The Time Before Time - New gut-busting Bionicle parody!


In the time before time, the world was tasteless and without colour. Then the Great One known as Marshy Mallow descended from the heavens, bringing light and sweet things. He created we, the Matoran, so that we may prosper in this new age and not waste that which has reached its expiry date. At first we were separate, without purpose, so Marshy Mallow bestowed upon us the Three Flavours: Sour, Salty and Sweet.

He gave us a home on the floating city of Metru Nui. Six districts were built, each home to Matoran of one of the six elements. Ta-Metru was home to those of Fruit, people of my kind whose tongues could withstand the most sour of unripe apricots. In Ga-Metru, rivers of Soda carried our favourite fizzy drinks and fed the bubbly lakes beyond. In Po-Metru, great fields were filled with Chocolate sculptures and mountains of fudge. Le-Metru was a green place of the element Mint, its residents having the freshest breath in the land. Onu-Metru was a maze of tunnels eaten into the Cookie basement of the city. Finally there was Ko-Metru and its magnificent, glittering peaks of Ice-Cream.

But our happiness was not to last. A shadow began to creep over Metru Nui, something our beloved Toa warriors could not halt. There would come a day when Marshy Mallow himself would fall, plunging our world back into darkness. The story of how this happened is not one of doom, but of hope. It’s a story of how heroes are born and how the Three Flavours together can be mightier than even the sharpest spork.

This is that story.


Jeeve-Ahn was no ordinary Toa. While most Toa wore shiny armour and masks, he had abandoned these in favour of a tailored suit and monocle. He used his elemental powers of Fruit only in strict emergencies. Everybody in Metru Nui knew and cherished him. Matoran workers appraised him as he passed by in the streets. But his popularity wasn’t due to him being a Toa; it was because he was the only Toa they had left.

He served as valet to Turaga Nom, the almighty President of Metru Nui. Nom made sure the city’s heart kept beating, while Jeeve-Ahn did his housework and ran errands for Matoran from all the six districts. In previous years, there had been full-time Toa protecting their vast food stores, but after a suspicious number of mysterious disappearances, they were all gone.

Even with the remaining duo on top of things, it wasn’t getting any better. Chocolate and ice-cream towers were melting in Po- and Ko-Metru respectively, breath mints were running out in Le-Metru, cookies crumbled in Onu-Metru and the soda streams of Ga-Metru were running flat. Worst of all, a dangerous and foul-tasting tomato plant had sprouted in Ta-Metru and was causing the fruit stores to over-ripen. Matoran morale remained high for the moment, but something had to be done.

That’s why ‘Jeevie’ had done something – without telling the Turaga. He had stolen six gummi bears from the Temple of the Great Marshmallow. These weren’t any ordinary delicious lollies. Each one was infused with some of the Toa’s energy and each was a different colour. He intended to deliver each one to a Matoran from a different district.

With his immaculate outfit, he had little to mark him out as a Toa. One clue was his extreme height of almost nine inches. Jeeve-Ahn towered above everybody else. The other giveaway was his hoverboard, the one piece of Toa tech he had kept. Originally the board was a pair of special swords. They were permanently glued together during an outbreak of zombie PopTarts, rendered inseparable but able to fly.

In this manner, surfing through the sky above Ga-Metru, he approached the high school where Noca-Cola worked. This district was a place of learning and of passing on knowledge. A little stream of fizzy lemonade passed through the centre of the building. Jeeve-Ahn could see a pressure valve just upstream from it; this valve shut off the stream every lunch hour to stop students being hyper in afternoon classes. In the other districts, sugar highs weren’t so easy to control.

After landing, the rogue valet concealed his hoverboard behind some empty Pepsi bottles, made sure all his ■■■■■ buttons were done up, then marched into the nearest classroom. Noca-Cola (or Noka to her friends) taught in this room five days a week, forty weeks of the year. His rich knowledge of Facebook had allowed Jeevie to ascertain all this. He’d also found that Noka had a fondness for vanilla yoghurt, a pottle of which he held up on his silver serving tray as he entered.

“…and as you should recall, the number pi is the ratio of a pie’s circumference to how delicious it is. The best pies therefore have the lowest value of pi,” Noka was telling her class. She sniffed and turned toward Jeevie. “Oh my Great Mallowpuff, it’s vanilla yoghurt!”

With surprising agility (for a Ga-Matoran), she vaulted over the desk and snatched the yoghurt from Jeevie’s tray. Not even bothering to locate a spoon, she tore off the lid and licked the whole pottle clean in seconds. Only while wiping the white spillage off her mask did she acknowledge the valet. “Oh, hi Jeeve-Ahn.”

“Good day, ma’am.” He hadn’t been met with the usual round of applause, but couldn’t show any disappointment while wearing his suit. As he looked around the class, he saw the reason. All of Noka’s students were asleep. Perhaps, he thought, they needed more lemonade during school rather than less.

