Cherry: Here's a fic I wrote about a few years ago. I just uploaded it since my family is just coming into the age of technology and getting the Internet. -sighs- It's a funny little fic, one I wrote at midnight on a bit of a sugar high, so forgive me if it's a little, um, crazy at times.....Reviews are much appreciated! ^_^

****

Yamcha woke up one morning feeling like crap. His head was pounding and his body ached all over. He got dressed at a leisurely pace and headed into the kitchen.

"Pu'ar!" he yelled. "I got the munchies real fuckin' bad! Come make me some eggs! Please?"

Pu'ar popped up out of nowhere (as she usually tends to do) and heated up the stove.

"Would you like your eggs scrambled?" she asked.

"Yes please! Oh, and can I have some coffee and bacon too?"

"Yes to the coffee, no to the bacon." she replied

"But...but why?" he whimpered.

"Because we have no bacon." she explained.

"So go out and but some." he whined.

"This is gonna be a long day." she sighed.

* 15 Minutes Later *

Fifteen minutes ago, Yamcha had bolted down his entire breakfast. Now, he lay facedown on the couch with a killer stomachache.

"Pu'ar! Come rub my back!" he moaned.

Pu'ar hovered in. She put her paws on Yamcha's back, but quickly pulled away.

"Yamcha! you're burning up!"

"Nuh-uh."

"Yes you are. I think you may have a fever. I think I'll take your temp to be safe."

"No, really, Pu'ar. You don't need to...I'm fine."

"Nonsense. I'll go get the baby thermometer and the petroleum jelly."

Yamcha rolled over and slung a hand over his face.

"I hate being sick..." he groaned.

Pu'ar floated back in brandishing the thermometer of doom.

"My only advice is to think warm thoughts..." she said, rolling Yamcha back over. "...because this thermometer is really cold."

* 5 minutes of thrashing and cussing later *

"Just as I thought. You're running a temp." Pu'ar murmured.

Yamcha was lying on his back, a look of pained torture and anguish painted across his face.

"What's the verdict?" he winced.

"One hundred point five." she declared.

"That's all?"

"Your average body temperature is about ninety-eight degrees. Anything a degree above is considered a fever."

"Two degrees. TWO MEASLY DEGREES??? You put me through all that torture for two FUCKIN' DEGREES OVER???" he barked angrily, his voice slowly rising.

"Yamcha, look. It wasn't that bad..."

"What do you know?? You're not the one having a ramrod jammed up your--"

"Yamcha! Just lay down and rest."

"How can I--" he trailed off miserably as his stomach roared angrily. His face turned a pale green. "...I think I'll just lay down." he concluded, swallowing back a mouthful of acrid bile.

Pu'ar looked at him with the utmost pity.

"Oh...just make yourself cozy."

Yamcha kicked off his shoes and snuggled down into the couch.

"Pu'ar, I'm chilly." he whimpered.

Pu'ar pulled a blanket down from the top of the couch and covered him up.

"Now I'll go make you some chicken noodle soup."

"Uh...Pu'ar...?"

"Yes?"

"Could...could you strain the chicken and noodles out and put them in a separate bowl, please?"

"But Yamcha, then you'd just have the broth."

"Pleeeeaaase?" he pouted irresistibly, giving her his infamous 'pity me for not only am I a moron, but I am a sick moron' look.

"Oh fine." she smiled.

*

Pu'ar stood in the kitchen, stirring the soup with a ladle.

"Pu'ar..."

Pu'ar turned around. Yamcha was standing in the kitchen doorway, and he looked pretty horrible.

"Oh, Yamcha...Go lay down. You're ill."

"He stood still as a stone, swaying slightly.

"I think...I think I'm gonna...I'm gonna..."

"Yes?"

"I-I...I-- HWOARRRRRRRG!!!!!" he hurled miserably, the bile splashing across the kitchen floor. He retched and retched until all he had was dry heaves. He looked up, his face red with embarrassment and his knees shaking.

Pu'ar set down the ladle and sighed.

"Great. Juuuuust great."

*

By the time she had finished cleaning up after Yamcha, the soup Pu'ar was making was all done. She carefully strained out the noodles and chicken and brought the ensemble into Yamcha. Truth be told, he looked much worse than he had a half hour ago. His face was ashen pale save for his cheeks, which burned bright red. But he still forced a smile and propped himself up on his pillows. He took the bowls with shaking hands.

