#the crimson hayballer

[edsonjnovaes]

Corrida muito maluca!

Palavras Perdidas: Carros inspirados em desenhos, 80 atividades para crianças: simples, divertidas, de baixo custo e todas dentro de casa, Filmes e seus carros, Cars, planes, trucks and Teepees on Historic Route 66., What’s happening here?!? Participe de nosso grupo no WhatsApp Recomendo: Art and culture of the native peoples of our planet. ART AMBA MIRIM Share, help us lift other flights.

[bobauthorman]

This new Wacky Races reboot is trippin'.

[acmeoop]

Red Max

The Crimson Haybaler

[the-gunslinger]

Ordinary Things; [patch] @rickiedevron

"Alrigh'. Alrigh'. You can take a look at it, but I promise you, love, tha' it isn't anythin' too serious." The exhausted gunslinger said in an exasperated tone between gulping down lungfuls of air with each heavy, panting breath. Through sheer stubbornness and willpower, he forcibly managed to remove his well-worn overcoat before laying it upon a nearby haybale. His brow glistened with beads of sweat, from both the narrow escape the two had barely managed to secure and the throbbing sensations of pain that surged through nerves and lit them aflame whenever he moved his right shoulder. Too tired to argue with her, he slumped down against the bale of gathered hay and splayed his legs out before himself. Those stormy grey eyes peered around the barn's interior once again. The structure was empty inside save for the two of them, a few pieces of farming equipment, a pair of heavily-breathing dogs, and several bundles of hay gathered from the nearby fields. It wasn't until he felt her settle herself down upon his thighs, straddling his lap, that his gaze flickered back to his travelling companion. "Just a lucky shot. Feels like it went straight through though. I'll be fine, darlin'." Once again, the gunslinger tried to reassure her of the situation despite the bleeding wound currently staining his shirt with crimson.

@rickiedevron

[jesse-of-jugo]

The Knight and the Rebel Chapter 1, Part 2

                Sevante was running, running through a fiend of blood and stone. Blood like streams. Stone like skin. The sky was dark, but there were no stars. Why were there no stars? There should be stars. Nightmare obelisks, tall and thin and swallowing the light with their blackness, disappeared into the empty sky, bellowing their deep siren calls that shook the earth. Sevante stumbled and turned. For all his running, the pursuer loomed above him as if he had never moved. Draped in billowing crimson below a placid brass face, with eyes that were emptier that a skull’s, it produced a bony hand with many rings from its cloak, and touched Sevante’s chest with a fingertip. In an instant his blood boiled in his veins and his screams drowned out the trumpeting sirens and…

                Sevante’s face bounced off the floorboards. Cursing quietly, he writhed into a sitting position of the floor. The haybale he had used as a bed was only a foot or so high, so thankfully the fall was not enough to break his nose. Still, it wasn’t a terribly pleasant way to wake up from a nightmare.

                The barn echoed with the steady drumroll of rain against the shingled roof, which periodically whipped into frenzied cacophonies as the stronger gales of the storm hit. The aged wood creaked under its own weight, as if the wind reminded it of its age. As an old man’s bones crackled and popped, so did the barn’s greyed skeleton.

                Thunder crashed outside, throwing light through the open barn door and revealing the silhouette of a man in the doorway. Sevante was on his feet in an instant, reaching for the longsword leaned against the bed of hay, but stopped and settled once he recognized the build and hooded coat of the homesteader who had let him sleep here for the night. Sevante sat back on the hay. “It’s dangerous to sneak up on somebody like that.”

                The man, who Sevante had learned earlier was named Kieth Darner, stepped inside. “Didn’t want to wake ya, case you were still dozing.”

                Sevante let out an exhausted sigh. “Well, I’m not.” He was somehow more tired than before he had set down for the night.

                “I see that,” replied the farmer. “Heard it, too.” His face was a shadow. Darner had seemed personable in the daylight, friendly even. Now, in the dark of the barn, backlit by the single, dim lantern he had set outside the barn, he could have been a specter. “Your hollering, it’s frightening my kids, the missus, too. Sounds like you’re…you know…touched.”        

                Touched. That was a nasty word, these days.

                “You’ll want me gone, then?” Sevante said flatly.

                Darner may have nodded. It was impossible to tell. “Before sunup, or when the storm dies down. Whichever comes first.”

