"Night Of The Werewolves" -(Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Master Shake, M)

[SleepingPhlox]

Okay, again, despite the title they are not teenagers, Master Shake is canonically somewhere around 40 depending on what point things take place.  Very important.  These are age appropriate anthropomorphic food items, okay?

That said, this is a weird fic because it's based on a weird show and I can't imagine that this will be to anyone's tastes except mine, but MAN did I need to write it.  This fic has a giant talking milkshake sneezing, descriptions of mess, and sneeze torture played as comedy.  It's definitely more weird, than hot. I tried very much to emulate the tone and the pacing of the show.

Summary: An invasion of...rather unorthodox werewolves has hit town.  The Aqua Teen Hunger Force must face a journey through the pouring rain to escape.  This goes sideways real quick. But the Aqua Teen Hunger Force always find a way to save the day, and humanity, it's just what they do.

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"Night Of The Werewolves"

“It was a dark and stormy night” might be a cliche way to begin a spooky tale, but the fact is that it was a dark and stormy night. Very dark, and very stormy, in fact. Rain pelted at the windows, and every time lightning flashed outside, the electricity flickered, and Meatwad whimpered in terror at the prospect of the lights going off for good. And then a second or two later, the loud clap of thunder would echo through the house, and Meatwad would whimper again at the sound.

But, there was a problem far worse than a thunderstorm for the citizens of New Jersey to contend with, and that problem happened to be werewolves. This area seemed to have a higher concentration of weird occurrences than most places, what with cars being crushed by giant robots or houses being burned down by aliens on a semi-regular basis. But werewolves? That was a new one.

The fact that a large sentient milkshake was getting increasingly annoyed at a sentient meatball for interrupting his TV marathon with pathetic whimpering, or the fact that both of them were now being approached by a large sentient floating box of fries with a goatee, all of that was perfectly normal for this neighbourhood. So normal, in fact, that it was barely even worth wasting the time it just took to mention it.

A bolt of lightning flashed, and the lights in the room dimmed for the briefest of moments. Meatwad – the aforementioned meatball – whimpered in fear. Master Shake – the aforementioned milkshake – finally lost his patience, and grabbed a golf club that he'd had stored beside his chair for exactly this sort of moment, and struck Meatwad over the head with it, repeatedly and furiously.

“I told you this was going to happen if you didn't shut up,” Master Shake shouted. “And now look what you brought upon yourself. You are making me do this, do you hear me? You drove me to this!”

Frylock – the aforementioned...well, you see the pattern here – cleared his throat to get Shake's attention. When that didn't work, he calmly said: “Shake...”. And when that didn't work, he shouted “Damn it, Shake, quit whaling on Meatwad for a second so you guys can listen to me!”

“What do you want?” Shake shrieked, turning around in his chair just enough to face the newest source of his irritation. “Can't you see I'm busy here?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can get back to that in a second. Look...”

Frylock, using the two extra-long retractable fries in his head that served as his hands, held some sort of a device out for Shake to look at. It had a screen with a simple display, which appeared to be some sort of radar output, a boring green grid with a lame green line circling around and a bunch of red dots advancing toward the center. Shake was immediately bored.

“I do not care about your lame-ass video game,” he declared, slapping the device from Frylocks hand and knocking it to the floor, where it promptly exploded for some reason. “Come get me when you have Call of Duty, or I Have To Kill You Now.”

Frylock immediately pulled an identical device from behind him, which was weird because he didn't have anywhere back there to store anything. Unless...

“Shake, listen,” Frylock continued, a note of urgency creeping into his voice. “This is the Werewolf Detector I just finished inventing.You see these red dots? Those are all the werewolves in the area. They're converging on this spot. If we don't get to a safe place, they'll be here within a couple of hours.”

Master Shake just stared at him for a moment. Then, he shrugged. “So?”

“So? What do you mean, 'so'? They'll turn us into werewolves!”

“No they won't,” Master Shake chuckled. “First of all, they turn people by humping their legs, however the hell that's supposed to make sense. But, anyway, none of us have legs. So, nothing to worry about.”

“But we don't know if they can turn people by humping other body parts! And that's not something I want to find out the hard way!”

“Suit yourself. More hot werewolf action for me.”

“They'll turn you into a werewolf!”

“And? It's a known fact that chicks dig hairy chests. I fail to see what the problem is, here.”

