Categories > Cartoons > Biker Mice from Mars > Red Planet - Part Two: O Martian, Where Art Thou?
Episode Four: Oh George, Not the Live Stock!
It seemed that luck just wasn't with our young friends. The day found them once more staggering down side alleys in the heat of the day, wandering aimlessly without any relief in sight.
"You know what I hate...?" Vinnie panted as he trudged along side his friends.
"What?" Modo breathed, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
"When you think you're actually getting somewhere, and then you realize you're not." he grumbled.
"Aw, come on, Vincent, there's no use crying over spilled milk...we'll get there...sooner or later." Throttle tried to assure his little bro. But it was hard to be reassuring when you're tired, hot, and hungry.
"Sooner or later...PHAW! I'm tired of sleeping in the woods and in hay stacks! I'm tired of stealing food...no wait, that's fun.... But you know what I mean!" Vinnie gasped in exasperation.
"Oh put a sock in it, bro." Modo sighed, grabbing him and giving him a nuggy.
Just then they heard a faint, distant rumbling from behind them. The three teens stopped, their ears perked up, listening intently.
"Thunder?" Modo asked.
"No, the air's too dry. A motorcycle, maybe?" Throttle mused.
"Naw, you're both wrong! Give me a leg-up, Modo." Vinnie said. Modo bent down slightly and cupped his hands and Vinnie scrambled up onto his shoulders, shielding his eyes from the sun, staring into the distance.
"Seesh, hurry up, Vin! Ya ain't as light as you look!" Modo groaned.
"Shh! I need to listen!" Vinnie hissed at him.
They stood in silence, listening, watching the horizon, ears and tails perked.
"It's a car...and it's coming fast!" Vinnie called.
At this moment Modo promptly dropped the young mouse, allowing him to land flat on his back in the dust as Throttle rushed towards the approaching car.
"This is just what we need! Maybe they'll give us a ride!" He said.
"Yeah, back to the prison camp." Modo said apprehensively, dragging his friends off to the side of the road.
As the car approached they saw that it was not a Plutarkian, or a Rat, or even a Dog, but rather a very strangely dressed Mouse, who was driving at top speed with his window's down, and something flying out of them that looked like scraps of paper.
The car slowed as it neared them, and they gaped at it in fascination. The driver was all smiles at the sight of the boys, grinning from one gigantic ear to the other, his round face wrinkling.
"You boys need a lift?" he asked cheerfully.
"Sure do!" Vinnie gasped, grinning broadly.
"Now bros, as my old grey-furred mama used to say, never take rides from strangers, even if they do have wads of money flying out of their car..." Modo's voice trailed off as h e caught a large bill in his hand.
"And is being chased by Plutarkian patrolmen! Get in the car!!" Throttle cried suddenly as the trio dove into the back seat of the car, slamming the door, for indeed a Plutarkian tank was barreling down the road right towards them.
"You made the right decision, boys!" said the man happily, slamming his foot onto the gas pedal and peeling off down the road, doing well over 150.
The bros found themselves between huge bags of money, stolen quiet obviously, which had been the "scraps of paper" they had seen earlier.
"Bros, this guy is a criminal!" Vinnie hissed.
"Well Vincent, technically so are we." Throttle pointed out as they jostled around in the back seat.
"Oh yeah. Cool!" Vinnie howled.
"Boy's demented." Modo groaned as he tried to keep wads of money from flying up in his face.
"Uh, mister, you umm...lost this?" He said timidly handing the man a wad of 1000 dollar bills.
"Aw, that's okay son, you can keep it!" laughed the man. He leaned over the seat, extending his hand to them. "Name's George Nelson." he said brightly.
"Uh, nice to meet you, George. I'm Modo, this is Throttle and Vinnie." replied the grey-furred mouse.
"Mighty nice to meet you boys. Runaways I take it? You seem a little young to be wandering about on your own. Never know what kind of maniacs might be running around! Ha ha ha!" he bellowed.
The bros looked nervously at each other.
"Well, uh...sir, you see, we're kinda running away from a prison camp, so um...we'd appreciate it if we could keep a low profile, you know?" Throttle asked.
