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As another holiday rolls around, you all know what that means...another installment of the Lewa# Studios Holiday Series for your entertainment! And on this very green day, where else should we start but in Le-Metru? Imitation Celebration A BIONICLE comedy by Me! Part 6 of the Lewa# Studios Holiday Series 2015-2016 Turaga Matau looked out the window of his hut as Turaga Dume approached, completely painted green and with shamrocks sticking out of his mask. (Rather than any of his many bizarre holiday-specific masks, however, he was apparently just wearing his regular mask painted green like the rest of him). “Dume, please go quick-away…” Matau muttered. Of course, Dume didn’t listen; for one, he couldn’t hear Matau from that far away, and for two, he wouldn’t have listened even if he could hear it. In no time at all, Dume was knocking on Matau’s front door. “Hello-Hi, Turaga-Old-People!” Dume called out in a horrendous impersonation of a chutespeak accent. “Open-open this-that door-door, please-begging!” “‘Door-door?’ Really?” Sighing, Matau reluctantly opened the door. “Hello Dume,” he said. “Hi-hello, Matau-Matau! I-me am-am a-a Le-Air Matoran-Tohunga! Don’t-not do-do you-Matau like-enjoy it-me?” “Why are you talk-speaking like a moron-krekka?” “What-huh? I-me am-am speaking-talking Chutespeak-treespeak, obviously-duh!” Don’t-can’t you-Matau get-see that-that?” “No one talks-speaks like that; this has got to be the most terrible-bad Le-Matoran impression I’ve ever seen. Would you just go away-far and leave me alone?” “Except-but you-you must-have to-to celebrate-celebrate this-that holiday-day! It’s-it’s you-your favorite-best day-day! A-a day-day when-when everyone-all becomes-turns Le-Air Matoran-Tohunga!” “You’re not a Le-Matoran; you’re a Turaga-geezer of Fire who painted himself green-emerald,” observed Matau. “Now please stop annoying-bothering me!” “Nope-can’t! I-me am-am just-now starting-getting warmed-heated up-down! Today-day is-is full-filled with-with ideas-celebrations!” Matau promptly slammed the door. “Hi-hello Onewa-Turaga!” exclaimed the green-painted Turaga Dume, as he knocked on the door to the Turaga’s Home. “Go-come join-follow me-me to-for our-our Le-Air Matoran-Tohunga’s Day-Holiday!” “Dume, what holiday is it this time? I’m trying to sleep,” Onewa complained, leaning his head out the window. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the sight. “Why is everything green?” “Since-because it’s-it’s Le-Air Matoran-Tohunga’s Day-Holiday, obviously-duh!” Onewa glanced at what appeared to be a sizeable portion of the population of Po-Metru arranged behind Dume, all of whom were painted entirely green and had shamrocks and other various odds and ends sticking out of their masks. “What is this, a parade?” he asked. “Hmm-umm,” thought Dume. “That’s an awesome-great thought-idea, Onewa-you! Let’s-let’s go-travel back-return to-to Le-Air Metru-city!” Although Dume’s increasingly terrible Le-Matoran accent was starting to get annoying, Onewa shrugged and opened the door. “I guess I have nothing better to do today…” he muttered. “Come on, Vakama.” Somewhere inside the house, Vakama staggered to his feet and looked outside. Dume immediately ran up to him. “Hi-hello, you-Turaga Fire-Vakama, join-join us-us in-inside this-that parade-march!” “BACK, YOU FOUL CREATURE! ONE MORE STEP AND I’LL--” Vakama shouted, bonking Dume on the head with his firestaff. “Ouch-oww, what’s-what’s wrong-bad with-with him-Vakama?” asked Dume. “He...does that sometimes,” explained Onewa, quickly shutting the door before Vakama could continue to try to beat up Dume. “In his defense, though, all that green paint does kinda make you look like a Lehrak.” “WHAT!?” demanded Dume. “...Uh, I mean, ‘WHAT-WHAT!?’ I-me don’t-do-not appear-look like-like a-a Lehrak-Lehrak!” “Actually, you really do…” “Shut-shut up-down!” “‘Up-down?’” asked Onewa with a . “You know what, never mind. Let’s just start this parade already. In fact, I have a great idea for a route!” “Really-really? Cool-awesome, show-show it-it to-to me-Dume!” “ “ emoticonned the Turaga of Stone, as he quickly scribbled a rough map of Le-Metru onto a conveniently placed tablet and showed it to Dume…. “Matau-Turaga!” exclaimed Kongu after he’d accidentally dive-bombed a chute transport into the Turaga’s house that afternoon, as part of their daily routine. “Have you seen-heard what Dume’s been doing?” Matau groaned and rubbed his eyes. Then he realized