“You'll be doomed to be a werewolf forever, giving in to your animalistic urges every full moon!” When Shake simply shrugged and turned back to the television, Frylock lost the last bit of patience he had. Every moment they stayed here arguing was a moment the werewolves were advancing! He grabbed the remote, and turned off the television.

“Hey!” Shake protested, jumping up from his chair and squaring up to Frylock as best a drink cup with hands but no arms could manage. “I was watching that!”

“There is no time for silly little TV shows! We need to get out of here and to the spooky abandoned cabin in the woods as quickly as possible!”

“Fine. I'm bringing the TV, though. And Meatwad is carrying it. He owes me for being so annoying and forcing me to put a beatdown on him.”

“That is true,” Meatwad agreed jovially. “I did do that.”

“There's no electricity in the spooky abandoned cabin in the woods.”

Shake huffed, glared at him, and then hopped over to the television, maintaining eye contact with Frylock the entire time. Grunting from the effort, he pushed at it until he finally got it to slide off the TV stand and onto the ground, where it promptly exploded for some reason.

“There! Now nobody gets to watch the TV! Are you happy now?”

Frylock simply calmly raised an eyebrow, and stared at him for three or four seconds with a stoic and blank expression which somehow managed to sting like hundreds of little judgemental daggers. Or, it would, if Shake had the self awareness to feel remorse for anything he did, ever, or the capacity to understand consequences.

“Alright,” Frylock said. “If we're done here, we need to make a move. Time is of the essence.”

“I just have one question,” Meatwad piped up. “What's 'humping'?”

“Not now, Meatwad,” Frylock replied.

****

As soon as they got outside, and hopped into the “Danger Cart” - the makeshift wooden cart they screwed to Meatwad's head so he could pull them around - they realised to their horror that not all of the “rain” was rain. It was hail. But, considering that around here it could easily have been poison or acid or fire or talking frogs that incessantly quote Shakespeare...hail didn't seem so bad.

Except that it was hard and hurt like a bitch.

Well, Meatwad didn't seem to notice it, the ice chips just seemed to absorb into his weird meaty body, and Frylock was bearing the pain with grit and determination, only occasionally grunting when a big one got into his eye. But Shake on the other hand...

“OW! OW! OWOWOW!” he shrieked. “This was a stupid, stupid idea! OW! The rain is messing up my hair, and it's getting in my straw, and the hail...OW!...the hail sucks ass!”

Frylock turned around just enough to give Shake a side eye.

“Your...hair..?”

“Yeah. I found one on the ground the other day so I taped it to my lid. Don't pretend like you didn't notice. It was long and blonde and made me look like a rock star. And now it's probably ruined. All because of you and your stupid spooky abandoned cabin.” Shake had several more complaints lined up and ready to fire off, but a large hail stone flew into his straw, causing him to choke and sputter thanks to the peculiarities of giant sentient milkshake anatomy.

Master Shake tried to wrap his arms around himself, despite the futility of that since his hands didn't go very far, being directly connected to the sides of his cup as they were, meaning this was probably set in one of the earlier seasons before he started being able to move his hands around all over the place, and this being brought up right now means it will probably be important later.

“It's so...c-cold...” he whined, the tone of his voice much less strident and much more pathetic than his earlier complaining had been. “D-does the c-cabin have...have...hahhhSHOOO!...heaters?”

“Probably a fireplace, and maybe we'll find some firewood if we're lucky. The important thing is that we'll be far away from civilisation, where nobody can hear us call for help if the werewolves come for us, which they won't, because we'll be at the perfect hideout.”

“Okay, screw this thed, I'b goi'g hobe,” Shake grumbled, sniffling loudly. “I...hahhSHHOOO!...I'b suddedly dot feeli'g so good...”

“We're here now, so going home makes no sense. And I'm sure you're fine, it's just a litte rain, nothing that-...” Frylock turned around, and his eyes widened in alarm. “Whoa! Why didn't you say something earlier?”

“I did say sobethi'g. I have beed sayi'g sobethi'g this whole time,” Shake raged, waving his stubby yellow hands in frustration.

“Yeah but...oh god, your nose...uh, well, your...uh... place where you'd have a nose if you had one is dripping and...ugh!” Frylock recoiled from the very sight of Shake's pink straw drooping pathetically as a yellowish green mucus dripped from it onto Shake's lid. Or head. The lid that was the top of his head. There weren't many linguistic conventions for describing giant talking milkshake anatomy, because for most of the population, such a thing simply never came up in conversation.

