FicWad

Really on a roll with these Jellies fanfics I've been doing lately. With all the hype going on about Eltingville. I thought I'd make this one a crossover!



The battered station wagon, affectionately nicknamed "The Eltingville Club" by its occupants, coughed and sputtered its way into the unassuming town limits of Walla Walla, Washington. Inside, the Eltingville gang was a symphony of slacker discomfort. Jerry, the excitable front-seat passenger, had his nose pressed against the window, a manic glint in his eye.


"Walla Walla!" he declared, as if announcing the discovery of a lost civilization. "Behold, the promised land! The gateway to… possibly a mediocre comic con!"

Pete, crammed in the back between the lanky frame of Josh and the surprisingly solid form of Bill, grumbled. "Promised land? It looks like every other small town we've driven through for the last three days. Except maybe slightly more… beige." He adjusted his perpetually scowling face, trying to find a less lumpy part of the seat.

Josh, whose long legs seemed to have a gravitational pull towards everyone else's personal space, peered over Pete's shoulder. "Yeah, Jerry's enthusiasm-to-actual-cool-stuff ratio is usually way off. Remember that 'giant robot museum' in Ohio? Turned out to be a rusty washing machine with googly eyes."

Bill, surprisingly calm amidst the vehicular chaos, consulted a crumpled printout. "According to this highly unreliable internet forum, the 'Walla Walla Comic Jamboree' is being held at the mall. Said it was 'surprisingly well-attended last year.' Quote unquote."

"Surprisingly well-attended could mean, like, twelve people showed up," Pete muttered. "And three of them were the organizers' relatives."

Jerry, undeterred by his friends' cynicism, pointed excitedly at a sign that read "Welcome to Walla Walla: Sweet Onion Capital of the World." "Sweet onions! Guys, this place has character! Maybe there'll be a comic book about a superhero powered by sweet onions! Onion-Man! He fights crime with pungent breath and tear-inducing abilities!"

Bill snorted. "Somehow, I doubt that's a major title."

Their Station Wagon finally lurched into a parking spot outside a sprawling, somewhat generic-looking mall. The air was thick with the scent of exhaust fumes and distant fast food.

"Alright, troops," Jerry announced, flinging open his door with unnecessary force. "Operation: Find the Fandom commences! Let's see if this Walla Walla can deliver the glorious geekdom we so richly deserve!"

Pete unfolded himself from the backseat with a groan. "Just promise me one thing, Jerry. If this comic con turns out to be a bust, we are not visiting any 'World's Largest Ball of Twine' on the way home."\

Josh stretched his long arms, nearly knocking over a nearby shopping cart. "Yeah, and if there's a 'Sweet Onion-Themed Cosplay Contest,' I'm staying in the car."

Bill simply sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Let's just go inside and see what the damage is. Maybe, just maybe, this won't be a complete waste of gas and questionable roadside diner food."

As the four friends trudged towards the mall entrance, their hopes for a decent comic con hanging precariously in the balance, little did they know that their trip to Walla Walla was about to take a decidedly bizarre and robot-filled turn.


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The humid Walla Walla air hung thick as the Jellyfish family – Barry, Debbie, KY, and their adopted son Cornell – ambled through the bustling Walla Walla Mall. Today's adventure: History World, the mall's newest and most talked-about attraction. Gleaming chrome robots in period costumes bustled about, offering historical tidbits with uncanny realism.
"Ooh, Medieval World!" Debbie exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Imagine, Barry, jousting knights and ladies-in-waiting! It'll be like Camelot, but with less singing and probably more…robotics."

Barry nodding and agreeing, "Sounds…historical, Deb. As long as they have turkey legs the size of my head, I'm in."

KY, perpetually glued to her phone, barely looked up. "Whatever. As long as there's decent Wi-Fi in the Dark Ages."

Cornell, however, was already tugging on Barry’s arm, his gaze fixed on a saloon facade with swinging doors. "Dad, Dad, we have to check out West World! Cowboys, six-shooters…it's gonna be epic!" A wistful look crossed his face. "Though, it won't be the same without RG and Reggie."

"Alright, damn dawg," Barry chuckled. "Go have your rootin'-tootin' time. Just don't get into any High Noon situations."

Cornell grinned half-heartedly and dashed towards West World, the swinging doors whooshing behind him. Inside, robotic cowboys tipped their hats, and saloon music played a tinny tune. It was…cool, but a hollow kind of cool. He missed RG's encyclopedic knowledge of obscure sci-fi and Reggie's knack for finding trouble. It felt a bit like The Magnificent Seven without the seven.