"Thanks." he grinned feebly.

"Your stomach feeling any better?" she asked.

"Better out than in." he joked bitterly, taking a sip of his steaming hot soup. "OW!! FUCK!!!" he cussed, fanning his tongue.

"What?" Pu'ar asked.

"My soup bit me..." he sniffled.

Pu'ar laughed at his unique definition of being burnt. She gently stroked his face with a smile. She paused suddenly and turned the corners of her mouth down in a worried frown.

"You feel warmer than you did an hour ago...much warmer...Maybe I should take your temp again just to be sure..." she uttered.

"NO! No, no, no, no...no! I-I'm fine. Really."

"Well, I don't know..." she started. "Oh fine." she finally caved.

Seeming contented with this news, Yamcha chugged down his soup and slogged down his noodles.

"Yamcha..." Pu'ar chided. "You shouldn't eat so fast or you'll you throw up again."

"Heh." Yamcha laughed bitterly. "I don't think I have anything more to throw up."

Pu'ar gave him a quick pat on the head and gathered up the bowls.

"I'm going to go wash the dishes. You stay here and rest."

Yamcha nodded.

"Okay. Oh, Pu'ar, could you get me the remote? I wanna watch TV."

"Alright."

Pu'ar grabbed the remote and tossed it to Yamcha.

"Thanks." he smiled.

"Anytime." she whispered.

As Pu'ar floated out into the kitchen, Yamcha clicked on the TV. There wasn't much on the TV. Only wrestling and brightly colored cartoons. He settled on the cartoons and hunkered down under the blankets. He slung his arm over his forehead, as he often did when he was resting. He could feel that he was burning up, but it was strange. Although his head felt hot enough to fry an egg, inside he was cold, so cold...15 minutes into the show, the colors began to blend into the sounds. He shivered, starting to feel giddy and light-headed...

Pu'ar had finished the dishes and had moved onto sweeping the floor. She could hear Yamcha in the background singing his own rendition of 'Dancing Queen.'

"...Dancin' bean...dancin' bean...feel the touch of my tangeriiii-iiine..."

Judging by the amount of thumping and crashing, he was doing the accompanying dance as well. Pu'ar floated in to try and calm him down. He was wearing only his shorts, and wrapped around his neck was a blanket fashioned as a cape. His face was red and sweaty and he had a silly grin plastered across his face.

"Yamcha...you need to lay down. When you move about like that, you raise your temperature. You're only making yourself sicker." she chided.

Yamcha frowned.

"No, no, no! Bad boy! Don' wanna lay down. Wanna dance! Yippee!!" he chorused, swinging around in a sad sort of dance.

Pu'ar sighed, figuring she would have to try a different approach.

"Yamcha, sweetie...that was a pretty dance, but you need to rest now."

Yamcha looked like he was deciding what to do.

"Hmmm...Okay. I go sleepy now. Night-night, kitty." he giggled feverishly, pirouetting over to the couch and collapsing on the cushions.

Pu'ar floated over and smiled as she stroked his face.

"Shh...go nap-nap now." she whispered.

Yamcha gleamed and nodded, cuddling up and closing his eyes, and then finally drifting off to sleep.

The silence was short-lived, however. About 10 minutes later, Yamcha came staggering into the kitchen. He had the same delirious smile wiped across his face. Pu'ar was sitting on the counter, eating a box of cat treats.

"Yamcha..." she mumbled around a mouthful of the crunchy treats, "Go lay back down on the couch and get some rest.."

Yamcha eyed the box.

"Yamcha wan' some yummies too." he pleaded, sticking out his lower lip out in his trademark irresistible pout, complete with puppy eyes.

"I can't. These aren't for human beings."

"I like human beans too!"

"No Yamcha I--"

"Give me some human beans as well!" he demanded adamantly.

In the end, Pu'ar ended up having to give him some to get him to go lay back down. He went over to the couch and curled up in a ball in the middle and purred. Not to mention he had also taken a pot out of the cupboard and was wearing it as a hat.

"Yamcha." she spoke.

"Meow?" he inquired

"Give me the pot. It's not a hat." she said, reaching out for it.

Yamcha hissed and batted at her paw.