“Yeah,” Shake retorted. “I'b sick dow, because somebody insisted I go out in the rain, instead of staying home to watch TV and maybe, if I'm lucky, get humped by werewolves.”

“You guys...what's humping?” Meatwad piped up, as if to remind everyone that he was still there.

“Not now, Meatwad,” Frylock grumbled. “Come on, Shake, lets get you inside and see if we can build a fire to warm the place up.”

As it turned out, the abandoned cabin in the woods was the worst, suckiest place in the whole world – at least in Shake's expert opinion, which he repeated as often as possible just to make sure that everyone was quite aware of his feelings on the subject. There was a leak in the roof, every piece of furniture had been chewed up by rats, urinated on by the sizeable local stray cat population, and then soaked with rain. The wooden floor had been rotted through in places and the worst part was that the fireplace was full of trash and weeds, and the remains of what had once been a raccoon. The only thing that betrayed any sign that this had once been a cozy abode was a singular decorative plate on what was left of the wooden mantelpiece over what was left of what had been the fireplace.

Master Shake was now feeling thoroughly sorry for himself. To cheer himself up, he reached up and knocked the plate to the floor, where it promptly exploded for some reason. But that small act simply wasn't enough to vent all of his frustration.

“hahhSHOOO! I cad't lie dowd... hahhSHOOO! I cad't get adythi'g to eat...I don't eved have a...a... hahhhSHOOOO! blanket!” He sighed and flopped onto his side on the wet and dirty floor. Staying upright was becoming far too difficult, and getting whatever gross floor stuff was down there on his face seemed like a lesser evil than being miserable and exhausted.

“I deed a tissue,” Shake groaned.

“We don't have any tissues,” Frylock replied.

“Well thed I deed a napkin or a towel or a curtaid or an old shirt or something.”

“We don't have any of those either.”

Shake groaned again. “Beatwad, go outside a'd get be a bunch of leaves to blow by dose in. And then hold them for me so I can blow my nose.”

“Okay,” Meatwad said brightly, and began to roll toward the wooden door, which was now held in place by a broken and truly rank chair – it seemed that particular chair had been the prime urinating spot of choice for all the local stray cats.

“Meatwad, no! Get back here! We can't go outside or we'll alert the werewolves to our position. Shake, you're just going to have to suck it up and deal until we can get out of here. It should just be one night. That's how werewolves work, isn't it?”

Shake whimpered and sobbed, and rolled over onto his other side, muttering quietly to himself: “I didn't even want to come out to this stupid cabin. I wanted to stay inside where it was dry and warm and watch my shows and maybe get some hot werewolf action. HahhhSHOOO!”

But Frylock was not paying attention. He had other problems to worry about. Red dots on a green screen type problems.

“Oh, no...” he gasped. “How did they possibly find us this far from civilisation? And now nobody will hear us if we call for help! How could this plan have possibly gone so wrong? Meatwad! Shake! We're going to need to find a new hideout. I know of an even spookier, even more abandoned cabin even deeper in the woods.”

Master Shake let out the most pathetic groan he could muster, and rolled over onto his back. “I'm too sick...” He coughed. “Just leave me here to...hahhhSHHOOO!...to get some hot werewolf action and then turn into a werewolf so I can use my werewolf strength to kick your ass for making me come out there and...hahhhSHOOOO!...get sick from the rain.”

“Shake, I am not leaving you behind,” Frylock declared dramatically, floating over to Shake to help him up...or, rather, force him into an upright position against his will. Shake glared at him, but had little energy to do much else. Even his angry glare was largely impotent, his drooping eyes and leaking face and leaking straw taking the edge off any threat he might have posed. “Now, it will take us a couple of hours, but once we make it to the even spookier, even more abandoned cabin, we'll be-” Suddenly, Frylock froze in abject horror. “Meatwad...who are you talking to?”

“And you're saying people would respect me?” Meatwad chirped, seemingly talking to the wooden door.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” came a rumbling voice from the other side of the door. “If you're a werewolf, people gotta respect you, because otherwise you'll punch them in the face with your werewolf strength."

“Or eat 'em, huh?” Meatwad asked cheerfully.

“Oh, god no. We're vegan werewolves. That's why we do the whole humping thing. No biting for us, no meat passes these lips.”

