Counting Crows
By: iamCAMBRIA
Hallo guys, this is a story that is dedicated to the fantabulous FantasyDreamer244. It is based off of her story the Misadventures of Fanty and Pitch Black. Yes it is a FantyxPitch story, and yes I did get her permission to write it. I'm not a creeper, sheesh. Um...as we all know Fanty owns Fanty, Drago belongs to dragoscilvio, Mystic belongs to Mystichawk, Star belongs to Starskulls, Xion belongs to Xion5, and Angel belongs to Lil Angel 927.
Yeah...Skjoldureik belongs to me. Sorry Fanty, couldn't resist the cameo.
I hope you enjoy...I tried...I really did!
(remember...this story is based off of Fanty's...what, y'all got that already? Okay...just making sure!)
Chaptah ze First: What's ze Problemo?
The sun was out and about, its gleaming, glowing rays dancing happily on the warm gray concrete. As the breeze whistled through the friendly atmosphere of the park, the tree leaves fluttered and flapped like thousands of birds ready for flight. Looking up, bright chocolatey brown eyes gazed at the sk. The eyes closing, the owner of them lifted her chin and hummed deeply.
It was a gorgeous day.
Her smile fading a bit, Fanty sighed and opened her eyes. It was a beautiful day, and there was no one home to share it with her. Drago was on the road again, Angel—who baby sat the Bennett kids—took them and their mom to a movie, Mystic was out doing…"Mystic" things, Star was at work too, and Xion was out at work. Normally, she would never be this melancholy, but today was special.
Fanty wanted to have a Nerf gun war, today. But everyone knows that no one can have a Nerf gun war with only one player. So instead, she'd gone to Wal-Mart and bought groceries; groceries that were to be put in brown paper bags. And everyone knows, you always use brown bags. But Wallyworld had been fresh out of paper bags, so Fanty resorted to using double plastic bags. Because you always double bag.
Dramatically sighing, she tried to push away her exaggerated loneliness from the forefront of her mind. Instead, she thought of her very dear friend, the Boogeyman. It'd been a couple of weeks since their very fruitful of restoring Pitch Black's powers, and she'd seen very little (none) of the Spirit of Fear. He should've at least popped by for a pop-by. She shrugged. At least she could finally ask, whenever he came, if he'd give her a Nightmare to call her own so she could ride it around town, waving a Nerf gun in the air.
No one should be denied of a Nerf gun war, she realized; nothing ever good comes of it.
Tilting her head to the side, Fanty gave way to the breeze a bit. It peppered her tanned cheeks and neck with light kisses. The wind left chilly little streaks over her, letting her know that fall was on the way. She smiled, knowing Pitch's reaction.
Pitch looked up from the couch and groaned.
"Fall is almost here!"
Fanty looked over at him from her place in the kitchen where she was stuffing her face with strawberry cupcakes. Pitch shot her an annoyed look. Rolling her eyes, she swallowed the last bit.
"Dude, stop sulking; it makes you look like the vampire guy from Twilight."
He had snorted. "It's very hard to keep a chipper attitude, Fanty, when your arch nemesis' time of strength is quickly approaching."
Fanty raspberried. "Pfft, you're so melodramatic! Mellow out! Jack's hardly your archenemy."
Easy for you to say, my dear." Pitch jeered. "I'm sure you would take the side of a perpetually eighteen winter sprite."
The Nightmare King was more than a little surprised at the faceful of jelly beans. He spluttered indignantly, trying to wipe away the colorful little demons from his eyes and nostrils. Fanty raised another hand, loaded with the sweet heathens.
"Be departed from your foul words!" She mocked with a grin. "Besides, perpetually eighteen isn't my type."
"Oh, and what would be your type?" Pitch asked innocently.
"Um, tall, leather-clad, and dark."
"Really?" The Nightmare King grinned smugly.
Fanty titled her head in slight confusion.
The smug smickity-smeck smirked even wider.
It took her about two seconds to understand why her friends was being so leering. Pitch yelped as he fell off the couch under another bombardment of jelly beans. The pelting was relentless.
"Uncle! Uncle!" He shouted from the floor.
Fanty smiled shrewdly. "Nope, not a chance. And you get to pick up all the jelly beans!"
"You pubescent witch!"
A rainbow of sugar-freeness flew across the room.