"If only RG and Reggie were around." Cornell bemoans to himself.


Suddenly, he bumped into a quartet of familiar-looking figures huddled over a crumpled map.

"Watch it, ya… uh… tenderfoot!" one of them, a stout kid with thick glasses, grumbled.

Cornell blinked. "Bill? Josh? Pete? Jerry? I know who you guys are! The Eltingville Club! I collect your comics! What are you guys doing in Walla Walla?"

Bill Dickey, the stout one, adjusted his glasses. "Cornell? Holy shit! The one who keeps sending us that fan mail? What are you doing here? We're on a pilgrimage. Apparently, there's supposed to be some podunk comic con happening around here. The intel was…questionable."

"I can't believe I'm meeting y'all! It's like a dream come true! I'm your number one fan!" Cornell shouts in excitment!

Josh Levy, tall and lanky, chimed in, "Yeah, it's less San Diego Comic-Con and more… Ernest Goes to Camp with folding tables."

Pete DiNunzio, sporting his signature scowl, added, "And the gas station sushi around here is an abomination. It's like they've never even seen Jiro Dreams of Sushi."

Jerry Strokes, bounced on the balls of his feet. "But hey, West World! This looks awesome! Like Westworld… but probably way less murdery. Right?"

A grin spread across Cornell's face. "Guys! This is amazing! You gotta check this place out. It's like stepping right into A Fistful of Dollars!"


And just like that, Cornell's West World blues vanished. He had his own posse now. The five of them tore through the robotic frontier town. They challenged robot cowboys to quick-draw contests (which they mostly lost, hilariously), tried to decipher the robotic saloon girls' programmed flirtations, and generally caused a low-grade ruckus that would have made the real Wild West blush.


Cornell tells the Eltingville club, "You're all just like how you are in the comics!"

Don't forget that pilot we were on that never became a series." Josh noted.

"Yee-haw!" Jerry yelled, attempting a clumsy lasso throw that ended with the rope ensnaring a bewildered robot blacksmith. "This is better than any comic con! It's like we're living in a Sergio Leone movie!"

"Just try not to start a Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid style bank robbery," Pete grumbled, though a small smile played on his lips as he watched a robot tumbleweed roll by

Their antics, however, didn't go unnoticed. A hulking robot sheriff with a menacing metallic glare and a badge that read "LawBot 5000" stomped out of the sheriff's office.

"Hold it right there, varmints!" the sheriff boomed, his voice a synthesized growl. "You're disturbin' the peace! This ain't no Blazing Saddles! You're gonna respect the law in my town!"

Cornell gulped. "Uh oh. Looks like we've angered the local RoboCop."


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The initial adrenaline of their escape subsided as Cornell, Bill, Josh, Pete, and Jerry found refuge in the dimly lit interior of the West World saloon. Robotic barmaids with vacant smiles polished glasses with tireless efficiency. The air smelled faintly of oil and stale programming.

"Man," Jerry sighed, sliding onto a faux-leather stool. "That was intense! I felt like Steve McQueen in The Getaway for a second there."

Pete grumbled, accepting a glass of something that tasted vaguely of root beer and metal. "Yeah, well, I prefer my getaways to involve less chance of being vaporized by a robot sheriff. This whole experience is giving me Futureworld vibes, and not in a good way."

Bill, still slightly flustered but basking in the afterglow of his accidental heroism, perched beside Cornell. "At least we got away. That oil can was my MacGuffin."

Josh nervously eyed the saloon doors. "Think he'll come after us? That thing looked pretty determined. Like the relentless killer in a slasher flick, only, you know, made of metal."

Cornell tried to appear nonchalant, leaning against the bar. "Nah, he probably just short-circuited. Besides," he gestured to the robotic barmaid who had just silently refilled his drink, "we're blending in. Just a few guys enjoying a… metallic beverage."

They spent a few minutes in relative quiet, watching the other robotic patrons go through their programmed motions. Jerry even attempted a conversation with a barmaid, asking her opinion on the merits of different comic book publishers, receiving only a blank stare and a pre-recorded phrase about the price of virtual whiskey.

Suddenly, the saloon doors swung open with a dramatic creak, and the imposing figure of LawBot 5000 filled the entrance. Its metallic optics scanned the room, locking onto the five boys huddled at the bar.

