Hi. Well, it took us a few weeks (or months, if you wanna be all mean and make us feel guilty), but we got our life back. It came from a nice job we did over-seas, and over-websites (to FanFiction, to be precise). We were paid a big fatso-paycheck, hired a crew, and got back on our feet with a grin so huge . . . that . . . uh. Ah, I'll hire writers to think of something later.

We now go to a—not a village—but a castle! We now step inside—through the window—into a large dining room, where a bunch of people are.

These people are the royals—the King Boss-Man and Queen Mistress, their royal guards (Guard One, Guard Two, Guard Three, Guard Four, and Pablo), the royal scroll-keeper Charles (Mrs.), the royal advisor Chuck, and Princess The-Only-Real-Normal-Name-In-Here-Because-She's-Th e-Main-Character Belle.

King Boss-Man threw down his hand on the table. "No! It's cruel and unusual punishment!"

The royal advisor flinched. "But Your Highness! We must go through with it!"

"I refuse to allow it! No!"

Queen Mistress placed a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder. "My Husband—we must. For our subjects, we must."

His face retired from fury to defeat. "But it's—"

"We know, Father. We know." Belle placed a hand on her father's shoulder as well. "But we must. Even if it is the most commonly told plotline in TV history, we must go through with our story. It's the only way we can stay in power here and keep this thing going."

King Boss-Man sighed. "Fine. Do whatever you please. But Belle—please leave us so we can discuss it without any more opinions."

She got up, "Yes Father. I understand."

As soon as the door shut, King Boss-Man said, "I say we sell her to the highest bidder, starting at five-hundred-thousand, then hire a new princess to take her place, so long as she doesn't speak in public and is willing to get me a Bear-Burger from McDonalds fourteen times a week."

Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement.

"Wait," said Guard Four, "Why can't we get any Bear-Burgers?"

Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement.

"Alright, we get Bear-Burgers for everyone in this room as well."

Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement.

The buyer turned out to be a very hairy man, surrounded by a clock, some dishes, a tea set, and a French candle holder. They all talked—but, you know, it was normal for this place.

The hairy man's name was Beast. James Beast, Agent 009, but many people called him Mr. Beast, so.

He currently had a robe and Phantom of the Opera mask on, so Belle didn't realize what was happening when the furniture and dish sets bagged her and threw her body in the back of their van.

As a matter of fact, she only realized something was wrong when she saw the giant posters of One Direction lined along the walls.

"Welcome," Mr. Beast said, "to my humble abode."

She took a couple of steps forward, taking in the many posters. "Y-you mean I'm gonna live here?"

"Yep. And we'll live together in harmony forever, listening to *One Direction and Blood On The Dance Floor until the end of time."

Belle gasped at this, just moments before a FLU-U-U-U-R-RG echoed throughout the room.

Mr. Beast threw back his head in disgust, waving his hand in front of his face. "Oh c'mon!"

"I-I'm sorry," She looked down, crossing her arms. "I couldn't help it."

"Show some dignity! Oh—!" He took a couple of steps back. The smell just hit him. "Somebody open the windows! And doors!"

"I'm sorry, I just had a big lunch, you scared me, and . . ."

"That sounded wet!"

"It didn't feel all that wet . . ."

"And for Christ's sake, it reeks!"

"Well . . ."

"No. You know what?" He threw up his hands, coming over to the crew and camera men. "I'll be in my trailer until she's shut her rear window—and has control over her bladder!"

Hey, whoa, wait a second there—we can't just stop in the middle of a story!

"Too bad," He left, slamming the door behind him.

Hey! You can't just quit in the middle of our story! We haven't even parodied any songs yet! Get your butt back here!


No pun intended! Wait! Come back! We'll open a window!

. . . Well there goes my life. Okay guys, pack up! Here Roy, take the mike. We'll wait for him to calm down some, and then film scene two tomorrow.

And for our sakes, somebody open a frigging window!

And we're back! I was going to ask for requests, but I recently found a big list of stuff. Feel free to add onto that list!

*-I tend to make fun of these popular bands, just because I can.