Current mood:	amused
Entry tags:	lambo sammich

And because I can, random Lambo sammich.
Were they still on Cybertron, they would have had to fight their way through no less than three layers of Decepticon security to the Hall of Records - if it was still standing by now - and spend hours reviewing track after track before they even found the section their answer would be in. Granted, were they still on Cybertron the question would never have arisen, but the point was, information was so much easier to find on Earth it wasn't even funny. When it came down to it, humanity's greatest contribution to the universe? Google.

"Found it!" Sunstreaker announced, and Bluestreak peered over his shoulder to see. "According to this, zebras are black with white stripes."

"Yes!" Sideswipe pumped his fist in the air. "Pay up, Blue!"

Bluestreak grumbled and flipped him an energon goodie. "How do they know, anyway, Sunny?" he asked. "Did someone ask them?"

"Zebras don't talk, doof." Sunstreaker aimed a friendly swat at his thigh, making the gunner squeak. "Says here if you shave one their skin is black all over."

"Really?"

Sunstreaker and Bluestreak had just enough time to exchange a horrified look before Sideswipe was off and running, and they had to scramble to chase him down.

***

"And that," Bluestreak finished (finally), "is why Sideswipe is strung up in the lounge. Sir."

"I see." Optimus Prime peered down at his gunner, wondering (not for the first time) why he hadn't known before the Ark launched what a pack of reprobates he was flying with. Oh, that's right, Jazz was in charge of the roster.

"That will be all, Bluestreak," he said finally. "Carry on."

Sideswipe spluttered from his unfortunate position. "H-Hey!"

Though his salute was perfectly professional, Bluestreak's wide grin was anything but. "Yes sir!"