“How can I help you? Is there another book Turaga Nom would like to borrow?”

“No ma’am, the Turaga is quite content to read titles shipped from I am here to speak with you personally, if you can spare a few moments. In private.”

“I see…” Suddenly she was very close to him. “I’m sure they won’t mind if we sneak out for five, ten minutes.” Noka gestured at her class. Not one of the students had stirred.

“I am not here on social business, ma’am. There is a matter of dire importance to discuss.”

“Ugh, you men are always ‘too busy,’ aren’t you?” She zipped her top back up.

“If you please, I do not wish to be overheard, ma’am. And the Turaga must not know I was here.”

“Okay, fine. What is so important and why are you telling me?”

They talked for several minutes and, when Jeevie had given Noka her answers (and one of the stolen gummies), he departed at once for Po-Metru. His message was received with much reluctance and he doubted any of the other Matoran would be cheerful about it. But his mission had to be completed. Time was already running out.

As he travelled, he saw the transport chutes that wound across the city, carrying cargo and thrillseeking Matoran from place to place. They were magnetized tubes filled with an inedible (but breathable) fluid called gooey protodermis. Anything that wasn’t food in Metru Nui was made from protodermis: Jeevie’s board, the Turaga’s throne, Noka’s revealing chestplate. Nobody knew where this stuff came from. Nobody was bothered to find out; all the sweet things were much more interesting.

When he could no longer hear fizzing and bubbling, but instead the excited munchings of the Choc-people, he knew he was above Po-Metru. This was the land of the sculptors. Below were Matoran with stomachs and teeth adapted for shaping mounds of chocolate into works of art. Statues of wild Rahi animals and of heroes like the Toa decorated their fields. The valet sought one sculptor in particular, a man called Lindta.

“It is NOT a girls’ name!” This shout came from within Lindta’s hut when Jeevie arrived. There was more. “Get outta my house, Achnoo! You’re supposed to be working!”

There was a devilish laughter, then a Matoran with bronze armour came out of the hut. “Oh, hello Jeeve-Ahn! You good?” Without waiting for a reply, the troublemaker Achnoo departed for his work station.

Lindta himself was seated inside, surrounded by fragments of his work. All the furniture was covered in choc chips and there was a strong aroma of cocoa powder. “Hello, Jeeve-Ahn! You came at a bad time, I’m afraid. That rascal Achnoo has been in here, trying to eat my desk again.”

“Indeed, sir? Perhaps I can sweeten the mood for you.” When Jeevie raised his serving tray this time, it displayed a platter of licorice pieces.

“LICORICE GIMME GIMME GIMME!” Once again, the valet watched as a Matoran traded manners for the chance to stuff their face. When Lindta had recovered his usual composure, Jeevie delivered his urgent message. As he spoke, the sculptor’s expression grew darker, until finally he appeared as though he were looking upon a plate of spinach.

“But Jeeve-Ahn, how am I supposed to help?”

“With this,” as he passed over a stolen gummi bear of translucent brown colour. “Here is what you must do with it…”

A moment later, the meeting was concluded. Jeevie flew next to Onu-Metru, passing from soft-eating fields to the hard ground of the cookie district. There were few buildings on the surface, for the Matoran here mostly worked in the giant underground Museum. Down there were specimens of every edible substance ever discovered, from apple crumble to zebrajam. It was in this deep, doughy place that the archivist Munchu worked.

That day he’d been assigned one of the most important jobs of the upper level: sorting M&Ms. Munchu was calculating the ratio of green to yellow he required, when Jeevie burst in with a bottle of ginger beer. After downing it in one gulp, the archivist let out an island-rattling belch and grunted “Cheers Jeevie.” As before, the valet recounted his urgent message and handed over a gummi bear, this time black like a questionable piece of toast.

Like the others, Munchu showed less enthusiasm than a jar of sand. As they often said in the Museum, “Tough bikkies.” On his way out Jeevie nearly knocked over a sign reading ‘Do not eat the exhibits.’ He wondered what they paid the archivists with as he returned to the surface and headed for Ko-Metru.

In this coldest of districts, the Matoran all wore white armour and worked among translucent white towers; the Popsicle Towers. Everywhere were glints from the lenses of large telescopes operated by the residents. Their instruments peered beyond the mountains, composed of ice-cream of all imaginable colours, out into deep space. They were astrologers who used the stars to forecast the future. At least, that’s what they called it. Ko-Matoran were actually brilliant at locating asteroids made of ice-cream which they hoped to harvest some day. Looking forward to the future meant looking for more things to eat.

Astrologer Fruju was adept at not only finding such asteroids, but thinking up ways to capture them. The diagrams the valet passed by in his observatory were exquisite plans for giant nets and other devices. Many diagrams there were, for Fruju was known for being so quiet he could go for years without speaking. Drawings were the only reliable way he communicated.

