Actions

Work Header

Ace Ventura: Pan Detective!

Work Text:

Characters: Peter Pan & Ace Ventura Pet Detective
Location: A Taco Bell somewhere in Michigan (Terra Namil)
Scenario: Wrestling

 

All characters, locations and scenarios were pulled out of a hat to create this story, which was written in 30 minutes or less.

--

 

"Do I have something in my teeth?"

Ace spread his lips wide across his gums as he gesticulated manically at the young red head in green tights. Holding both hands parallel to his face, he indicated the generous helping of taco filling that burst between his teeth and across his elastic jowls. He scarfed down the spicy innards of his quesalupa loudly, dragging the experience out until the entire restaurant of Michiganites had craned their necks to locate the source of the violet slurping.

"Golly willikers, Mr. Ventura!" cried Peter, sitting cross-legged on the seat across from the gangly private eye. "I wish the Lost Boys could see me right now! They'd have the world's biggest food fight, it'd be swell!"

Ace continued to stuff his face until dressing poured out of his nostrils like some sort of bizarre performance piece. He wrestled with the soft shell of his snack, strangling it like a dying animal before ejecting its contents into his gullet. He laughed spasmodically, his voice shifting into multiple differing cadences as he expressed what Peter took to be delight.

"Yeah, see!" Ace Ventura, Pet Detective, declared in a nasally gangster voice one second, and then jumping audaciously into a bad Scotty from Star Trek impression. "Mah stomach can't take much more o' this, cap'n! The dilithium crystals in mah arse hole are gonna blow! Ohhhh! Hold on to me, Betty!"

"Mr. Ventura," Peter cleared his throat, absently floating a few inches off the seat of his chair as he drifted closer to the strange man he'd employed. "I was rather hoping we could discuss the job. You know, finding Tink."

"Tink?" Ace's eyes snapped open with mock recongition, his voice changing to that of an old seadog. Without knowing it, Ace had put Peter in mind of his nemesis, the old codfish Captain Hook himself. "Arrr has been many a year since I seen the great white tink! I had a harpoon in me hand and a fresh roll o' toilet paper in the other! Aye, says I, never go for a tink without the proper equipment - ya never know when a tink'll turn into a toot!"

"It's short for Tinkerbell," Peter coughed lightly, brushing a hand through his hair as red as the setting sun. His nose wrinkled in consternation as he realized that he was probably going to have to explain himself slowly as not to trigger one of Ace's random cartoonish outbursts. "She's my friend. She went missing several days ago. I was flying past Big Ben and being all impish and youthful, like usual, when..."

"EHHH!" Ace screamed, making a sound not unlike a game show buzzer. "Sorry my friend, I'm afraid the rules clearly state that you must phrase your missing person in the form of an animal. I don't do people. That's for human detectives. Detectives that look for humans, I mean. I am a human being!" That last part was spoken like John Hurt in The Elephant Man. In case you couldn't figure that out.

"Tink isn't just an ordinary person! She's... a fairy," Peter calmly explained. "Most regular PIs wouldn't listen to me, but you're a... special breed, Mr. Ventura."

Ace nodded in agreement as he started building the mountain from Close Encounters of the Third Kind out of his refried beans.

"Tink isn't an animal, but she's a magical creature," Peter continued, "and as such I think you're the best person... heck, the only person for the job. Will you help me?"

Ace pulled his lower lip forward in an exaggerated display of contemplation. Then he snapped both his fingers, now dripping with the secretions of his lunch, and leapt onto the table. "IT'S ALIVE! IT'S ALIIIIVE!" He flailed and danced until Peter was certain he must have twisted his body unnaturally to the point that he might break something. Then, as Peter regarded him, Ace span around in place and clasped his fingers to either side of his buttocks, implying that he was now communicating from the inner reaches of his asshole. "I'm sure I can take a CRACK at this case!"

Peter sighed, a mixture of relief and exasperation. He and Tink were bonded in a way that nobody else could understand - certainly not someone from Ace Ventura's world, anyway. He and Tink shared a love that only an eternally young nymph and a miniature blonde psychopath that would literally try to murder a girl simply for catching his eye. They were the best friends anyone could ever have!

"Well all right! Shucks, it's swell to hear that!" Peter smiled broadly, extending his hand and nodding affirmatively. "Shake on it, Mr. Ventura?"

Ace wiped his hands on his Hawaiian shirt and pursed his lips. "All-righty then!"

Before they could shake, something gripped Ace by the collar and threw him halfway across the Taco Bell establishment. Peter gasped and cringed, expecting Ace to be seriously hurt. But instead, Ace popped up and laughed. "Okay. Who's the wise guy? Huh? Do I have to go to Africa and have a surprisingly racist adventure that is still deemed okay by a 1990s Western audience to get you off my back?"

Without even waiting for him to finish speaking, the assailant once more gripped Ace and launched him to the wall where all the Taco Bell specials were displayed. Peter recoiled in horror as he realized what was happening. His shadow was kicking Ace Ventura's behind.

"Hold on, now!" Peter began berating his two dimensional counterpart, but it was no use. His shadow had decided Ace Ventura was not worth their time - or at least, he was worth their time, so long as that time was spent pummeling the man. "Ace, watch out!"

Ace swung his arms out like a poorly constructed puppet with tangled strings, but it was to no avail. The shadow dragged him across the wall, smushing his face into the recycled building material and casting him unceremoniously into the men's bathroom. Peter's Shadow dove right in after him, and there followed several minutes of caterwauling mixed with esoteric impersonations from decades back.

"Why I oughtta!" "Oh a wise guy huh!" "MISTER SULU, RAISE SHIELDS!" "You wanna tussle, pilgrim?" "YOU'RE THE MAN NOW, DOG!"

Eventually the violence ceased, and Ace slowly retrieved himself from the restroom. He stood before the Taco Bell customers, soaked and covered in various sauces from his demented dining technique, and announced at the top of his lungs: "DO NOT. GO IN THERE. WHEW!"

Peter decided to look for Tinkerbell on his own. It took him a day.

Ace Ventura spent that time haggling with his server over the price of 12 quesalupas.