that he couldn’t rub his eyes, due to the mask covering his face, and so he rubbed his mask instead. Then he accidentally knocked his mask off in the process and was temporarily rendered unconscious for several long, awkward moments. Then Kongu just stood there whistling the Mask of Light theme while he waited for Matau to wake up. Then Nokama finally wandered downstairs, noticed Matau’s unconscious mask-less self, and put his mask back on his face. Then Matau woke up again. “Oh, hello Kongu,” he said, “you’re still now-here?” “Yes,” Kongu observed dryly. “What were we speak-talking about...oh, right, Dume. I don’t know-think who he knows-thinks he is, pretending to be a Le-Matoran like that.” “It’s not just him anymore, though! Lots of Matoran and even Onewa-Turaga have joined his parade in Po-Metru!” “That’s not a surprise-shock,” Matau commented, “He-Onewa hates me. Where are they now?” “Uhh....” uhhed Kongu. “Hold on.” The Le-Matoran ran out the door (which had been squished by the chute transport from earlier, so he didn’t so much go out the door as he did over it), hopped onto a conveniently placed Gukko, flew off, and flew back in five seconds later with another chute transport, which he promptly crashed into Matau’s back door. Nokama laughed. “I did warn you about karma all those years ago when you crashed everything into everyone else’s house…” she mentioned. “Don’t remind-remember me,” said Matau. “Okay Kongu, what did you see-find?” “You won’t believe this, but they’re going-coming back here, to Le-Metru!” “ “ emoticonned Matau. “Again? Why won’t they leave me alone-solo?” “Actually,” said Kongu, “this might be a good-awesome thing.” “How could Dume and Onewa coming now-here toa nnoy me possibly be a good thing??” An odd-looking Toa suddenly popped his head into the wreckage of the house. “Did somebody call me? I’m Toa Nnoy, Toa of Typos!” “ ” emoticonned Kongu, Matau, and Nokama simultaneously. “Uhh...no,” said Nokama. Toa Nnoy shrugged. “Fair enough. I guess I’ll go back to tracking down the Rahkshi of Letter Control.” He then left as randomly as he had come. The three of them stared after the randomly appearing Toa for several long, awkward moments. Then, finally, Nokama said, “You know what? Let’s all just pretend that never happened.” “Okay-good idea, Turaga,” said Kongu. “So! Turaga Matau, we should prank-trick Onewa right back at him!” “What did you have in brain-mind?” “Let me explain it to you…” Onewa triumphantly marched into Le-Metru at the head of a parade of Po-Matoran and Turaga Dume, all of whom were doused in green paint and trying to act like Le-Matoran...well, trying of course being the operative word here. The actual Le-Matoran they passed were getting more and more annoyed with their attempts at chutespeak...especially Dume’s, which had apparently just devolved into his repeating every word twice. “Hi-hi all-all you-you friendly-friendly Le-Le Matoran-Matoran! Happy-Happy Le-Le Matoran’s-Matoran’s Day-Day!” “Dume-Turaga, you’re doing-working it-that wrong-incorrect,” Onewa said. “You just-only make you-yourself look-seem stupid-dumb. We’re trying-attempting to act-be exactly-really just-like real-true Le-Matoran!” “What-what are-are you-you talking-talking about-about? I-I sound-sound exactly-exactly like-like how-how Le-Le Matoran-Matoran speak-speak in-in real-real life-life!” Every single Le-Matoran in the whole city collectively facepalmed at that moment. As they finally drew closer to Matau’s house, Onewa started to dance around and sing as loud as he could in order to get Matau’s attention. After several minutes of making himself look like a moron, however, he realized no one was in the house. “Oh, come on!” he groaned, momentarily forgetting to use fake chutespeak. “Hi, Onewa! Look over here!” called Matau from a nearby rooftop. Onewa turned to look...and his eyes widened. “What the--what--” he stammered. Matau and a good chunk of the Le-Matoran were arranged on a rooftop, all of whom were covered in paint of various shades of brown and tan. Not only that, but they all carried rocks and hammers in their hands and were bouncing up and down bopping themselves over the heads with them. “Look at us! We’re Po-Matoran!” “But-but it’s-it’s not-not Po-Po Matoran’s-Matoran’s Day-Day!” protested Dume. “It is now!” crowed Matau as he bonked himself over the head with his hammer. Onewa, annoyed, shooed the crows away. “You can’t make fun of me! I was going to make fun of you! You stole my idea!” “Exactly! Wheeeeeeee~!” shouted