Jeevie found him staring into his telescope, hunched over like a gargoyle. When he finally realized he had a visitor (it took much polite clinking upon the serving tray), Fruju slid off his chair and rotated himself. An eyepiece retracted into his mask; some astrologers used these to provide maximum magnification. He said nothing.

“Good day, sir. Would you care for some refreshment?” Jeevie now produced a little cup filled with jellybeans.

Rather than lunge forward like any other Matoran, Fruju took one step forward and held his hands out. The jellybeans were passed to him and he raised them to his mouth, his arms bending like a drawbridge. After letting them tumble down into his tract he stood still with his hands clasped behind his back, awaiting information. It was given to him, without any verbal response, then Jeevie gave him a milky white gummi and left the observatory.

Le-Metru was the next destination, specifically the workplace of Peppau. Getting there required navigating a green web of protodermis chutes, for the workplace in question was a giant hub in the centre of the chute network. Locals had abandoned any imaginative food-related names and just called it The Hub. Or the BRT (Big Round Thingie). Jeevie landed and hid his hoverboard once again, the smell of mint strong in his face-holes.

Matoran here were tasked with providing efficient transport for all of Metru Nui. Without their efforts, it would have been impossible (a bit tiring, anyway) for the common citizen to access all the wonderful flavours of the city. They kept the chutes flowing and the friendly Ussal crabs scuttling. Some, like Peppau, risked their pride to test new transport methods. When Jeevie asked the BRT receptionist for his location, he was directed to the infamous Test Track, where prototype vehicles were driven to their limits.

He stood at the southern edge of the Track, where mint plants grew like weeds, waiting for a sign of Peppau. After just a few seconds, the test pilot swerved into view, atop some ridiculous jet-powered tricycle. When he noticed the valet waiting there, Peppau waved. But then the handlebars came off of his contraption and naughty words were emitted. The tricycle veered into the wall and sent its rider flying. He bounced across the Track like a potato, coming to rest right at Jeevie’s feet.

“Ugghhhh… hi Jeevie. Not sure what happened there.”

“It would appear, sir, that the steering column of the vehicle has malfunctioned.”

“Oh yeah. Stupid thing, probably welded on with chewing gum.”

“Are you alright, sir?”

“Yeah, I’ve had way harder knocks in this job! Like this one time, I was in a car with an ejector seat, but they didn’t tell me it was an ejector seat. So when I saw this big red button in front of me, I thought, “I don’t know what that does, but if I’m gonna do a thorough test, I should push it anyway.” They had to get four men with giant spatulas to scrape me off the ceiling. And then…”

“If I may interject, sir, I have something of great importance to discuss.”

“Oh right! Sorry Jeevie.” Unlike Fruju, this Le-Matoran could chat endlessly if allowed to.

“I would suggest that we be prompt, for I fear the engine is still in operation.”

“Huh?” Suddenly the sound of an approaching runaway jet-powered tricycle hit Peppau’s ears. Before he could jump out of the way, he was spinning through the air again. Jeevie managed to jump onto the trike and bring it to a stop, for such skills are essential for valet and Toa alike. Since he was both, Jeevie was four times as good at driving as anybody else.

After Peppau had come to rest again, he was offered a platter of Jaffa biscuits. These were momentarily reduced to orange crumbs. Again Jeevie delivered his message, again he handed over a gummi bear, again the word again agained. A mixture of reluctance and bruises contorted the Matoran’s face. Jeevie wished him good luck, then returned to the BRT and retrieved his hoverboard.

There was only one more gummi to deliver, but Jeevie felt he was already out of time. In the distance was Ta-Metru, his former home. As he passed from fresh-smelling Le-Metru into the land of warmth and sour things, he thought of the creatures he was trying to evade. They were nasty brutes, showing none of a valet’s courtesy, from a place far beyond Metru Nui. They didn’t care for yumminess, or for the virtues of the Matoran. They were hunters – and that day, they were hunting Jeeve-Ahn.



Oh my god. This is the best.

1 Like

Well wasn’t that interesting.


I laughed for about 10 minutes

This story is the best.

Where and when will the next be posted, if you continue to post.

Dude this is SOOO great! Keep posting this if you can!

Stay Freaking Classy

This is actually the first part of my pledge to write a parody of the entire Bionicle storyline. I posted this today because I wanted to know what kind of a reception it would get on the TTV forums. Originally I was writing it for BZPower but with the recent developments, I’ve decided to move away from them. So here you are! Next installment shall be uploaded very soon.

I am very grateful for your positive feedback, everybody! It’s great to know that I’m doing something right and that my writing style has indeed improved.

What do you guys think of the characters? The theme?



best part was by far Nokama… er, I mean Noca-Cola zipping her top back up. But overall it’s an amazing story. Usually I prefer serious fanfictions, but this is amazing. I can’t wait to see what you do with 2005 and 2001’s story.