"Fine." she sighed, not wanting to stir him up. "I think I should probably take your temp again." she continued.

Yamcha made a tiny whine in his throat. Delirious or not, 'temp' had only one meaning. The thermometer of doom.

Pu'ar floated in waving the thermometer.

"Roll over." she instructed.

"No." he protested.

Pu'ar grabbed a hold of him and tried to roll him over. He thrashed about, and lashed out with his hand, knocking the thermometer to the ground. It hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

"Oh..." Pu'ar moaned. "Now I'll have to go get the other one..." she grumbled, retreating back to the bathroom medicine cabinet.

"You have two...?" Yamcha lamented.

Pu'ar returned with a digital thermometer in her hand.

"Open up and say 'Ah.'" she directed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa...why didn't you use that the first time?' he questioned.

"Oh...er...well, I didn't think of it and besides...the other way gives a more accurate reading." she dictated, shoving the thermometer into his mouth.

"Mmmph grrmmm nfffft?" he asked around the thermometer.

"Don't talk, you'll mess up the reading." she said, pushing on the thermometer. A few moments later, she removed the thermometer and checked the reading. She gasped in horror.

"Oh my..." she uttered.

"What? What? me wants to see the piccy..." he pleaded.

"You...your temp is 102.3..." she managed, not bothering to correct him.

"Me no like that radio station..." he grumbled. "Change it."

"It's not a radio station...it's you body temp...Kami, it's gotten high." she muttered.

"Am...am I gonna die?" he asked shakily, with all the innocence of a child.

"No, you won't...hopefully. But it sure explains your stranger-than-normal actions." she explained.

"Oh...okay." he said, rolling over to go back to sleep.

"You should be fine if you get lots of fluid and plenty of rest."

"Kay."

Inwardly, Pu'ar was worried. His temp climbed awful high in only a few hours. The numbers didn't lie...not often. 102.3 was high, but not deadly. If it got over 103, then she would have to seriously worry. She took a pitcher of juice out of the refrigerator and poured a tall glass of the fruity beverage. She set it on the stand next to the couch. Yamcha looked up at her and smiled.

"Thank you, likkle kitty." he thanked her.

"Any time." she grinned.

She turned around, heading back to the kitchen. She sat at the table, reading a newspaper. And then she moved to a magazine. she spent over a peaceful hour reading. She knew she should probably get some sleep while she still could, but she just couldn't fall asleep. But soon, her exhaustion betrayed her. She began nodding off when she heard from the other room Yamcha's distinct wail. She hovered in and looked at him with eyes full of question and concern.

"Oh...what is it sweetie?" she asked, her small voice full of concern.

"Had a bad dream...bad, bad, dream... " he whined.

Pu'ar looked at him with pity and stroked his face.

"Shhh...go back to bed." she said, too tired to respond properly. She turned around and began to leave, but Yamcha whimpered, so she turned around and look at him. "What?"

"No, no, no! Bad kitty! Don' leave me all 'lone..." he pleaded

Pu'ar sighed and dropped down by the couch.

"Okay, okay. I won't leave you." she said, running her hands through his short hair. "It's okay...it was just a dream. Now, let's think of something nice. What shall we dream of?" she asked.

"Porridge." he smirked, cuddling down.

Oh, how she loved him. He was so sweet. Then, he blew his nose on the duvet comforter he was sleeping under. The blanket was absolutely covered in mucus. Who would have thought one man could produce so much snot? She sighed and changed the blanket, and while she was at it, got Yamcha into a luke warm bath. It would help knock down his temp a few degrees. He thought that 'please work with me' was the name of some sort of a game and by the end of the bath, Pu'ar was more wet than Yamcha. Then she tried to get him into some half-way decent jim-jams. Key word tried. He seemingly felt the same way about his PJs as he did about the bath. After some struggling, she got him fully dressed and covered. He went to bed very quickly, probably exhausted. She sighed, figuring that the worst was behind them. Oh, if only she knew.

*

She must have fallen asleep next to Yamcha, because she woke up halfway through the night wedged between Yamcha and the backing of the couch. He was panting and then sat up, wheezing.

"Mmmm...waz wrong?" she yawned.

"I think...I think...I'm gonna hurl..." he groaned, clutching his stomach. That remark woke her up instantly like a shock of cold water.