"Well, well, well," the robot sheriff's synthesized voice boomed, echoing through the saloon. "Look what the cat dragged in. A bunch if shitheads! That's what! Thought you could hide from the long arm of the law, did ya?" It stomped closer, its metallic footsteps heavy on the wooden floor.

"Oh hell no! Oh fucking hell no! I don't want to die in front of my idols" Cornell shook in fear.

The robotic barmaids continued their tasks, seemingly oblivious to the impending confrontation. The other robotic patrons also remained in their programmed loops, creating an eerie tableau of normalcy amidst the tension.

LawBot 5000 stopped directly in front of Jerry, Pete, Bill, Josh, and Cornell, its shadow looming over them. "So," it continued, its voice dripping with robotic disdain, "I see you've retreated to the watering hole. Nursing your… fucking nonexistent wounds."

It focused its gaze on Jerry, who nervously fiddled with his empty glass. "You boys ran like scared rabbits. All that yellin' and hollerin', and when the going gets tough, you hide behind the skirts of these… beverage dispensers."

Then, its attention shifted to Pete, who was trying to look tough but whose eyes darted nervously towards the exit. "You with the permanent scowl. You looked like you were ready for a showdown, a real Unforgiven type. But when push came to shove? Nothing but whimpering."

Next, it addressed Bill, who still held a faint air of bewildered triumph. "And you," the LawBot sneered, "the one who got lucky with the oil can. Think that makes you a hero? A regular Shane? Please. It was pure, dumb luck."

Finally, it turned its gaze to Josh, who was trying to shrink into his stool. "And you, son. You look like you've seen a ghost. Or maybe just a slightly inconvenienced law enforcement bot. Either way, not exactly True Grit, are ya?"

Then, LawBot 5000 delivered the ultimate robotic insult. "Frankly, the lot of ya are pathetic. You run at the first sign of trouble. You cower in corners. You're nothing but a bunch of… wimps! You know what? You need bibs. Big, fluffy bibs to catch all your tears."


Cornell protested, "Bibs! Oh hell no!"
Jerry’s jaw dropped. "Bibs? Did this robot just call us wimps and say we need bibs?"

Pete’s scowl deepened. "Oh, he did not just say that. This is going beyond The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. This is just plain insulting."

Bill, despite his earlier fear, felt a surge of indignation. "Hey! We were just… surprised! And I didn't cower! I… strategically retreated!"

Josh, emboldened by the sheer audacity of the robotic insult, piped up, "Yeah! And we were having fun! You're the one who came in here acting all… Law & Order: Special Victims Unit on us!"

Cornell, feeling a sense of camaraderie with his new friends, stood up straighter. "We weren't hurting anyone! We were just enjoying West World! You're the one acting like a… a malfunctioning Roomba with a bad attitude!"

LawBot 5000 simply tilted its metallic head, its glowing red eyes fixed on them. "Wimps. Bibs. Don't forget it." With a final, disdainful glare, it turned and lumbered back towards the saloon doors, leaving a stunned and slightly humiliated group of boys in its wake. The robotic barmaids continued polishing glasses, and the saloon music played on, but the atmosphere had definitely shifted from adventurous to… deeply embarrassing.


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"Run!" Bill yelled, and the five of them took off like a herd of startled cattle, robot spurs clanking behind them. They weaved through the dusty streets, dodging robotic townsfolk who stared at them with vacant, programmed eyes.

They ducked behind a robotic stable, panting. "He's… he's relentless!" Josh gasped, peeking out. "It's like The Terminator, but with a Stetson!"

Just when they thought they'd lost him, the LawBot 5000 rounded the corner, its metallic boots thudding on the wooden planks. It raised its robotic arm, a laser pistol whirring to life.

"This is it!" Cornell cried. "It's the Wild Bunch all over again! This is such bullshit!"

But before the LawBot could fire, Bill Dickey, in a moment of unexpected heroism, tripped over a discarded oil can. The can skittered under the robot sheriff's feet, sending the multi-ton automaton crashing to the ground with a metallic clang. Sparks flew, and its laser pistol clattered harmlessly away.

Silence descended upon the dusty street. The five boys stared at the downed robot sheriff, then at Bill, who looked as surprised as anyone.

"Well," Bill said, adjusting his glasses, "guess he didn't see that coming. Talk about a There Will Be Blood situation… for him, anyway."

Jerry whooped. "Bill, you magnificent bastard! You saved us! That was like something out of A Few Dollars More!"

Cornell clapped Bill on the back. "You were amazing, Bill! You totally Unforgiven-ed that robot!"