“Oh. Well. I guess punching is good too. I mean, I'd prefer biting, but I guess I could punch 'em. Now just explain one thing to me...what's humping?”

“Don't worry about that, I'll explain all about that as soon as you open the door and let me in so we can talk face to face.”

“Okay!” Meatwad said brightly, and started to push the broken, rank,urine soaked chair away.

“Meatwad, no!” Frylock exclaimed.

“But there's someone out there who wants to talk to me, and tell me all about how werewolves get respected, and anyone can be a werewolf, but you can't bite nobody, cause they can't have no meat passing those lips and they're gonna tell me what humping means but...hey, wait. My lips are meat. And my tongue is meat. Is that gonna be a problem?”

“No, no, totally not a problem,” the voice on the other side of the door growled. “Just let me in and everything will be fine.”

“Okay!”

“Meatwad, no!”

“That is it!” Shake exclaimed. “If you're not going to open the door, then I... hahhhSHOOOO!...am! I've had enough of this. Being a werewolf is, like, what? A minor inconvenience once a month? Big deal.” He hopped over to the door, shoved the chair out of the way, and let the door swing open. “Hello, yes, Mr. Or Miss Werewolf, I would like to become one of you, right freaking now, so make with the humping...hahhhhSHOOOO!”

“Ugh, dude, cover your mouth!”

The werewolf recoiled in disgust as it was hit by a shower of mucus from both Shake's nose area and straw, which made perfect sense, because that's extremely gross. What didn't make perfect sense was what happened next. The werewolf bent over, seemingly in pain...let out an agonized scream, which confirmed that it was in pain...doubled over and fell to the ground...and then...became a regular dude.

A naked regular dude.

“Whoa,” the naked dude said, looking at his hands. “You...you cured me. The werewolf curse is lifted. Thank you, kind drink cup. Thank you.”

Shake sniffled. “Yeah, well, don't forget, you owe me one now,” he grumbled. Then, to Frylock, who was staring at him with wide eyes and mouth agape, he spat. “What are you looking at?”

“Your...your sneeze cured Werewolfism. Do you realise what this means, Shake? We can save everyone. We can save all of New Jersey. Here comes another one. Quick, cure him too!”

“I can't exactly do it on demand,” Shake said. “Either I sneeze or I don't, I don't have any control over it.”

With the werewolf quickly advancing on them, they needed a sneeze from Shake, and quickly. But, how..? Thinking quickly, Frylock spotted a familiar yellow cluster of flowers growing beside the cabin, and fortunately the flowers were under shelter, safe from the rain and dry. He quickly gathered every last one of the flowers and rushed back to Shake, who was now facing down a menacing looking werewolf.

There was no time to lose. Frylock shoved a cluster of flowers into Shake's face.

“What the-” Shake sputtered. “What's the big idea? You know I'm horribly allergic to those stupid... hahhh ... hahhhSHOOOO! ... flowers.”

The werewolf in front of him got the same snot shower treatment as the previous werewolf, and just like the previous werewolf, contorted in pain, fell to the ground and resumed human form. Naked.

“Boobies!” Meatwad exclaimed.

“I'm...I'm cured,” the woman gasped. “Thank you.”

“If you really wadda thagk be...” Shake began, but she had already run off, disappearing into the woods before he could say something deeply and horrifyingly offensive.

“Shake...you truly have a gift,” Frylock said. “We need to get you back into the city, so you can cure everyone who's been afflicted with Werewolfism.”

“Or we could not do that, we could go home and I could get some medicine, some soup and a blanket.”

“Shake, this is your moral duty.”

“I choose not to subscribe to the concept of morality...so...good luck, I'm outta here.”

“Shake. I'm sorry. I didn't want to have to do this, but you forced my hand.”

Before Shake could even attempt to process what that meant, he'd been securely tied with a piece of gross soggy rope to a gross soggy board and loaded into the Danger Cart. He wriggled and struggled, but there was no way to free himself.

“We are going to cure this city of Werewolfism, whether you cooperate willingly or not,” Frylock said, waving a sprig of yellow flowers threateningly.

“hahhhSHOOOOO!”

“Ugh. Oh man, you did that on purpose,” Frylock complained, wiping the thick globs of Shake's fresh, warm snot from his face.

“Prove it,” Shake grumbled. Frylock glared at him, tempted to retaliate, but knowing that the fate Shake would soon suffer would be revenge enough.

