They see me rollin

As we continued on our journey, we came across an old guy with long gray hair, clad in a tattered trench coat and western outfit. He appeared to be cooking something by a campfire, but I couldn't tell what it was, nor did I want to.

"Crickey, mate! That smells like battered emu eggs n' breast. Let's grab a bite!" Dumbee grinned as he dragged me over.

"Huh? Da damn fuck you fucks here for?" the old man snarled.

"I'm Drop Bear Dumbee, mate. Australialand's number one zoologist hunting for the yaoi yowie."

"I'm a fucking kangaroo with a gun. Give us your food," I growled.

"You challengin' Wackin' Drackin to a showdown? Imma fastest shot n' Scotland, pardner," the old man declared.

"Scotland!? You don't sound fucking Scottish!"

"I'm Drackin Scott! Dat dun mean Scotland's my land! And in dat land, we speak good ole merican English!"

This guy's either off his meds, or Scotland's really become Texas in this fucking world, as if it wasn't already stupid enough.

"You cooking some emu, mate? I'd love a scoop," Dumbee smiled.

"Emu? Nah, ostrich. Flap, flap, gonna fly ostrich cordin' to the book," Drackin scowled as he held up an old-looking book and smacked his hand on it's dusty cover.

Coughing away the dust, I was able to make out the wording, Falco's Commentin cooks, along with a pink humanoid girl with the face of Korby from that video game series. Knowing how this shit goes, it's probably best I don't look in the book.

"Where'd ya get that, mate?" Dumbee asked.

Fucking idiot.

"Oh, I dun got it from the girl next door living in a haunted mansion."

I feel like that's a reference to something my 1999 brain probably won't get.

"There's a mansion, mate? Was there a yowie pelt innit?" Dumbee asked.

"Yowee? The fuck's that?"

Oh no.

My fears came to fruition as Dumbee grinned and plopped me down on the ground with him. "Well mate, they say there's a creature known as the yowie..."

...

2 hours later and 200 brain cells less, Dumbee finished his fucking thesis speech.

"So some Australian bigfoot? Shoulda just started with that. I'm looking for that dun sasquatch, but I ran outta jerky, so I gotta make me some more, but I don't know cooking. I just eat shit raw, so I grabbed a cookbook from some guy while he was singing," Drackin scoffed.

"Wait, I thought you said it was from a girl living in a haunted mansion."

"What mansion? You see any haunted mansions in this time period? Nah, it was a singing guy with ginger hair n' a coat like mine. Think his name was Rick Ashley, or somethin-"

"Wait, RICK ASHLEY!? Fucking hell, we gotta run!" I cried as I bolted up.

But the moment I turned around...

Du du du du dududu!

"NO! FUCK NO! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!" I shouted as I madly fired my shotgun, but to no avail as all my shots phased through him.

"No cancelling out the song, bitch! You're listening to the whole thing!" Richelieu's voice snickered in my mind.

"WHY!?"

"You know the rules, and so do I," Rick Ashley sang right to my face. 

NO!

"Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down..."

FFFFFFFFFFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHK!

*Roux lost 1987 brain cells*

...

I panted as the song finally ended and Rick fucking Ashley vanished.

"Hey wait, I don't understand this part in the recipe. Lemme call him back," Drackin scowled as he opened the book.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

Du du du du dududu!

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"