Matau. “Okay-okay fine-fine, forget-forget this-this!” said Dume. “I-I have-have a-a better-better idea-idea!” The Turaga then ran off somewhere in the general direction of Ko-Metru. Onewa, Matau, and all of the Po- and Le-Matoran shrugged. “Well, now that we’re all dressed as each other, why don’t we trade Metrus for a day?” suggested Matau. “But what if he ruins our house?” asked Nokama worriedly. Matau gestured pointedly at their house, which was now little more than a pile of rubble with multiple chute transports crashed into it. “If he can figure-find out a way to ruin-destroy it even more, then I’ll be impressed.” “Good point. Though speaking of ruining things, I should probably go and check on Ga-Metru. Who knows what Dume’s usual holiday antics might have done to it this time?” However, on their way to Po-Metru, Matau and the Le-Matoran all stopped as they noticed two huge crowds, one of Ko-Matoran and the other of Onu-Matoran, blocking their path. However, on a second look, the Matoran he’d thought were Ko-Matoran were actually Onu-Matoran covered in white paint, and the Matoran he’d thought were Onu-Matoran were actually Ko-Matoran covered in ashes from Ta-Metru’s furnaces. “We don’t have paint,” explained a random Ko-Matoran coldly. The Onu-Matoran dressed up like Ko-Matoran, including Whenua, were making big fools of themselves. “I like the future I like the stars, I like the future that might be on Mars,” they were singing as they wandered around with giant telescopes glued to their eyes and staring upward, bumping into each other constantly due to not being able to see where they were going. “We’re Ko-Matoran!” “Beepity beep beep gibberish gibberish I can’t even speak Matoran!” Whenua was saying, while Onepu, who was apparently pretending to be a translator, said “Nuju says ‘I dance the cha-cha like a sissy girl!” Of course, the Ko-Matoran dressed up like Onu-Matoran were giving as good as they got. “Mining mining mining mining mining!” said one group, as they crawled around with their rear ends in the air, their faces stuck to the dirt, and various random mining tools held in their hands. “Digging digging digging digging digging!” Like the Onu-Matoran with their telescopes, these Ko-Matoran were bumping into each other due to not being able to see where they were going. Nuju walked around with a pile of history textbooks on his head. “I’m Whenua, I don’t care about the future! I just want to study history all day! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaawn...even pretending to be you is boring…” “Out of the way, Po-Matoran coming through!” shouted Matau as he and the Le-Matoran wandered through the crowds, bonking themselves and each other on the heads with hammers and rocks. “Carvity carve carve!” Meanwhile, Nokama walked into Ga-Metru and saw that it was filled with Ta-Matoran covered in blue paint, accompanied by Dume, who had now somehow become drenched in paint of all six BIONICLE colors. “Blub blub blub blub blub! FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH~!” Jaller shouted as he ran around with a fish on his head. “Let’s learn about FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH~!” “Let’s go sailing and boating and canoeing and kayaking and sailing and pontooning and sailing and sailing!” said Nuhrii. “And then I can teach everyone how to go sailing and boating and canoeing and…” “I’m Nokama, and I’m in LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE with Matau!” said a blue-painted Vakama. “I’m so in love that I’m in love! I’m so in love that I’m obsessed with the ‘wub’ emoticon! I’m so in love that I slap him constantly! It’s all my fault that I’m making fun of Nokama!” At this last one, Dume bonked him over the head with his own firestaff, that had two extra pieces duct-taped to the end of it to make it resemble a trident “Dume,” Nokama said, not wanting to get involved in this ludicrous display of stupidity, “do you mind telling me where my Ga-Matoran went? And what, exactly, are you supposed to be now?” “I’m a Letapoonugako-Matoran, obviously!” “ ” “And your Ga-Matoran are right here. Are you blind?” Nokama, annoyed, walked up to him and with a *SLAP!* slapped him across the face. “No, I mean the real Ga-Matoran.” “They’re right here!” As Nokama readied her slapping hand again, Dume hastily added, “...Although now that you mention it, there are a bunch of Ta-Matoran in Ta-Metru.” Nokama sighed. “Figures. Thanks anyway. Don’t destroy the Great Temple!” *CRASH!