****

“HahhhSHOOOO! Oh god...it hurts so much...” Shake sobbed. His eyes were red and swollen, tears streaming down his face both from the agony the flowers produced, and his pitiful crying, which had been going on for hours. His nostrils streamed, the entire middle of his face puffy and irritated, now coloured the glaring angry red of a stop sign. Mucus streamed down the entire length of his body, the product of countless uncovered sneezes. “HahhhSHOOOO! HahhhSHOOOO! Please...please stop...oh god...hahhhSHOOO! Oh it hurts. HahhhSHOOO!” Some more choked, strained sobs escaped his throat.

But there was to be no reprieve. Not yet. They had saved dozens of Werewolfism afflicted humans, through dozens of sneezes, but there were still so many more yet to save.

One more sprig of flowers was shoved into Shakes battered nose, and he gave an anguished cry as he felt the pollen immediately get to work. “No more...no more...hahhhSHOOOO! Please..I'm begging you...hahhSHOOOO! No more...hahhhSHOOOO! Oh, make it stop! HahhhSHOOOOO! Make it stop!” He gasped in a desperate attempt to catch his breath before the next round of torment started.

Even a passing werewolf took pity on him and scolded Frylock with a “Dude, what are you doing to that poor cup guy? That's seriously messed up, man.” right before he was hit by a well placed sneeze and reverted back to his human form.

“He's right,” Shake whimpered. “This is seriously...hahhhSHOOOO!...messed up. I'm gonna...hahhhSHOOOO!...end up with a sinus infection from this...hahhhSHOOOO!...I mean it...hahhhhSHOOOO!...I have delicate sinuses...hahhhSHOOOOO! And you know damn well I don't...hahhhSHOOOO!...have health insurance...”

“Don't worry,” Frylock soothed, just as he rammed another bunch of flowers into Shake's face. “Carl knows a guy who went to online med school for a whole entire semester.”

“Hey, whatever happened to Carl, anyway?” Meatwad mused.

******

“So...just so we're clear, I get fur all over if I turn?” Carl said. “It will not be affected by my, how shall we say, male pattern you-know-what?” He gestured to his mostly bald head.

“Yes,” the werewolf in front of him growled. “I am completely bald in my human form. And now look at me. Look at this gleaming, luxurious pelt.”

“And the monthly orgies are every month?”

“Every full moon. Now, the only catch is that you have to become vegan, but it's a small price to pay.”

“Wait. Vegan? No. No way, man. Screw that noise, I'm out.”

“Dude. Come on. I still need to meet my monthly quota of new recruits. My boss is gonna be super pissed at me if I don't. What if I told you that tofu bacon is practically sorta almost just like the real-”

“Hahhh....hahhhSHOOOO!”

And suddenly the werewolf was dropping to the ground, howling in pain.  And, suddenly again, the erstwhile werewolf, now naked man curled up in the grass at Carl's feet looked up in astonishment.

“Aw, man...dude...get your bare butt cheeks off my lawn. Freaking-” He looked up at the sight of a miserable, crying, allergy-swollen, snot covered Master Shake tied to a board in a wooden wagon, and shook his head. “You know what? Whatever you freaks are up to, I don't wanna know. Just get out of my damn yard before I call the cops.”

THE END

[webmeistro]

Hehehe OMG that was awesome!! And that's coming from someone who really can't get into ATHF. I mean the voice acting was great and the writing is funny, but I kinda need some framework, as in *why* a talking anthropomorphic shake exists. There might as well have been a sentient roll of toilet paper talking to a superintelligent shade of the color blue.

Still, hilarious story

Edited August 30, 2023 by webmeistro

[SleepingPhlox]

14 hours ago, webmeistro said:

Hehehe OMG that was awesome!! And that's coming from someone who really can't get into ATHF. I mean the voice acting was great and the writing is funny, but I kinda need some framework, as in *why* a talking anthropomorphic shake exists. There might as well have been a sentient roll of toilet paper talking to a superintelligent shade of the color blue.

Still, hilarious story

Thank you! I always appreciate it when someone reads even if they're not into the source material.

(I am really into absurd humour myself, give me something weird and just expect me to accept that it's normal in the context of the world you're showing me, and I'm happily entertained...if someone created toilet paper talking to the colour blue I'd be like "Hell yeah, this is my jam!" )