This is awesome.

I need to see these characters in visual form.

You mean like this? Made with Art of Illusion for Windows. :wink:


It’s here that I entered the story. My name was (and still is) Banana. In Ta-Metru I worked as a maskmaker, crafting masks for Toa and Matoran from solid protodermis. There were two main sources of this material: the buildings of the city and special Kanougat Disks. Since these Disks were about the same size as a typical mask I preferred to use them for the job. Other maskmakers went for the other option: for some reason it was still legal to melt down other buildings.

There I was, torch blazing in my hands and a half-finished mask on the bench before me. Metal bent at my touch and the final shape began to appear. Two perfect eyeholes, perfect ridges around the mouth. Almost done… unfortunately I didn’t notice the messenger drone sneaking up behind me.



In my surprise I slammed the torch down. The new mask shattered and fragments flew off my bench, bouncing off the walls and leaving scorch marks wherever they touched. One shard sliced into the drone. I heard it blow a fuse and drop to the floor. Then all was silent.

There was no food in my workplace, except for what I could fit into the personal mini-fridge. Ta-Metru was the district of Fruit, but fruity things weren’t helpful for smelting. Instead everything was metallic and the small furnace in the centre of the room gave off a brutal heat. So when something edible did enter, it would steal all my attention. Right then I could smell approaching sushi, which would almost make up for the destruction of another mask.

At the door I found Jeeve-Ahn, one of the last people I would have expected to turn up. As valet to Turaga Nom, he was usually in the massive Coliseum or doing important stuff elsewhere. But there he was, a slight crease in his otherwise immaculate jacket, his silver tray displaying the sushi I so craved.

“Good day, sir. Would you like some refreshment?”

“Certainly! Thank you Jeevie.” I was grateful indeed and tried to eat the sushi as politely as possible.

“There is a matter of great importance to discuss,” he said when I’d finished eating, “and we haven’t much time.”

“Okay… why’re you telling me?”

“Metru Nui requires you, Banana.” He stood there, stiff as a PopTart, his expression unchanging. But I thought I detected a more urgent tone of voice. “A time of darkness is upon us. Toa have gone missing and, as you will be aware, I am the last one remaining. I believe the other Toa have been murdered, or worse, sentenced to picking blueberries overseas.”

I shivered. Of all the many fruits in the universe, none was less desirable than the little blueberry.

“Recently I discovered who is responsible for the disappearances. Pray you never meet them.”

“But I’m not religious.”

“You believe in Marshy Mallow, do you not?”

I shrugged. “Evolution makes more sense to me. I found a fossilized Matoran once, when I was in Po-Metru.”

“That was a statue, sir. Composed of chocolate.”

“Oh. Well then, how am I supposed to help?”

“You, Banana, are one of my selected Matoran. You must take this gummi bear,” handing me a squishy red gummi, “to the Temple of the Great Marshmallow in Ga-Metru. Here is a map which may assist you. I fear this task will carry much danger and I caution you to remain hidden when possible. Avoid the Vahki police force and the hunters I have alluded to.”

“Why would the Vahki come after me? And who are these hunters?”

“You must depart immediately and, if knowledge of your absence from work comes to the Vahki, they will pursue. As for the hunters… I believe you will know them if you see them. They are two, not at all like any Matoran, from a place far beyond our city. Depart now, Banana. We must both be out of here!”

I nodded, stowing the gummi and map into my satchel. Matoran satchels are rather under-rated; they can hold vast weights yet never put any strain on one’s shoulder. Then I turned with the intention of shutting down my furnace. It occurred to me that Jeevie was still in the room. Rather than leaving, he was moving toward me.

“Too late sir, they are arrived!” He adjusted his monocle and faced the entrance, still holding up his serving tray. I could guess who he was referring to and concealed myself under a stack of Kanougat Disks. There was a strange sound, a series of rapid clicks which quickly increased in volume. Insect Rahi sounded the same when they walked, but if this was such a creature it must have been very heavy.

An almighty crash rocked the surroundings. Something bulky and blue dropped down behind Jeeve-Ahn, bits of the ventilation system falling around it. “You goin’ down, man!”

A second later, its green-armoured friend was at the door and its appearance made me want to scream. It had four legs like a giant spider, tipped with vicious blades. They carried a Toa-like torso with thin arms ending in pincers, and an elongate head with two pairs of fangs. A blue brick and a green arachnid; I had the impression they weren’t there to sell cookies.

“Hello again, brotherrrrr,” hissed Greenie.

“With all due respect, sir, it has been a great duration of time since you relinquished the right to refer to me by that term.” Even with these monsters on either side, Jeevie was retaining his most gentlemanly stance.