* “Too late…” The Turaga of Water gazed out over the forges of Ta-Metru, which were now staffed entirely by Ga-Matoran, who had apparently tried to cover themselves in red paint, but it all melted off from the heat, so they’d given up. Piles of protodermis that were apparently supposed to resemble Kanohi were launching out of the furnaces and getting thrown around like frisbees, even though frisbees don’t exist in BIONICLE. “There you are, Turaga! Come join us; we’re Ta-Matoran!” shouted Macku. She then set a pile of sticks on her head on fire. “I’m on fire! I’m a Ta-Matoran! I’m on fire! Wheeeeeeeeeee!” “I love discs! And masks! And forging! Look at this, it’s perfect!” shouted Kai, picking up a hideous lump of protodermis and chucking it into a fire. Nokama looked around for a few moments, then sighed in defeat as she spotted a conveniently placed bucket of red paint nearby. “When in Stelt, do as the Steltians do…” she muttered as she upended the bucket over her head. “I’m Vakama! It’s all my fault that I’m Vakama! It’s all my fault we’re in Ta-Metru! It’s all my fault that there’s paint everywhere! It’s all my fault…!” “You’re supposed to make the impressions funny, not accurate,” said a brown-painted Matau who had suddenly wandered in. “It’s all my fault I did this wrong! It’s all my fault I don’t know how to exaggerate this any more than it already is! It’s all my fault Vakama’s ridiculous antics are already funny! It’s all my fault…!” Dume walked into the scene after a long day of having toured the other Metrus and taking part in everyone’s imitation antics. “That was a great holiday,” he commented as he looked at the blotchy mess of paint all over his armor. “Though I don’t know why the Le-Matoran were so annoyed with me in the first place. My-my chutespeak-chutespeak impression-impression is-is flawless-flawless!” Unbeknownst to anyone else on Metru Nui, Makuta was that very day planning to invade the city with an army of Rahkshi. Before his attack, he took some time to turn invisible and scout out the city. Upon seeing the Po-Matoran bonking themselves over the heads and singing about carving, the Le-Matoran speaking in horrendously terrible chutespeak, the Onu-Matoran with their faces glued to the ground, the Ko-Matoran with their faces literally glued to their telescopes, the Ga-Matoran spazzing out and running around like idiots screaming about fish and sailing, and a different group of Ga-Matoran who were apparently convinced they were Ta-Matoran, and the Ta-Matoran having apparently vanished entirely, he just shook his head and turned his army around. “You know what...I’ve decided Metru Nui isn’t even worth conquering anymore…” he commented as he evilled his way back to his lair. Upon entering his fortress at Destral, though, he stopped in mid-evil-stride and stared with his mouth hanging open. A group of Toa and Matoran, covered in black and red paint, were dancing around his throne room making complete fools of themselves. “We’re so evil, evil is so fun, I love evil, it’s so fun,” sang the Matoran. “I’m Makuta Terry-ducks! I have a stupid name and my voice sounds like I ingested several gallons of sandpaper!” said what he could now see was a black-painted Takanuva. Makuta couldn’t even say anything. His mouth opened and shut several times in sheer astonishment at the audacity of these Av-Matoran and Takanuva. Finally, he just backed slowly and awkwardly out of the room. Something is wrong with this entire universe, he thought to himself. It’s like it’s made it a personal goal toa nnoy me. Toa Nnoy appeared. “Did you summon me telepathically? I’m Toa Nnoy, Toa of Typos!” I’ve been annoyed for the last time! That does it, I am taking over the universe itself! THE END Lewa0111 the Word Counting Character: Look at me! I can count the words of a comedy and say them at the end! Also I speak in script in prose comedies for some reason! And this comedy has 2,763 words! ~Happy St. Patrick’s Day from Lewa# Studios! Halloween Special 2015 Thanksgiving Special 2015 Christmas Special 2015 New Year’s Special 2015 Valentine’s Special 2016 Bob the Word Counting Matoran (Look at me! I’m the author! I write these comedies two days late all the time and constantly go on hiatuses! And I’m not even that funny!)
Drew up a quick St. Patrick's Day Toa. Just about everything about it is rough but it was just a simple ideal I wanted to illustrate St. Patrick's Day Toa Decided he'd be a Toa of the Green, and wears a Mask of Possibilities (naturally) Enjoy Astris Janus