"Oh, Kami...hold on, Yamcha sweetie." she groaned.

She hopped up and floated quickly to the kitchen, pulling a bucket out of the closet. She hurried back in and got the bucket next to the couch just in time. Yamcha leaned over and retched loudly, half of it getting into the bucket, half of it splattering onto the floor around it. Pu'ar sighed, and then figured at least it wasn't the full wave she was cleaning up. She sighed, cleaning the gooey mess up carefully as Yamcha lay on the couch moaning, his hand still clamped on his stomach. She placed a few towels around the bucket and gave Yamcha some crackers to calm his stomach. Well, they came back up with a vengeance. She pet his head and spoke soothing words to calm his nerves. But it wasn't that easy. He didn't seem able to keep anything down, not even the medicine she gave him. She resorted to giving him simply a glass of cold water, which he promptly vomited up. Now she was worried. If he kept going at this rate, he'd become severely dehydrated. She took his temp again and nearly fainted. It was 104.3, which was critically high. Why did it keep climbing? She sighed, figuring she'd call the doctor in the morning. In the end, she stayed up with him all night. She must have wiped his mouth off a dozen times and changed the blankets, and his jim-jams for that matter, about two or three times. It was not an easy night by a long shot. She was just so tired....

"You're so damn lucky you're a Z Fighter. Normal people would have been hospitalized by now."

"Hahaha...Me so special..." he gleamed, right before he threw up again.

*

She must have fallen asleep again during the night. She woke up at about ten in the morning, and figured it was time to call the doctors. Yamcha was snoring loudly, and had cuddled up with her like she was a stuffed animal or something. His body was burning hot, and he was beginning to drool on Pu'ar's head. She wormed out from under him, and picked up the phone to make an appointment. She figured it would seem awfully strange if she called in her squeaky voice, so she tried to lower it a few notches. She called the doctors office and explained the symptoms. The doctor on the other end seemed flabbergasted that Yamcha was a) not in the hospital and b) still alive. But he made an appointment for her to bring him in ASAP. She put down the receiver and froze. How was she gonna get him there? He was to out of it to drive and she was too short unless...She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She strolled over to the couch and shook Yamcha lightly.

"C'mon. We're gonna go see the doctor now."

"Yes now, more please." he whispered.

"First things first." she said.

With a puff of smoke, she transformed into a human form. Her waist long hair was the same shade of azure blue her fur was. She had sparkling dark blue eyes and a pretty good figure. Yamcha's eyes bulged wide as dinner plates. Pu'ar blinked, but soon realized why. She had forgot to shapeshift any clothes on. She quickly morphed some clothes on and put her hands on her hips.

"Well, let's go."

"Hahahaha...do it again!" Yamcha cheered.

Pu'ar rolled her eyes and hefted Yamcha up. He was not a light one. It was mostly his muscles though, that weighted him down. She groaned under his weight and shuffled out to the car. She managed to shift him around so that she could open the door and pop him in the seat. She jogged around to the other side of the car and hopped in, turning on the ignition. Then, she remembered that since she hadn't driven in quite some time, she'd forgotten how to.

"I'm sure I'll pick it up quickly. All Yamcha ever does is put his foot on a pedal and yell at other cars..." she concluded nervously. But lo and behold, she was right. It did come back to her rather easily. About halfway to the doctor's office Yamcha made a small whimpering noise in his throat.

"Kitty...I don' feel so good..." he groaned, as his stomach roared in agreement.

Pu'ar leaned over to the dashboard and pulled out a brown paper bag and handed it to him.

"Here." she said.

Yamcha looked at the bag for awhile. "It's not working!" he complained.

"I know." she said. "It won't. But if you get sick, get sick in there." she said, stabbing her finger out at the bag.

"... ... ...'Kay." he pouted.

As predicted, thirty seconds later he did get sick. Luckily, he got sick in the bag. He whined piteously and leaned back. All Pu'ar could do was wonder how much one man could possibly puke up. They drove into the parking lot about five minutes later. Pu'ar walked over and undid the door and picked Yamcha up. She tossed the bag away in a dustbin outside of the office. She continued in to the waiting room, but didn't have to wait long. The doctor was waiting for them and quickly shepherded them into his office. After the doctor finished his prodding and long string of 'I see', he left the office.