It took Greenie a moment to decipher his words, then he hissed again. His voice made me think he needed throat medicine, but it sounded nonetheless natural. “Ah, still keeping up the act. You’re cornered now, no escape this time! Now where is the Matoran? We heard you speaking with him and it would be a shame for him to miss our visit.” I felt his eyes turn toward me, as if they radiated heat. “Is he hiding under that shivering pile of Disks?”

“Dunno, what if it’s just a cat under them Disks?” Bluey sounded more like he’d developed his voice from watching too many hip hop videos.

“A cat?”

I managed to emit a timid “meow,” which seemed to convince them. Jeevie still hadn’t moved. Greenie looked around my workplace for a moment, his eyes narrow. His attention snapped back to where I was. “Wait… there are no cats in Ta-Metru! Remove the Disks, Cracka!”

I took Cracka to be Bluey’s real name and, while processing this info, he introduced himself to me by hurling a toolbox to knock all the Kanougat off my back. Now exposed and with my lovely tools scattered everywhere, I couldn’t think of what to do.

“Hey look Hiccupi, it’s a Matoran! Where’d the cat go?”

“There was no cat! Now grab him!” Another mental adjustment: Greenie was Hiccupi. I couldn’t imagine where that name originated.

Cracka advanced on me, his thick fingers outstretched and his single eye glowing red. I’d almost forgotten about Jeevie but he chose that moment to act. First he cleared his throat. “I do not advize that course of action, sir.”

“You wot?”

“Leave him be.”

“Or what, brotherrrrr? Does that monocle have a laser in it? Do you have a jam launcher hidden in those fancy pants?” Hiccupi raised his grotesque pincers and opened them just wide enough for a Toa’s head.

“No, sir. But this I possess.” He threw the serving tray and its edge began to glow with an intense white light. It spun through the air toward Cracka and he barely ducked in time. Good for him; the tray buried itself in the wall, burning through an electrical cable and spraying out sparks. Half the lights went out.

“Weapon of a Toa, duty of a servant. Now gentlemen, I must advise you to depart.”

Hiccupi’s answer was to swipe at Jeevie with his appendages. I’d never seen the valet move so fast, except in flight. He backflipped onto my bench, among warm mask shards. He kicked at Hiccupi and Cracka. He retrieved his tray and used it as a shield. Meanwhile I was hugging the opposite wall, edging my way closer to the exit.

Then it all went horribly wrong. Cracka landed a blow that would have pulverized any apricot. Jeevie’s tray was sent flying. His wrists were clamped together. He was trapped.

“Get the Matoran!” Hiccupi shouted. I ran for the door, even as Cracka’s thundering footsteps closed in. For a second it looked like I’d escape. But my good-for-nothing messenger drone chose that moment to restart. Whatever circuitry it had left jolted into life and caused it to leap across the floor and collide with me. I tumbled to the floor, uttering naughty words like “Koliballs” and fighting to keep my mask in place.

Then Cracka was upon me and I learned how it feels to be in a vice. His muscle more than made up for his lack of intelligence/manners/deodorant. I thought I’d burst like a grape as he hoisted me into the air. He took a few steps and I felt the extreme heat of my own furnace. The brute was dangling me over it! Health and Safety would tut at me for this.

“You see, you have failed!” Hiccupi laughed like a hyena. Jeevie and I were both helpless and about to be turned into apple crumble. Only a giant spider with a throat problem could find that funny.

“Laterz, strawberry man. You shoulda stayed as a cat.” The vice opened, to be replaced with the equally horrible sensation of gravity. My lovely workshop, my lovely bench, my lovely filthy ventilation duct, it all spun around me as I plummeted into my lovely fire pit. Cracka’s ugly face peered down at me and I closed my eyes, waiting for the burning end…

Burning? It didn’t feel like burning. More like flying through a protodermis chute. I opened my eyes and gasped – I was flying. Jeevie’s hoverboard was underneath me and it carried me far from the furnace, up through the smashed duct and away from those monsters. Never had I known it could move without a valet upon it. Biggest surprise since I tried tasting vanilla essence.

As I was transmitted through the ventilation system, something came over me. My vision became hazy, then snapped and for a moment I saw only black. Then an object rocketed into view, a little red orb. It smacked into my face and I realized it was a tomato, however I felt none of the juice any normal tomato would contain. Everything turned to translucent orange, then shifted to green, then through a multitude of colours I didn’t recognize. A herd of rhino-Rahi dived into a glass of water and merged into Jeeve-Ahn, and I began to suspect it was a hallucination.

Jeevie clambered out of the glass, his suit gone to be replaced with Toa armour that glowed like the sun. “Banana!” he cried, “time is short. Save the heart of Metru Nui! And don’t lose my hoverboard.” He sounded most unlike a valet in this vision. What could it mean?

