Title: Kilted Yaksmen
Author: Um, not ren. No, definitely not me...okay, it was me.
Pairing: J/SB
Disclaimer: Take them back, Kevin, I don't want them anymore.
Rating: RS. For Really Strange.
Notes: Ouch. Jay was in a mood. If you don't know Ren and Stimpy, you're gonna be so lost...
Summary: Paying homage to Ren and Stimpy.

Kilted Yaksmen

Six fifteen in the morning. It was too early to be out of bed, but they were. It was too early for any other activity than sleep, or, failing that, coffee. Yet somehow, Silent Bob found himself not only out of bed, but fully dressed and listening to Jay in the shower.

Which was, of course, the next best thing to watching Jay in the shower.

Today was a Very Special Day. Today, at exactly six thirty in the morning, would begin the First Annual Ren and Stimpy Marathon of Doom. Why it was the Marathon of Doom Bob wasn't quite sure, but he suspected that anyone insane enough to watch that many straight hours of the cartoon was Doomed to spend the rest of their days heavily medicated in a padded cell.

So be it, thought Silent Bob. He was a big fan of the cartoon, though not as big a fan as Jay, who had insisted they rise at this ungodly hour. Who before this day had never gotten up at six in the morning in his life. Ever. And hopefully, thought Bob with a shudder, he never would again.

For someone so fond of sleep, Jay was alarmingly cheerful at six a.m. Disturbingly cheerful, even, as if sleep deprivation - they hadn't actually made it home until two - had sent him temporarily insane. As if he had mistakenly dumped some experimental happy drug into his coffee instead of sugar. As if...Bob's speculations regarding Jay's sanity (or lack thereof) came to a sudden, surprised halt with the abrupt confirmation of his suspicions.

Jay was singing in the shower.

Too shocked to move, Bob stared at the bathroom door, wondering if early morning insanity was catching and he was hallucinating.

Nope, he decided after a moment. That cheerful warbling noise coming from the bathroom was definitely Jay. Or a clone. An evil clone designed by the government to confuse and seduce him into...into what, exactly? Truth be told, Bob's mind had stalled somewhere around the word 'seduce'.

Once the shock of Jay's behaviour had passed somewhat, some of the words to the song began filtering into Bob's brain. What the - something about yaks, and wearing women's clothing? The tune sounded familiar, though. Was that...couldn't be. God Save the Queen?

The caffeine kicked in, then, and Bob's brain finally made the connection. Ren and Stimpy, the tune, yaks...it was the anthem of the Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen! He wilted onto the sofa in relief. He wasn't insane. Jay wasn't insane. Well, he wasn't insane, anyway.

He jumped as the door to the bathroom slammed open; Jay stood framed in the doorway, hands braced on either side. He was dressed in boxers, his skin still glistening damply and flushed from the shower, and his eyes were fixed on Bob with a most unusual expression.

"Do I know you?" he asked, his voice dripping with paranoia.

Oh God, thought Bob. He really is insane.

"Does my wife know you?" Jay continued, stalking towards Bob, radiating menace.

His wife? Bob could only stare as Jay drew closer.

Jay was almost at the couch now, his lips drawn back in a snarl. "How do I know you're not from the FBI?"

Bob's mouth fell open in shock as Jay leaned so close he could have kissed him, if he only moved forward a few short inches...Jay smiled then, one eyebrow quirking as if in consideration.

"So..." he said, in so friendly a tone Bob blinked. "Nipples, huh?"

Just as Bob was beginning to consider going back to bed, his brain caught up to the rest of him. "No sir," he said calmly. "I don't like it."

Jay's smile grew into a grin. "That ain't what you said last night," he said smugly, then swatted him on the shoulder. "Move your ass over, Lunchbox. Cartoons are on, and as much as I love you, a man's gotta have priorities."

Glancing at Jay in profile, all little boy enthusiasm, Bob was forced to agree.

The end. Fweeeeee. Credits go to Ren and Stimpy for the Kilted Yaksmen song and the episode with the rubber nipples. Here be the words to the anthem, for the curious amongst you.

Our country reeks of trees
Our yaks are really large
And they smell like rotting sheep carcasses
And we have to clean up after them
And our saddle sores are the best
We proudly wear women's clothing
And searing sand blows up our skirts
And the buzzards they soar overhead
And poisonous snakes will devour us whole
Our bones will bleach in the sun
And we will probably go to hell
And that is our great reward
For being the Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen

And a thousand thousand slimy things lived on, and so did ren.

[Gratuitous editorial insert: If that doesn't tell you why I love this woman's writing, then there's no better way. Go on over to the archives of the Jay and Silent Bob slash list, search around, you'll find wonderful stuph there.]

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