"Yamcha no like this place. It smells funny." he declared, still very delirious.

Pu'ar shushed him and gave him a quick pat. "It's okay, we're almost ready to go home." she assured him. No sooner had she spoke, did the doctor come in. He was brandishing a big bottle of pills, and a smaller bottle of fluid.

"Give him the pills three times a day until he gets better. The fluid should be given twice; Once when he gets up in the morning, once before he goes to bed."

"I tried to give him medicine, but he can't keep anything down."

"I know. But these should go down and stay down nicely." he explained.

Pu'ar smiled and paid the man, and then left with Yamcha. He slept the whole car ride home, and when she dragged him in the house and set him up on the couch, he still stayed asleep. She looked at the bottles in hand and felt her paws shaking as she looked at the twin flasks. Two medications...would it really help? She hoped so. Yamcha whimpered and thrashed in his sleep, crying out occasionally. Pu'ar curled up next to his burning body, exhausted from the day's events.

She woke up early in the morning, it was scarcely 1:47am. Yamcha was sitting bolt upright, wheezing heavily, his chest heaving. Nothing to worry about puke-wise, he had nothing left in his stomach. Tears streamed down his face as he coughed and gagged, his hands wrapped around his torso.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Pu'ar crooned.

"Dry...heaves..." he managed to say around all the wheezing. "My chest hurts...so...bad..."

"Shhh...I know sweetie. It hurts. Just try to get some rest." she consoled. He said nothing, but looked at her with tear-filled eyes. Eventually though, he did get to sleep.

Pu'ar woke up early next morning, cuddled against Yamcha's chest. He was sweating up a storm and seemed hotter than usual. He had tear tracks down his face and his visage seemed frozen in a painful frown. She edged out from underneath him, and his arm slipped down, the jostling movement waking him. He glanced at her, his face all red. Pu'ar looked at him with worry. She figured it was time to get him some meds for the day. She first gave him the pills, and then the meds straight after. She gave him a small glass of water along with the medication and told him to lay down.

"You just lay here, Yamcha dear. Try and rest."

He nodded slightly and closed his eyes slightly, the delirium still dancing about his brain. Pu'ar went out into the kitchen and began to read a magazine. About fifteen minutes later, when she was halfway through the mag, she heard a soft pad-pad of footsteps in the kitchen. She looked over her book and saw Yamcha standing there. She couldn't help noticing that although he was wearing his holiday sunglasses (A/N: you know, the ones with little foam palm trees and toucan...the kind that four-year-old wear), he wasn't wearing anything else. It was like a train wreck, you don't really don't wanna stare, but you just can't look away. She set down her book and looked at him oddly.

"Yamcha dearie, go and put on some pants."

He stood there pouting.

"It's too hot. Don' wanna wear no clothes. Tooooooo hot." he whimpered.

She groaned. She had just given him the medicine to take down his temp. She figured it just hadn't kicked in yet. She managed to coax him into a pair of PJs at long last and got him to lay back down on the couch. He curled up and looked at her feebly. He was just so weak and pitiful, it was heart-wrenching. Over the next few days, despite all the medication he taking, his condition was deteriorating. He got so feverish that he no longer giggled like a child, his brain was baked past that point. He only was awake for a few hours a day and some days, he slept the whole time. Pu'ar poked the fluids to him and even gave him a little solid food. He was too weak to stand and constantly had to be cleaned up after. The days were like one perpetual trip to the bathroom. Finally, at one point, Pu'ar got a break. She went to the kitchen and began to read her favorite book. But, of course, she dozed off, exhausted due to taking care of Yamcha all week. It wasn't long before she heard a soft thump come from the other room. She rushed in only to come across a horrifying sight. Yamcha was laying on the floor his face broken out bright red. He looked up at her sadly and closed his eyes, his head dropping to the floor. Pu'ar rushed to the phone and picked it up, hastily dialing up the hospital. She had barely enough time to transform to a human shape before the ambulance came. She cradled Yamcha's head in her arms and sang to him in a soft voice, praying to Kami he would turn out all right...