A metal grate appeared before me and I felt the air whip past again. Back in the real world. Bracing myself, I crashed through the grate and ploughed into a mountain of tomatoes. In the ensuing slippery chaos, I lost Jeevie’s hoverboard in a storm of splattering. Being a Ta-Matoran, I was used to beating away round squishy objects, but even this obstacle impeded me. After the last tomato had fallen, I was able to stand and get my bearings.

I’d landed in one of the many fruit storage warehouses of the district, but I didn’t recall this one being set up for tomatoes. Something moved in the shadows behind me and I whirled around. It was the hoverboard, taking off all by itself. Maybe it would shoot back to Jeevie’s aid. But no; it planted itself in the floor by my side. I grabbed it and made for the door.

There was a window ahead of me and I stopped short when I saw through it. Hiccupi and Cracka were leading Jeevie past, his wrists locked in some kind of energy cuffs. He was well and truly defeated. Metru Nui was without protection!


This continued for about half an hour, then I remembered the gummi bear I’d been given. It gave me some comfort, but at the same time grief. Jeevie had asked me to take it to the Temple of the Great Marshmallow, a place I wasn’t sure existed. If I got there, what was I to do? Clearly this gummi was important, but why I couldn’t guess. Never mind. Few had ever questioned the wisdom of a valet, let alone the valet to Turaga Nom.

So it was that I departed for Ga-Metru, careful to avoid the roads patrolled by Vahki. Little could I imagine the perils and the bad aftertastes that awaited me.


this made me cry
in a good way

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short breath…


Hey everyone, awesome to hear your feedback!

I haven’t updated this topic for a while now because the story is actually on a bit of a hiatus. Further chapters have been written but I won’t do any more until I know more about the 2015 Bionicle plot. If it is indeed a re-boot of the original story, I might consider re-doing this whole parody. Or I might keep going with the original story, including the Mask of Life saga. We’ll see. :stuck_out_tongue:

Unity Duty Destiny Muffins


Whether it will remain canon or not, I want to read it all.

This is great!

I miss this so much


Hi everybody! After much thinking and consumption of muffins, I have decided to stop writing this comedy and instead start a new parody of the 2015 Bionicle storyline. I’m sorry if this comes as a disappointment, but I would seriously like to turn my attention to the awesome new Okotoverse that TLG has bestowed upon us.

The good news is, I actually wrote a couple of unpublished chapters for The Time Before Time, so those will be posted very soon! I hope you folks enjoy them.

~ Dekky

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Looking at the exterior of the Temple of the Great Marshmallow, I realized why so few people knew this place existed. It was shrouded in an unearthly mist and surrounded by a wide moat of what appeared to be Mountain Dew. The Temple itself rose into a gigantic dome, covered in thick chocolate. Where the outer wall was cracked and crumbled, or had bite marks in it, soft white marshmallow showed through. This was surely the universe’s biggest Mallowpuff.

I located the entrance but couldn’t see any way to traverse the moat. While a Ga-Matoran would have swum across with ease (or drunk it all), I didn’t share that ability. Perhaps getting across this moist expanse had been Jeevie’s idea of a test. I was determined not to fail any such tests. With me I’d brought the valet’s hoverboard and I hoped it would obey me. Sure enough, when I laid it upon the ground it glowed with Toa energy and awaited my step. Carefully I positioned myself upon it. We took off – and it came right out from under my feet. ■■■■■■.

As I plunged into the cold, fizzy depths of the moat, I wondered why this place was here anyway. Who builded it? Wasn’t the Coliseum always our big national monument? How much taxpayers’ money went into constructing this nigh inaccessible building? So many questions… so little air.

A hand latched onto me and I felt myself going up rather than down. My first thought was that Jeevie had found me. But this hand was small, belonging to a villager. Though I couldn’t see anything (the bubbles stung my eyes), I sensed the presence of a Ga-Matoran. Thank the fridge!

“Wow, you men and your useless pride. Didn’t you know you can’t swim?”

My splutterings prevented me from replying for a moment. When I’d finally swallowed as much Mountain Dew as I dared, I said “Thought it was worth a shot. Where did the hoverboard go?”

There was no sign of it. My rescuer clearly thought I was mad; she shook me while still holding me clear of the water’s surface. “Only Jeeve-Ahn has a hoverboard, silly.”

“Yeah, it was his. Hiccupi and Cracka captured him in my furnace and I had to use the board to escape. Then I had a vision of him telling me to save the heart of Metru Nui! And then-”

“Whatever. You want to get into the Temple or not?”

“Yes please.”

“Then hold on and stop squirming. You’re lucky you’re at least a little bit cute or I would have let you go by now.”


Her strong legs kicked us across the moat. She dumped me upon the shore, just as a shout came from behind. There was another Matoran there, wearing a bronze mask and armour, waving his hands and calling for help. Three more were running out of the mist behind him. Only two things can make a Matoran run at that speed: food in front or Vahki behind. In this case both were true.

“We have to help them!” I cried.

