The Star Jam
It had been a while since Tony had pulled an all nighter. And by “a while” he meant a good two or three weeks. That was something of a record for him, and now it was broken because the idiot mailman had dropped of a package for Mr. Stank containing about a gigabyte of sound data from a Zune. Who the hell even used Zune anymore? He wasn’t even sure the crappy things could record, but the cobbled together thing the files were on was obviously modeled after a Zune.
Tony pressed a button on his desk. “Pepper, could you please ask Happy how this thing got through security?”
“I don't have to ask. Rhodey gave that mailman express clearance. And if you’ll remember you told Happy to consider Rhodey’s orders like yours.”
“That was in the nineties!”
“Still counts!” Happy’s voice could be heard in the background.
“Constantly undermined at every turn,” Tony muttered. “I gave you all jobs and this is how you repay me? Whatever happened to loyalty?”
“You’re just sore you’re going to miss your self imposed deadline. You could just not include whatever… that is.” Pepper pointed out.
Tony gasped theatrical, “Blasphemy! Avenger’s Zero deserves to be included, too.”
“Then stop complaining about it. Now if you’re done having your tantrum, I’ve got a company to run.” Pepper was so unsympathetic sometimes.
“Fine. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be suffering here. With horrible grainy audio and really bad lyrics….”
"Little Star-Lord of Missouri
Perfect as a…
Perfect? You ain’t perfect.
I am Groot!
It’s a Christmas song guys, just go with it.
I ain’t singin’ no song about you being perfect.
Fine!"
There was the sound of people shuffling around before the recording cut out and then started up again. Tony assumed it was some time later.
"Deck the halls with boughs of holly
Why are we hitting halls?
T’is the season to be Jolly
What does the season have to do with hitting things?
Fill the meadcup and drain the barrel
I AM GROOT!
That’s it… this one isn’t going to work either.
Tony let out a sigh as the recording cut out again for a moment. “This is going to be a long, long night.” Clapping his hands together he called out to FRIDAY, “Alright, give me everything this thing’s got. We’ll just…. Mash it all together and drop a beat. Call it techno, or dubstep, or whatever that shit kids call music now.”
“I believe it’s called a mash-up, Sir.” FRIDAY informed him helpfully.