                Sevante nodded and rolled back onto his hay bale. “Consider it done. Thank you for the hospitality.”

                The shadow in the shape of Darner turned to go. “Don’t let me find you here in the morning.”

                Sure enough, when morning came, the only thing Darner found was a pair of gold coins resting where Sevante’s head had been, an extremely generous sum. He pocketed the coins, told his wife he had only found one, and never thought about the traveler again to his dying day.

[alexjcrowley]

Okay fine I have to do everything in this house

Referring to the 1968-69 show because I am old

No. 1: the Slag brothers in the boulder mobile

Seeing as I am doing this in 2024, I'll go with the Alpine line up Pierre Gasly and Esteban Ocon. They would probably drive faster if they had The Flinstones car you have to carry yourself and run.

No. 2: The Gruesome Twosome in the Creepy Coupe

Who gets the car of nightmares? I wanna say Haas, because as much as Alpine is failing this year and I would kiss Kevin Magnussen on the lips for what he did in Jaddah, who of us is reacting any differently than screaming in horror if we find out our favourite driver ended up in Haas? Also the dragon is definitely the spirit of Gunther Steiner still haunting the team.

No. 3: Professor Pat Pending in the Convert-A-Car

A car that can adapt to every circumstances? Now that would be a miracle. Unfortunately, I'll go with Alfa Romeo/Sauber/Stake F1 Team/Future Audi for their particularly pronounced tendency to change name every few years just to confuse everybody on the paddock (at least the ex Alpha Tauri still has Racing Bulls in it and a somewhat recognisable logo).

No 4. : Red Max in the Crimson Haybaler

Yeah, I don't care it's red, the name of the pilot should suffice, plus this literally flies, which is more or less what RedBull cars have been doing for a while. And if there were any other doubts, let me just add: it's not a coincidence it's one of the few cars without a co-pilot, he can win this game all on his own.

No. 5: Penelope Pitstop in the Compact Pussycat

You can try to convince me this ain't Ferrari and you can fail. Doesn't matter the performance, they stay the most stylish car on track. And Penelope is definitely devilishly gorgeous.

No. 6: Sergeant Blast and Private Meekly in the Army Surplus Special

I'll be honest, I'll go with Williams because Logan's surname is literally Sargeant. Williams wants YOU to represent USA at the rich european family motorsport.

 No. 7: Ant Hill Mob in the Bulletproof Bomb

Mixed bag of wayyy too many guys for just one car. I'm getting Alpha Tauri VisaCashAppRB switching seats every three months vibes. Also those guys are as tall and as angry as Yuki Tsunoda.

No. 8: Lazy Luke and Blubber Bear in the Arkansas Chuggabug

One's too anxious, the other doesn't break a sweat. These are definitely Norris edging for a win and Oscar with the Kimi Räikkönen attitude in a McLaren.

No. 9: Peter Perfect in the Turbo Terrific

No one could embody the perfect gentleman aura of Peter Perfect like the Britcedes duo. They act like British Royalty, and, like Peter always comes in aid of Penelope, Lewis is for obvious reasons quite friendly with Charles this season. Yeah, the car is shaped like a dick, but that's a subtle reference to George Russell being a meme lord.

No. 00: Dick Dastardly and Muttley in the Mean Machine

An old man ready to sabotage everyone on the race and his loyal sidekick? Fernando Alonso and Lance Stroll could not have more accurately represented.

About the Rufus Ruffcut and Sawtooth in the Buzzwagon erasure, blame Tumblr for not allowing more than 10 pictures in a post, but also F1 for turning down Andretti's offer, otherwise we could have done all of the 11 cars.

F1 x Wacky Races crossover when

[acmeoop]

Cannonball Power “The Dipsy Doodle Desert Derby” (1968)

[aesthetic-allie-things]

The Wacky Races

(+Bonus) 

The Mean Machine

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Bouncy, if you dont mind the request, would you consider writing something that would involve Jaskier singing "Off with his shirt" from Galavant in it?

Yeah, I’ve been putting this off for a minute...

tw: horny

---

Geralt allowed his brothers to usher him into a pair of clean, comfortable black jeans and his usual biker boots. He was confused, however, when they insisted that he wear a flowing white shirt that looked like it had been stolen from the closet of a Disney prince. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a themed bar,” Eskel explained, gesturing to his own vaguely-medieval getup. “You have to dress at least slightly in costume or they won’t let you in.”

