Work Text:
"Toss a mail to your Strong Bad, oh Valley of Plenty," Strong Bad sang as he checked his email. "Give him some emails 'cause he's really cool!"
Dear Strong Bad,
My husband sprang an unwelcome surprise: he's inviting friends over for dinner tomorrow. I don't trust myself to make enough food in time and there's no way I'm ordering takeout, so I can only offer reheated leftovers. Advice?
Emilia Shannon
Phoenix, AZ
"Didn't know I was Dear Abby, My Shanonna," Strong Bad said as he typed. "Ask me for tips and you'll get caustic crap back. That said, I'm awesome enough to get you outta this jam. Here's some reheated leftovers of my own:
"Clump your junk into a bowl and smush it together and call it something dumb like 'Organic Gruel'. People eat garbage if you call it organic. It worked a treat on Marzipan!"
***
"Explain why I'm here, Strong Bad," a scowling Marzipan said. "Does this have anything to do with my answering machine?"
Strong Bad gestured at the plate on the table. "To test my creation."
"Dunno why you're hesitant, Marzipan." Homestar was already seated, his giraffe-like legs uncomfortably bent. "It's organic!"
"It's one of my radishes dipped in the Poopsmith's junk and topped with Fluffy Puffs!" Strong Bad knew she'd throw her hands if she had any. "It's an insult to food!"
He gave her a shit-eating grin. "But it's organic."
"C'mon," Homestar drawled while frowning. "Make the meanie happy!"
"Fine." She scoffingly sat and carved a chunk from the "organic" radish and ate it and didn't retch to be polite.
***
Strong Bad chuckled. "Still a classic! You could also try distracting 'em so they don't know they're eating crap. I bet most of his friends are men, which means they're gonna love sports. Have a watch party for something as big as the Big Game or niche as..." He waved his hands. "I dunno... the final stage of the Tour de Freaks. The lame-o stuff Strong Sad loves."
"I resent that remark!" Strong Sad called in his high-pitched voice.
No crap you do, Strong Bad thought. "Maybe you wanna make it, like, an art piece. If there's something people love as much as organic crap, it's crap made to prove a point..."
***
Strong Mad imposed his hulking body over his magnum opus. He was proud of it and he wanted Free Country to know.
"Hiya, Maderino!" Coach Z said as he walked up. "What's ya got for us today?"
"SMASH THE SYSTEM!" Strong Mad punched Coach Z with deafening force. "CAPITALISM SUCKS!"
"Dang good stuff," Coach Z croaked as he crumpled. He was bent in unusual ways, Strong Mad noticed. Perhaps this would be his next exhibit...
***
"One more makes four." Strong Bad hummingly gripped his chin. "Can't say no and you don't wanna order out... give 'em an IOU note, I guess? Tell 'em to come back for something bonkers later." He sighed. "See why I don't like giving advice? Whatever happens, I hope you make like your city and rise from the ashes. You're cool enough to not deserve such shabby treatment. If you'll excuse me, I have a date at an organic restaurant..."
He sent the email and got up and stretched his arms. "Lead me out, Paper!"
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