“Transformers: Save the Beer!”
After so many months of waste oil collecting in their prehistoric cave, and Beachcomber not around to mop up after, the Dinobots got fed up and had another rampage inside Autobot HQ. You'd think Wheeljack would have set up a defense system, daycare cage— a BOMB— or something like that by now, but he is the complacent parent: come home whenever, just don't forget the windshield fluid. So happens he's not even around to see today's shenanigans, but Ratchet is. And there aren't enough dup-dup-dups in the world to stop this outburst. The computer station that Sludge is destroying is rather small for an Autobot. Must be Sparkplug's (his friends call him Sparky). This damage is particularly bad; not even Grapple's repair efforts could make it worse. But there was a hero that day. Anxious to keep the riot from spreading to the alcohol supply, Trailbreaker put his force field talents to use. Good thing, too. That's premium Energon Lager he's got there. Enough of that and even Alpha-Q looks attractive. The Autobots were still alive— 'cause they were drinking. Of course when it's time to head into battle, ol' Teebs won't have enough power to generate a suitable defense; he'll just have to rely on his after-school-special wit for a distraction.
The last episode of Transformers Generation 1 aired in 1986. So why the hell am I drawing them now? Because Amy needed a special birthday present in celebration of her favorite character. Which one is it? Imagine this build-up of suspects. After all these years it's not Warworld Starscream, or regular Starscream, or Springer, Whirl, Octane, or the multiple Transformers who's interfaced with Pantera. It's the whitest black Autobot to never get his own episode and get lapped in the Robot-Legs-For-Chip Charity Grand Prix. Who knew? Actually it became clear when the comic came along and portrayed him as an alcoholic. Yup, Amy likes the bad boys. But what's his name now? Trailcutter? Brakecutter? Teebie-Jeebies?
"Save the Beer" is a series of silly bar drawings because I know a running gag when I see one. Only this one was refined to a more G1-esque art style; the rest prove that I enjoy an alcoholic beverage every now and then myself. Hell, this blog was written with the help of a Drunken Angel.