"I gotcha boys, don't worry." Said George winking at them. "Hey, squirt, would you mind taking the wheel for a minute?" he asked then.
Throttle stared in shock as the man threw open his car door and leaned out, glaring back at the tank pursuing them.
Throttle threw himself over the back seat and grabbed the wheel.
"Hand me that there gun, will ya son?" asked George, motioning to Vinnie to the floor as a volley of lazors came shooting at the car.
"Uh, George, remember what I said about the whole 'low profile' thing? Well, this isn't it!" Throttle shouted , ducking his head as lazor shattered the windshield of the car.
"Shut up and drive son, that's a good boy." George said as he continued exchanging fire with their enemies.
Suddenly the big mouse turned and looked to the field off to his right. There was a heard of cows, grazing peacefully. A malicious gleam came into George's eyes.
"Cows. I hate cows. Move over, son!" he cried, swinging back into the car and kicking Throttle into the passenger seat and turning them sharply around, plowing through the fence.
"Oh George! Not the livestock!" Modo shouted as they plowed over several of them,
"I think I'm gonna be sick..." Throttle muttered as guts splattered the front of the car.
*
After a few miles they reached a safe spot in the woods where they bedded down for the night.
"You know, George, I can see where a guy could get a real kick outta robbing banks and what-not!" Vinnie said, eating his soup.
Throttle slammed his head into the bowl to make him think otherwise.
"Oh...it's okay boys." George sighed. Ever since they had escaped the tank, he had been very subdued.
"You okay, George?" Modo asked, looking at him carefully.
George grinned weakly at him. "Oh, I'm alright, son. Don't you worry your pretty little heads about it." he said getting up and patting Modo's head.
"Well, I'm outta here. See you later, kids."
"But...what about all your money?" Modo sputtered.
"Oh, that. You kids can have it. I've got no real use for it." He shrugged, then turned and headed off through the woods.
"Does he realize he just left us over a couple thousand dollars?" Vinnie gasped.
"Is he on drugs?" Modo mused.
"Well, bros, I guess George's unstable personality just caught up with him. On top of the world one moment, the next in black depression. But I wouldn't worry too much about it either way." Throttle shrugged. He looked after the strange mouse in the shadow of the woods.
It seemed that luck just wasn't with our young friends. The day found them once more staggering down side alleys in the heat of the day, wandering aimlessly without any relief in sight.
"You know what I hate...?" Vinnie panted as he trudged along side his friends.
"What?" Modo breathed, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
"When you think you're actually getting somewhere, and then you realize you're not." he grumbled.
"Aw, come on, Vincent, there's no use crying over spilled milk...we'll get there...sooner or later." Throttle tried to assure his little bro. But it was hard to be reassuring when you're tired, hot, and hungry.
"Sooner or later...PHAW! I'm tired of sleeping in the woods and in hay stacks! I'm tired of stealing food...no wait, that's fun.... But you know what I mean!" Vinnie gasped in exasperation.
"Oh put a sock in it, bro." Modo sighed, grabbing him and giving him a nuggy.
Just then they heard a faint, distant rumbling from behind them. The three teens stopped, their ears perked up, listening intently.
"Thunder?" Modo asked.
"No, the air's too dry. A motorcycle, maybe?" Throttle mused.
"Naw, you're both wrong! Give me a leg-up, Modo." Vinnie said. Modo bent down slightly and cupped his hands and Vinnie scrambled up onto his shoulders, shielding his eyes from the sun, staring into the distance.
"Seesh, hurry up, Vin! Ya ain't as light as you look!" Modo groaned.
"Shh! I need to listen!" Vinnie hissed at him.
They stood in silence, listening, watching the horizon, ears and tails perked.
"It's a car...and it's coming fast!" Vinnie called.
At this moment Modo promptly dropped the young mouse, allowing him to land flat on his back in the dust as Throttle rushed towards the approaching car.
"This is just what we need! Maybe they'll give us a ride!" He said.
"Yeah, back to the prison camp." Modo said apprehensively, dragging his friends off to the side of the road.
As the car approached they saw that it was not a Plutarkian, or a Rat, or even a Dog, but rather a very strangely dressed Mouse, who was driving at top speed with his window's down, and something flying out of them that looked like scraps of paper.