“I guess,” said the Ga-Matoran, “they might be good-looking enough…”

“There might be something helpful in the Temple! If I go inside and look, will you swim out for those guys?”

“Yeah, okay. Five men is better than one.”

Before I could ask her what she meant, she dived back into the drink and took off. I’d never seen anybody move so fast through liquid. Then I remembered flying through tomato juice, raising philosophical questions about whether I’d actually seen that. Such questions would only hinder me. I ran into the Temple of the Great Marshmallow.

While I couldn’t see much as I’d forgotten my lightgummi, I noticed a number of obscure carvings upon the round walls. They showed things I’d never seen nor tasted before. There was writing as well, in a dialect so ancient it probably wasn’t even listed on Wikipedia. One image I did understand, for it showed a side view of a flat bridge being lowered over a pit with a wavy line at the top. A drawbridge! Even better, there was a big lever underneath this carving. I yanked it down and looked back outside.

It seemed the two-dimensionality of the carving had deceived me. Instead of a bridge, a skinny metal pole was lowered across the moat. The lady who’d rescued me was just climbing onto the opposite shore; even she would have trouble balancing on such an object. There was little choice. She called out to one of the four arrivals and he headed for the water.

The other three hopped onto the pole. Two of them wrapped their arms around it and shimmied across, but the third flipped himself and proceeded to walk across on his hands. Obviously a cloud-brained Le-Matoran. They’d be in safety in a few moments, for no Vahki I’d heard of could swim and I could raise the drawpole at any time.

We were assembled at the entrance to the Temple, six strangers, each from a different district. Before we could all introduce ourselves, the Vahki appeared. “Ugly things, aren’t they?” said the Onu-Matoran.

“They’re law enforcers, they weren’t designed to look cuddly,” I replied.

“Come on boys, let’s leave them there. We have stuff to do inside, if you know what I mean,” said the Ga-Matoran. “My name’s Noca-Cola, by the way. But call me Noka.” She gave us a wink.

Each of us carried a coloured gummi bear into the Temple. Jeevie had selected us for something, but none could guess what we were supposed to do. First problem was getting some light. It was darker than Oreo shells in the centre. If only-

“Hey pip-spitter! What do you do for a living?”

“I am a mask-maker, sir. My name is Banana.”

“So don’t you have some tools with you?”

“I wasn’t able to bring anything from work, except…” Then it hit me. Whatever it was, it felt big and flat and glowed golden. I identified it as Jeevie’s hoverboard. “Aha! I knew it was hiding around here somewhere.”

Noka gave a gasp of surprise, then materialized at my side. “So you’re honest and handsome. I see a connection here already…”

The Po-Matoran cleared his throat. “Well that’s great, we better keep going and see what we can do.”

“What is your name?” asked the Onu-Matoran. An innocent enough question.

“Me? I’m Lindta.”

Echoing laughter basted from the shadows. It was the Le-Matoran, he who walked on his hands and acted as a living air freshener when he spoke. “Lindta?! That’s such a girls’ name!”

“IT IS NOT A GIRLS’ NAME!!!” I didn’t think even a sculptor of chocolate could cause a quake, but he almost did. “WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT?!!?”

Globs of marshmallow began peeling off the ceiling. One of them splattered all over the Le-Matoran’s mask, which halted his scoffings.

“Well then, what’s YOUR name?”

“I am Peppau, invincible test pilot and-”


This time it was just Lindta laughing, as the others watched him in silence. I still don’t see anything funny about ‘Peppau.’ Looking back, I was surprised none of them had laughed at my name.

It was the Onu-Matoran who stepped in. “Alright,” said he, “the last thing we need is an argument. You two better keep quiet or we’ll never figure out what Jeeve-Ahn wanted us for.” We’d later learn his name was Munchu.

Only the Ko-Matoran had yet to speak. In fact, he’d ignored us ever since the moat crossing. Guided by the light from the hoverboard in my hands, he’d found an inedible structure shaped like a massive dome. It was like a scale model of the whole Temple, just small enough to see over the top of. He waved a hand and we all walked over to him. When I was close enough I could see intricate apertures around the side of this thing. They matched the logos displayed on Kanougat disks, a different one for each district. One of the openings looked like a pineapple; that was the logo of Fruit.

“Hey babe, you know what this is?” Noka pointed her thumb at the dome.

Our icy comrade nodded, but still no words. I’d heard astrologers weren’t exactly party animals. There were kebab sticks in Ta-Metru with more conversational ability than the man we’d learn to call Fruju. He was clutching his gummi bear and, in front of our astounded eyes, dropped it into one of the openings. There was a flash of white light, then a strange beam of energy rose from the top.

“Of course!” shouted Munchu. “It’s a Toa Suva! An ancient shrine – I’ve seen pictures of these on the internet!” He raised his gummi and approached the Suva. “Alright guys, we need to cast these lollies into it.”