Fanty yelped in surprise as she collided with a person. Sprawled out on the grassy floor was a black haired, copper-skinned girl who looked like she'd walked out of a rodeo and into a punk rock concert. A black cowboy hat with gold trimming fell to the ground and black glasses leaned off her nose. Her checkered gold and purple shirt-vest had a water stain on it that seeped all the way down to her white washed jeans. Her black cowboy boots and her flowered hobo bag were surrounded by a flurry of paper.
Fanty dove to the ground immediately, trying to catch the girl's papers before they blew away. The girl squeaked and side rolled, grabbing as many papers as she could. It became a race against nature.
"I'm so sorry!" Fanty piped up. "I wasn't paying attention."
"No, no, no!" The other smiled breathlessly. "Totes my fault! I was in a rush! I hope you didn't get a grass stain on your t-shirt. I like it!"
Fanty's t-shirt happened to be a picture of Captain America pointing at all of the world, demanding that he needed them.
"It'll be fine!" Fanty grinned. "Nothing a little RO water won't take care of."
"Oh thank Mahal!" the girl grinned, gathering her papers in her arms. "I'm Skjoldureik!"
"I'm Fanty, nice to meet you!"
"'Tis a pleasure I will relish!" She cheeped, donning her hat.
Skjoldureik stood up quickly with the help of her newfound friend. "I gots to skedaddle, I'm late for an editor's meeting. See ya 'round!"
"Have fun!" Fanty called after her.
The girl gave a gracious nod before running off again. Skjoldureik nearly tripped again, but stumbled on. Her short choppy black hair fluttering in the wind like a wild mane.
Fanty cocked her head to the side. "I hope I didn't make her late."
In a much better mood, though, she skipped all the way to her apartment complex. How she'd managed to hold her groceries through that whole adventure, one might ask? Well, the answer was quite simple: she's just that awesome.
Pushing the doors open, Fanty was greeted by the warm air of the front lobby. Mr. Joyce, the landlord, looked up from the front desk. He smiled, his pudgy cheeks forming merry dimples. She returned with an equally cheerful smile.
"Afternoon, Ms. Fanty; how's your afternoon been?" He asked.
"Absolutely boring until about five minutes ago."
"What did you do?"
"I crashed into some poor girl." She admitted sheepishly.
"Knowing you, you probably were daydreaming." He chuckled.
Fanty sniggered. "Ay, you know me too well Mr. Joyce!"
"Take care!" He called to her, returning his attention to his computer screen.
She nodded amiably before looking at the notice board on the opposite wall. Stapled quite neatly—impressively neatly—was a lacy black sheet of paper. Instantly Fanty knew who it belonged to, for it could only be one person. The note read in lovely white calligraphy:
Hello my lovelies,
I just wanted to let all tenets know that I will be hosting our first annual Prank Competition in honor of the upcoming festival of Halloween. The contest will last a week starting on Monday. That gives you peasants two days to plan. Use your time wisely. The winner of the contest shall receive a free…free-something-to-be-determined-at-a-later-date. Now be off and think of something creative.
Ta-ta. ~Xion
Fanty giggled. She loved pranks. She loved prank contests even more. So many ideas began bubbling in her head like Mentos to a Coke. Oh ho ho, she would be getting that free whatever-it-was for sure. She would triumph.
With a skip in her step, she bounded to the elevators. Ed Sheeran was playing and Fanty hummed along as she pressed her floor number. Tapping her foot on the nicely tiled floor, she listened to the dingin noise and the music. The ascent halted shortly after and Fanty jumped out of the car with a 'boop'. She walked down the hall, passing Angel's and Drago's door before arriving at her own. She slipped her hand into her pocket (still holding the groceries, mind you) and pulled out her key.
The moment she opened the door, her spider sense went-a-tingling. On her living room sofa, a body was splayed out. Dropping the bags and grabbing the squishy, bright orange Nerf baseball bat that resided by the door, she charged the figure with a scream that Robin Williams would be jealous of.
The figure looked up from the magazine he had been reading. Fanty's brown eyes met with the amused bright gold ones.
"Did you know, Fanty, that the National Review is a Republican magazine? I thought it was Democratic."
Grunting, Fanty whalloped him on the head with the bat. "Darn you to heck."
"Ow," Pitch muttered, rubbing the top of his head.
She smacked him again. "Two weeks. No visit, no Nerf gun war, and you made me drop fifty dollars' worth of groceries. Whatch'ya gonna do, mister?"
Pitch Black decided now was a very good time to be contrite.