“And the drinks are delicious and reasonably priced,” Lambert urged. “I don’t like going out in public, but I love this place.”

“Fine,” the middle brother grouched, slipping into the required outfit. “But if this is one of those weird gay bars you keep dragging me to I’m going to-”

---

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, it was one of those weird gay bars they kept dragging him to. Only this time they at least explained that the owner/bar manager was just his type and really flirtatious. Great. Excellent. Things he didn’t need right now: his brothers meddling and a potential romantic interlude. 

He was already too busy. 

Alas, they were insistent. And stronger than him when they teamed up. 

---

“Eskel, Lambert, good to see you boys again!” a strange brunette man practically bounced over to meet them. He was wearing tight blue silk pants and a very revealing white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of his eyes, brighter blue than his pants and sparkling in the dim light of the ‘tavern’, had Geralt’s heart galloping in his chest. “Just in time, too.”

“Is it ten o’clock already?” Lambert mused, glancing down at his wrist as if a watch might suddenly sprout there and reveal the time. “Oh, why I suppose it is! We wouldn’t want our brother here to miss the show, Jaskier.”

“Did you boys plan this?” the man (Jaskier apparently) asked, turning and making his way up a short staircase. He gestured at Geralt, who blushed crimson at the attention. “Is that why you brought this cutie along?” 

“Mayyyyybe,” Eskel drawled, very suspiciously. Geralt didn’t like where this was going. Not at all. Not even a little bit. 

“Well get in position boys,” the lights suddenly dimmed and a spotlight brightened on Jaskier. “It’s time!”

A cheer rang out through the bar and Geralt was yanked back onto the dance floor by his brothers. He watched, fascinated and terrified, as a troupe of well-organized dancers in matching medieval costumes appeared around Jaskier. Music swelled from the speakers and the bar owner began to sing (rather prettily): 

“You trespassed upon my kingdom, Now you are in my sway... Which basically means as the Queen of all Queens, (this line came with a wink) I'm going to make you pay!”

A cheer rang out again and Geralt realized with growing apprehension that a second spotlight had been turned on and focused on him. He shot a glare at Lambert, who was grinning like a giddy schoolchild and another at Eskel, who was staring at the ceiling like nothing was happening at all. Two of the dancers grabbed Jaskier under the arms and brought him to stand directly in front of the blushing, white-haired ‘interloper’. 

“Well, one thing for sure, We'll settle the score, And trust me it's more than fair!

Off with his shirt!” 

Geralt’s eyes went wide when Eskel and Lambert both reached for him and ripped the shirt from his shoulders. They gave me a tearaway outfit and I didn’t even realize. These fuckers are going to pay when this is all over...

Jaskier nearly missed a line in his song, those blue eyes too busy scanning hungrily over Geralt’s chest and abdomen. The anxious horse-trainer was glad he spent so much time at the gym (and lifting haybales when no one else wanted to) because the brunette was pretty cute himself, and Geralt didn’t mind the attention he was getting at the moment.

He suffered through the rest of the musical number, pushed and pulled around the dancefloor and even once behind the bar by the dancers and Jaskier. When it all ended and the crowd resumed their drinking and dancing, Geralt found himself with a large drink in his hand and a new, far more comfortable black t-shirt.

“Sorry about that little misunderstanding,” Jaskier frowned, sitting down next to him on one of the plush barstools. “Your brothers told me you were prepared but clearly they lied. If I’d known you didn’t sign up for that yourself, I wouldn’t have used you as my volunteer at all; consent is really important around here, especially to me.”

“It’s alright,” Geralt gave a lopsided grin. “It was actually kind of fun. You have a great singing voice.”

“Oh, why thank you,” the half-stranger’s blue eyes fluttered. “Your drinks are on the house for the rest of the night, just so you know.”

“Thanks. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. You’re hot,” the brunette smirked. “And I hear you’re great with horses. Want to hang out some time when we’re not at work or inebriated?”

“Yeah. That would be great. Maybe then we can take your shirt off this time.”

[sohannabarberaesque]

And you thought The Crimson Haybaler from Wacky Races was weird enow as it was....

