accept losing like this!"

Buster Ed fired... I mean, Buster Ed busted his opponent toward the cloud.

"But I don't wanna lose yet." Suddenly, Marshfellow charged up his passion to a new level, a fire of emotion welled within him to a new degree, and he melted into a blob; a veritable pile of mush, if you will. This flattened, surface area-expanded form reduced his velocity just fast enough to avoid contact with the target of Buster Ed's.

"Why, ye little- nobody survives getting Buster Ed bustered!" Buster Ed howled.

"Yeah. I remember that one time you tried," nobody said. "Still here."

Marshfellow the marshmallow mush bellowed, "Well, I guess add me to that list, too! And also, I ain't little!"

Marshfellow continued to expand horizontally taking on the shape and properties of a trampoline pad. He pulled the center of his circle away from the ground, then launched himself toward Buster Ed who was still on the ground. Buster Ed pulled himself downward to launch a counter attack and flung himself into the air, intending to collide.

"Gotcha!" squealed Marshfellow as he returned to his normal form and size. Buster Ed sailed right past him, landing on the cloud.

"Ye darn punko!" Buster Ed seethed. "'Tis pure luck ye useth!"

The crowd, thoroughly impressed, disagreed; until the know-it-all marshmallow intervened. "It really was luck," he stated plainly. "He was unaware of the ability he just used and, thus, it cannot be argued to be a skill-based victory."

"Hey!" protested Marshfellow. "I thought you were on my team!"

The know-it-all marshmallow shook his head, remarking, "I am on no team other than my own and I am your next opponent."

"Yay! You did it, honey!" Zairpag celebrated. "You found a challenger!" Just stop talking, please.

"I've studied you for days," the know-it-all continued, "and I continue to know all there is to know about you; thus you can't defeat me. I am Orenthal. Orenthal Marshpello."

"Okay," Marshfellow replied. "I am-"

"There's no need to tell me your name. I know all there is to know," blurted Orenthal.

Marshfellow explained, "I know, but i-"

"It's proper manners to introduce yourself when meeting somebody new," Marshpello said in a high-pitched mocking tone. "Don't you get it, yet?"

Marshfellow began, "No, I-"

"Guess I don't!" interrupted Orenthal.

Marshfellow whimpered, "So should I just-"

"Stop talking? Yes, you moron! I know all, and it, and everything else!" clamored Orenthal. "Just stay quiet!"

"Okay," said Marshfellow and Marshpello simultaneously in a similar voice.

Everyone stayed silent for a moment, shocked at various revelations that had recently unfurled.

Zairpag, oh, goodness, why, asked, "Do the rest of us have to stop talking, too?"

"No," sneered Orenthal. "I don't want to know what the rest of you do."

"Phew!" a collective sigh of relief was exhaled from the crowd. I guess they just were not speaking out of fear of being predicted and the shouting.

Zairpag inquired, "What are plans for tonight, Marshfellow?"

Marshpello said, "We're gonna go shopping and hope that nothing we're eating is anthropomorphic, baby."

"How did y-" Marshfellow almost asked before Orenthal did a silence motion.

"That sounds good! Hehe!" giggled Zairpag. "Shall we go now, honey?"

"Of course, baby," replied Marshpello. "Let's go."

"Uh," Zairpag questioned, "he's not coming with us, is he?"

"Of course not, you impudent hag!" screeched Marshpello.

"Hey!" Zairpag retaliated. "That's not what Marshfellow would say!"

"Of course not, you impudent hag!" screeched Marshpello.

Marshfellow opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Orenthal stating, "Actually, I would've yelled it this last time as a joke."

"Oh! I get it!" squealed Zairpag jubilantly. "You're cleaver!"

Let me guess. She means clever, does she not?

"No," blurted the know-it-all, "she meant sharp."

Ugh, my handsomeness is going to be lost from the stress of dealing with this mess of an airbag.

"Let's go home, baby," said Marshpello.

"I'm not your baby! Help, honey!" Zairpag screamed.

"Did she forget, or..." questioned Orenthal.

Marshfellow shook his head and began walking to the teleporter to transport home.

"You know, it's rude not to respond people!" outbursted Orenthal.

Marshfellow argued, "But you j-"

"Just interrupted me repeatedly and told me to stay quiet. Pick one!" interrupted repeatedly Marshpello, then adding, "Just stay quiet."

Okay, this story is getting weird. I need my own spinoff.

Write your own stories, kids. Narrating someone else's can have you witness really dumb, obnoxious, and vindictive behavior that can reduce one's attractiveness.

"Well, I call next chapter!" I said; in my dreams; because apparently nobody else liked that chapter. Philistines. Phyllis Green the Philistine: that should be your name, reader. I could write a book better than this.