“What if we do that and nothing happens?”

“Don’t worry. I think Suvas have built-in video recorders. Jeeve-Ahn has probably left a message for us.” He pointed to the energy beam, where a faint outline of a Toa’s mask could be spotted.

So we all inserted our gummies and observed the beam grow more intense, until it flooded the Temple with eerie blue light. An image of Jeevie floated there, not as a respectable valet, but as a legendary Toa. I’d never seen him in this splendour before, except in my hallucination. Was it only that, or was what I saw a genuine message from a higher power? Either way, it hadn’t saved the valet from capture.

“My friends,” said the recording, “the city of Metru Nui is in danger. A shadow threatens its heart.” Again he sounded much less like a valet. “Only you hold the power to save it. Don’t be afraid, for Marshy Mallow himself will guide you in ways you could never imagine…” His image flickered for a moment. “Copyright Toa Jeeve-Ahn 1000 BTN.”

Jeevie vanished and the light grew more intense. We said nothing, just stared in bewilderment. The entire Suva began to rise, lifted up on a gigantic piston. The noise was dreadful, like being stuck inside the engine of an industrial cherry-picker. Explosions of light made me shield my eyes. Then a new sensation came over me, like nothing I’d ever felt before. Was I being electrocuted? It didn’t hurt as much as I would expect, but pain there was, as if I were being stretched like bread dough.

It was all over in a flash. We heard the Suva drop back down with a terrific ker-sploink. Deafening quiet and blinding darkness took over. Everything was the same as before, yet everything had changed. I reached once more for the hoverboard and this time it blazed in my grip. It looked smaller than I recalled. Then I realized I had grown. My hands, my arms, my legs… my whole body looked different. There were gasps of amazement from the others. We’d all been transformed.

Noka got to her feet. She now towered above the Suva, same height as a Toa. “Are we… sexy?”

“We’re Toa, baby! Woohooooo!” Peppau launched himself into a somersault, yelling with glee. Unfortunately his new taller figure would take some time to get used to. He landed hard on top of the Suva. On his butt.

“Toa? How can this be? I never heard of Matoran being turned into Toa like that. Must be a mistake,” muttered Munchu.

“Well sir,” said Peppau as he recomposed himself, “I say that if we appear to be Toa, we ARE Toa!”

“This is incredible!” said I. “But what are we to do now? There’s a squad of Vahki waiting for us to come out and we still have little idea of our goal.”

“I think our goal now is obvious,” said Lindta. “Smash those Vahki into tiny pieces and make an oven out of 'em.”

“They’re the police, chochead!” Peppau retorted. “Don’t you know how the law works?”

“Well whether we’re Toa or not, I say we make our own law. Now let’s find some weapons!”

Turaga Nom was once a Toa of Fruit himself, which is why he felt a special connection to the sourness of Ta-Metru. Whenever he visited, it was to bathe in the nostalgia of his glory years. Or to visit a maskmaker; that day he sought me in my workshop. He almost certainly wasn’t expecting to see what resembled an earthquake red zone. Only one light still functioned, the walls were buckled in various places, metal scraps lay everywhere and a stack of Disks had collapsed into my furnace.

“It seems we are too late,” said Nom in his throaty voice. Age had wizened his mask and stiffened his joints; he needed a Candycane to walk. But there was something in the way his eyes darted around that told a different story. He was alert, all-seeing. Like a real-life Fruit Ninja in disguise. “My valet has already visited… and it seems the Hunters have as well. I will have to ask Banana this favour at a later time.”

The Turaga turned to his two Vahki escorts. They were almost as tall as a Toa, but showed none of the aura or intelligence. Their brains worked like clocks; they were robots built with the sole purpose of catching lawbreakers. Since they considered any Matoran absent from work a lawbreaker, they’d be sent after Banana. Each one was constructed of dark red armour, with a massive pincered head that flashed green periodically. They carried a pair of special whack-sticks and held Kanougat Disks in their ‘mouths.’

Said Nom, “it is time for the next phase of the plan to begin. You know what I mean. Execute order 66!”

A series of green pulses travelled along their heads from snout to cranium. It was their way of communicating. Only Nom and Jeevie could have translated them: “Order acknowledged. Productions of Vahki units in all districts will be increased twenty-fold. Are there any other outstanding orders?”

“Yes please, bring me a mocha fudge sundae with sprinkles. No wait, hundreds and thousands. NO WAIT, milk bottle lollies! Thank you.” Being the Almighty President required him to speak very loudly when required.

The bots scurried off to carry out their dirty work. They crouched down and reverted to a quadrupedal mode, using their whack-sticks as limbs. In this fashion they attempted to evade Nom before he issued any more orders; even Vahki secretly dislike being bossed around. It-


It would be many a day before I realized why Turaga Nom had come looking for me, or what his words meant. And what a tasteless day it was to be.



such yes

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