*

It pained Pu'ar to see Yamcha in such a condition. He had an IV hooked up to his right hand and an oxygen mask strapped over his face. The whole gang had been by to see him, but he had been asleep at the time. He was still asleep now, the rise and fall of his chest being the only movement he made. She had to be careful to transform into a human every time the nurse came by, seeing as animals weren't allowed in the hospital. She was in the transformed state sitting in the chair looking down at him with worry. His face twitched and his eyes opened slowly. He smiled up at her weakly and closed his eyes again. Pu'ar smiled and stroked his face. She sighed, worried about him. She knew his fever was going down, but she still worried all day long. Yamcha whimpered suddenly and began to thrash left and right. A shrill scream ripped free of his throat and he bucked about, his eyes wide and glassy. It was like he was in a trance-like state. Pu'ar put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. She leaned over, her azure blue hair spilling over onto his face. he seemed to settle down, still twitching. A nurse came bounding in, panting. She looked at him and then at Pu'ar.

"What happened?"

"I...dunno. He just started spazing out. He was screaming and thrashing and...it freaked the hell outta me..." Pu'ar managed.

"Another fever pitch...third one so far...better give him a bit more medicine." she muttered, shuffling out of the room and down the hall. Pu'ar stroked Yamcha's face and sang to him in a soft broken voice.

"Hush little baby...don't say a word...mama's gonna...buy you a ....mocking bird. If that mocking bird won't sing...mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring..." she whispered. She bent down and gave him a tiny kiss on the cheek. He opened his eyes again and a small smile crawled over his lips. Pu'ar sighed and relaxed, leaning back in the chair. The nurse came bustling back in, holding a fresh IV bag and a bottle of medicine. She swapped the IVs and pried open Yamcha's mouth, pouring in the medicine. he whimpered and made a horrible face and then went back to a relaxed position. The nurse looked over at Pu'ar.

"Miss...visiting hours are over." she said

Pu'ar looked up. "I don't care. I'm staying. He needs me."

The nurse smiled. "I understand. Would you like a blanket or a pillow?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

The nurse nodded and left, wandering out of the room.

Of course you understand...I've only said the same thing for the last two days...she thought, snuggling into the chair. "At least you're comfy." she said, shooting a glance at Yamcha. She closed her eyes, keeping one ear turned to listen...just in case.

*

"Is it true? Is it true what they say?" Yamcha asked, now able to stay awake most of the day.

Pu'ar nodded, now floating at his bedside in her original sate. "Yep. One more week. Estimated, of course. Damn good thing you had that medical insurance." she commented, letting her paw graze his cheek.

"Heh. If your a fighter, you need it. Wow...just another week. I can't wait to get back home and..." he spoke, breaking of suddenly and staring out the window happily. Pu'ar smiled. She couldn't wait either. She just wanted things to be back to normal. He smiled and lay back down, looking softly over at Pu'ar.

"I loved your transformation...why don't you stay like that more often?" he asked.

Pu'ar blushed. "Too taxing on the energy management. Plus...what's wrong with me now?"

"Nothing." he murmured. "Nothing at all."

Pu`ar sighed, all she wanted was for him to be comfy and happy. The gang had been over again and they had stayed to talk a bit. Yamcha had brushed the experience as nothing at all, an the gang seemed to believe him. Why wouldn't they? He seemed so vigorous and happy...Pu'ar thought, looking down into Yamcha's smiling face. It would be alright; everything would be okay...

*

"Hahahahahahahaha!!! It feels so great to be back!" Yamcha said, kicking open the door. He jogged in and collapsed on the couch, laughing all the way. Pu'ar floated in after him, also overjoyed that they were both back. Everything would just go back to normal now...no, things were normal now.

"I'm glad you're back too." she smiled. She curled up on his lap purring, a habit she had developed quite some time ago. Yamcha scratched her behind the ears, smiling slightly. "Just remember" she started, "what the doctors said."

"Yeah, yeah..." Yamcha muttered. "If experience any of the symptoms to go to the doctors unless I wanna end up curled up in a fetal position crying for my mommy."

"Well, I don't think they worded it that way but...close enough." she purred, snuggling into his chest. From now on, everything would be okay. That is, of course, unless he got sick again. But that didn't seem likely...or did it? Nah....

END

Cherry: Well, that's it; the end. I've been working on a sequel, due to commission of my friends who said they would beat me if I didn't. They scare me some days. Do you want to see a humorous sequel? Have a gripe? Like my work? Let me know in a review! Until next time...Ja Ne!