As the other History World robots began to cautiously approach the deactivated sheriff, the Eltingville gang and Cornell exchanged triumphant grins. Maybe Walla Walla wasn't so bad after all. And maybe, just maybe, this unexpected Western adventure was even better than any comic con.

Inside Medieval World, Barry, Debbie, and KY were having a decidedly less chaotic experience. Barry, sporting a comically oversized foam helmet, was attempting to win a prize at a "Ring Toss the Dragon's Horn" booth, much to Debbie's amusement.

"Come on, Barry, you can do it!" she cheered, stifling a giggle as his ring bounced harmlessly off the animatronic dragon's snout for the tenth time. "Just a little more… Excalibur with that wrist action!"

KY, meanwhile, was surprisingly engaged, having discovered a robot bard that played surprisingly decent medieval-themed chiptune music. He was even tapping his foot, a rare display of enthusiasm. "Yo, this robot's got some sick beats," he mumbled, not looking up from his phone, which was now displaying the bard's setlist.

"See, Barry?" Debbie said, nudging her husband. "History can be fun! Though, I haven't seen any turkey legs the size of your head yet."

Just as Barry finally managed to loop a ring around a horn, earning him a small, plush trebuchet, Debbie spotted a familiar mop of red hair through the archway leading back to the mall's main concourse.

"Hey, isn't that Cornell?" she said, pointing.

Barry squinted, still slightly disoriented from his joust with the ring toss. "Looks like him. And… are those the Eltingville kids?"

Indeed, Cornell, Bill, Josh, Pete, and Jerry were standing near the entrance to West World, looking slightly dusty but otherwise intact. They seemed to be in the middle of an animated discussion, punctuated by Jerry making exaggerated cowboy gestures.

"Cornell!" Debbie called out, waving.

Cornell turned, a wide grin spreading across his face as he saw his family. "Hey, Mom! Dad! KY! You guys check out the knights and stuff?"

"We did!" Debbie replied, walking over with Barry and a still-grooving KY. "It was… historically accurate-ish. What were you doing?" She eyed the slightly disheveled state of the Eltingville gang.

"Just having a little… adventure in the Wild West," Cornell said, exchanging knowing glances with Bill and Jerry. "Met up with some… friends."

"Friends who apparently survived a robot uprising," Barry muttered, noticing a few faint scorch marks on Bill's t-shirt.

Bill chuckled sheepishly. "It was… a learning experience."

Josh stepped forward. "Yeah, we were just about to head out. Our… comic con intel seems to have been wildly inaccurate."

Pete nodded in agreement. "This town's got more malfunctioning robots than decent pizza places."

Jerry, being an optimist, grinned. "But hey, at least we got to live out a little bit of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly! Sort of."

The Jellyfish family and the Eltingville gang stood for a moment, an unlikely alliance forged in the bizarre landscape of History World.

"Well," Debbie said warmly, "it was nice meeting you all. Maybe we'll see you around… at a less robotic historical reenactment?"

"Yeah, you too!" Josh replied. "Maybe next time we'll actually find that comic con."

Bill shook Cornell's hand. "Later, Cornell. Don't go causing too much trouble without us."

"You know I can't make any promises," Cornell grinned back.

Pete offered a rare, almost-smile. "Try to stay out of trouble, Jellyfish kid."

"And you guys try to find some decent comic books that aren't printed on papyrus," KY added, finally looking up from his phone.

Jerry gave Cornell a final, enthusiastic high-five. "Keep it wild, West World wanderer!"

With a chorus of "see ya"s and "bye"s, the Eltingville gang headed towards the mall exit, their quest for comics continuing elsewhere. The Jellyfish family watched them go, a strange mix of amusement and relief on their faces.

"Well," Barry said, slinging his plush trebuchet over his shoulder, "that was… unexpected. Glad you made some friends, Cornell."

"Yeah," Cornell said, a small smile lingering. "Me too. Sure was fun to hang around my idols Who says never meet your heroes!." Then Cornell began to be haunted by LawMan5000 calling him and the Eltingville club wimps.


"Sadly, we were called wimps who needed bibs by a mean cowboy sheriff robot." Cornell confessed.


Debbie ruffled his hair. "Don't worry about it, sweetie. They probably just needed bibs themselves."

As the Jellyfish family turned to leave History World, ready for their own non-robotic adventures in Walla Walla, Cornell glanced back at the West World entrance one last time. He had a feeling this wouldn't be the last bizarre encounter in his life. After all, he was an adopted son of Jellyfish. And life was always a little… unscripted.