The car slowed as it neared them, and they gaped at it in fascination. The driver was all smiles at the sight of the boys, grinning from one gigantic ear to the other, his round face wrinkling.
"You boys need a lift?" he asked cheerfully.
"Sure do!" Vinnie gasped, grinning broadly.
"Now bros, as my old grey-furred mama used to say, never take rides from strangers, even if they do have wads of money flying out of their car..." Modo's voice trailed off as h e caught a large bill in his hand.
"And is being chased by Plutarkian patrolmen! Get in the car!!" Throttle cried suddenly as the trio dove into the back seat of the car, slamming the door, for indeed a Plutarkian tank was barreling down the road right towards them.
"You made the right decision, boys!" said the man happily, slamming his foot onto the gas pedal and peeling off down the road, doing well over 150.
The bros found themselves between huge bags of money, stolen quiet obviously, which had been the "scraps of paper" they had seen earlier.
"Bros, this guy is a criminal!" Vinnie hissed.
"Well Vincent, technically so are we." Throttle pointed out as they jostled around in the back seat.
"Oh yeah. Cool!" Vinnie howled.
"Boy's demented." Modo groaned as he tried to keep wads of money from flying up in his face.
"Uh, mister, you umm...lost this?" He said timidly handing the man a wad of 1000 dollar bills.
"Aw, that's okay son, you can keep it!" laughed the man. He leaned over the seat, extending his hand to them. "Name's George Nelson." he said brightly.
"Uh, nice to meet you, George. I'm Modo, this is Throttle and Vinnie." replied the grey-furred mouse.
"Mighty nice to meet you boys. Runaways I take it? You seem a little young to be wandering about on your own. Never know what kind of maniacs might be running around! Ha ha ha!" he bellowed.
The bros looked nervously at each other.
"Well, uh...sir, you see, we're kinda running away from a prison camp, so um...we'd appreciate it if we could keep a low profile, you know?" Throttle asked.
"I gotcha boys, don't worry." Said George winking at them. "Hey, squirt, would you mind taking the wheel for a minute?" he asked then.
Throttle stared in shock as the man threw open his car door and leaned out, glaring back at the tank pursuing them.
Throttle threw himself over the back seat and grabbed the wheel.
"Hand me that there gun, will ya son?" asked George, motioning to Vinnie to the floor as a volley of lazors came shooting at the car.
"Uh, George, remember what I said about the whole 'low profile' thing? Well, this isn't it!" Throttle shouted , ducking his head as lazor shattered the windshield of the car.
"Shut up and drive son, that's a good boy." George said as he continued exchanging fire with their enemies.
Suddenly the big mouse turned and looked to the field off to his right. There was a heard of cows, grazing peacefully. A malicious gleam came into George's eyes.
"Cows. I hate cows. Move over, son!" he cried, swinging back into the car and kicking Throttle into the passenger seat and turning them sharply around, plowing through the fence.
"Oh George! Not the livestock!" Modo shouted as they plowed over several of them,
"I think I'm gonna be sick..." Throttle muttered as guts splattered the front of the car.
*
After a few miles they reached a safe spot in the woods where they bedded down for the night.
"You know, George, I can see where a guy could get a real kick outta robbing banks and what-not!" Vinnie said, eating his soup.
Throttle slammed his head into the bowl to make him think otherwise.
"Oh...it's okay boys." George sighed. Ever since they had escaped the tank, he had been very subdued.
"You okay, George?" Modo asked, looking at him carefully.
George grinned weakly at him. "Oh, I'm alright, son. Don't you worry your pretty little heads about it." he said getting up and patting Modo's head.
"Well, I'm outta here. See you later, kids."
"But...what about all your money?" Modo sputtered.
"Oh, that. You kids can have it. I've got no real use for it." He shrugged, then turned and headed off through the woods.
"Does he realize he just left us over a couple thousand dollars?" Vinnie gasped.
"Is he on drugs?" Modo mused.
"Well, bros, I guess George's unstable personality just caught up with him. On top of the world one moment, the next in black depression. But I wouldn't worry too much about it either way." Throttle shrugged. He looked after the strange mouse in the shadow of the woods.
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