[edsonjnovaes]

Los autos locos

Los Autos Locos es una serie animada producida por Hanna-Barbera que constó de 34 episodios con una duración de 10 minutos cada uno y fue inspirada en el film La carrera del siglo. Doblaje Wiki Nº 1 “El Rocomóvil” (Boulder Mobile) La serie hacía parodia a las carreras de autos, y a su vez estas eran de lo mas alocadas y bizarras. Tuvo algo único en su clase pues los antagonistas (Pierre…

[citaelcuervo]

Red Max on the crimson haybaler 161/365 #illustration #drawingoftheday #artistoninstagram #art #character #characterdesign #art #digitalart #digitalpainting #drawing #painting #fanart #wackyraces #hannabarbera #redmax #thecrimsonhaybaler #animated #race #car #autoslocos

[gameabledisneypodcast]

Episode 15: Wacky Races

If you like cool cars and funny voices (but not coherent stories), gaming Wacky Races might be for you! This week, we discuss the "plots" of this undeservedly beloved Hanna-Barbera classic, then play a Wacky Race of our own using a streamlined version of Blacktop RPG. Grab your Crimson Haybaler and enjoy! Check out the episode here!

[pulpsandcomics2]

The Crimson Haybaler

[sohannabarberaesque]

Moth Mondays with the Funtastic World of Hanna-Barbera: The Red Max (as per the #4 Crimson Haybaler) per Wacky Races

Setting aside the obnoxious German-accented voice and absurd stunts calling to mind World War I aviation epics, we find perhaps Dick Dastardly’s own worst rival in absurdity having something of a wanderlust-filled side perhaps reflecting on his own Germanic background:

It was a few years ago when I headed to The Original Oktoberfest back in Munich ... and while there are countless imitators worldwide, especially that infamous one from a certain La Crosse, Wisconsin as had to be toned down seriously when things got too obnoxious for even my fellow Wacky Racer, Dick Dastardly, to get caught up in, Munich’s (which originally started as a wedding reception for some Bavarian princess) is the genuine article; make no mistake. And to think such a gigantic beer festival as the Oktoberfest can happen so close to downtown Munich on a field known as the Theresienwiese which otherwise can be said to be fallow most of the year.

But it turned out to be a rather wet, misty early-fall afternoon on “der Wiezn,” as Munichers are fond of referring to the Oktoberfest ground ... and a little on the cool side. Enough to drive me over to the tent section and check out one of the more obscure, smaller even, tents serving the classic Bavarian schtick, as in roast half-chicken with potato pancakes--and we couldn’t forget the rather potent Oktoberfest beer endemic to Munich’s festival of festivals; “when in Rome” and all that. It was around midday, for the most part, and you could get a decent Oktoberfest tent lunch for a decent price, even with the rides area shut down on account of the rain.

Yet I keep getting amazed how it is that, even with the portable heaters brought in, the Oktoberfest tents have managed to avoid serious fires, even the tents of the six major breweries of Munich whose wares are exclusively permitted to be sold on “der Weizn”. Even if the beer gets a little strong ... yet the chicken arrives, dripping in its own roaster juices and having something of an aroma to it rivalled by my great-great-grandmother’s sauerbraten. 

It’s definitely NOT the Colonel Sanders kind, definitely requiring knife and fork to get into the dish ... whose juiciness must be something typically Oktoberfest, bless your slogan-bedecked gingerbread hearts (another Oktoberfest tradition, even if the messages tend to the kitschy and saccharine). And what could be more interesting than to have some of the drippings from the roast chicken serve as a sort of dip for the potato pancakes, rather crispy with a hint of chopped onion?

Once back in the Wiezn, the steady drizzle seemed to keep dampening things to a sort of chill that maybe some coffee could warm further. Which it did, by way of an “old school” confectionery stand legendary for serving typically Bavarian pancakes with plum sauce and whose coffee was said to be an Oktoberfest legend just before the last call for orders. Sometimes, I have to acknowledge, coffee and drizzly afternoons must have been made for each other.

Even absent the traditional lederhosen otherwise seen as Oktoberfest’s official dress, and not being seen as a fool.

“... and that’s the story from The Moth”

(The preceding is an independent fanfic feature having no official connexion or association with The Moth. For more information, please to visit their website ... and tune in to The Moth Radio Hour weekends on your local public radio station; check your local radio listings for the day and time.)