Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. I know it's hard to believe but it's true.

Has it ever occurred to anyone that some people really shouldn't be mutants. I mean, we're all perfect, exempt for Nudge. For some dumb-butt reason she didn't like being a mutant Bird-Kid. Weird, huh. Well, anyways, since she's been talking about getting them removed again, I decided to take her to a surgeon who knows what the heck they're doing.

"So, tell me," the surgeon asked. "why do you want to have surgery? You seem perfectly healthy." Nudge took a deep breath and said,

"I want my wings removed." The surgeon didn't seem to understand.

"Wings?" He said, perplexed.

"Yes, wings." Nudge told him. The surgeon looked at me.

"Are you her sister or something? Where are her parents?"

"Actually," I said, wondering whether this was normal. "I'm as close to parents as she has."

The Surgeon looked at her. Hard. Then he asked,

"How old are you?"

"I don't really know." I said truthfully. I thought I was around fifteen by now. I wasn't positive.

"Okay, let me show you what we do around here." He walked out of the room, motioning for us to follow him.

The surgeon led us into a big operating room, which didn't look nice at all. It was completely white, without any designs or anything un-bland. It was pretty depressing, and I had been in some extremely depressing situations. He showed us all of the equipment and tools (ew!) and told us how a procedure like Nudge wanted would happen. She didn't like the sound of it, because it would include people in lab coats working on her and drugging her. Also, untangling her DNA and the avian DNA would put her in extreme agony for years after the operation. In the end, she decided not to go through with the operation.

When we got back, everybody wanted to know was going on. Me and Nudge told them most of what happened. The flock was horrified, of course. But then something weird happened. Iggy started screaming.

"I can see! I can see!" Iggy was dancing around the house, reasonably excited. And for good reason. He'd been blind for years. Him being able to see was weird from his perspective.

"You can see, Ig?" Asked Angel.

"Yes, I can see everything. The flowers, the bees, the grass..." He ran out of the house singing garbage to himself that nobody really cared about. Everybody shared looks.

"Flowers and bees and grass?" Asked Fang. "Call me crazy, but I think we're inside." It really was confusing. Then again, what wasn't confusing these days.

Something had driven Iggy insane, but nobody really cared about that. We they cared about was who was going to cook if Iggy had to be institutionalized. Certainly not me. I just can't cook. Period. Fang couldn't cook any better than me. Neither could Angel or Gazzy. Nudge would probably be the next best chef. She knew how to cook basic dishes, like lasagna and pasta and stuff. Unfortunetly, Nudge was the next to go insane.

"What was that, Fang?" Nudge asked, distractedly.

"I didn't say anything." Fang said, unnerved.

"Yeah, you said something about Max and some guy called Sam." Nudge wasn't distracted now. She was focused on the little debate she had started.

"I di- I... uh... never- huh?" Fang stuttered, his face turning a disgusting shade of green.

"What did you say, Fang?" I said, sounding deceptively calm. "What did you say about me and Sam?"

"I di- it's not what you think." Think being the operative word.

"Nudge, you can read minds!" I said, amazed. "You're just like Angel now." Nudge stared at me for a moment, then shot to her feet and started danced around, a lot like Iggy had just a moment ago.

"I can read minds, oh yeah. I can read minds..." The rest of us just sat there, stunned. She'd been the next best cook. Now she probably needed to be put in an asylum too.

"Don't think I just forgot about what you thought about my relationship with Sam, Fang." I said. Fang turned green again. He looked funny in green.

The next best chef was probably Fang, unfortunately. That meaning he was slightly better than the rest of us, which isn't saying all that much. Suddenly, Fang jumped to his feet.

"Die puny mortals!" He screamed, coming towards us with fire in his eyes.

"Oh no, he's been possessed." I yelled. Suddenly we heard a strange song that sounded like it was coming from a microphone that was mounted on a van.

When there's something strange

in you neighbourhood

who're you gonna call

GHOSTBUSTERS!

The van pulled up and three dumb looking guys in dumb looking outfits jumped out with dumb looking guns and fired them at the still screaming Fang. Five-thousand volts of electricity jolted through Fang, and whatever was possessing him disappeared. Sadly, all that electricity had killed Fang. The dumb looking guys tucked their dumb looking guns into the belts of their dumb looking outfits and set off in their dumb looking van, leaving us to decide who our new chef would be. Angel would probably be the next candidate. At least she had never gone to dessert rat standards. Unfortunately, she picked that moment to die a violent death. A giant subway train screeched through their house, which didn't make any sense at all. Even worse than breaking all their good china, the train hit Angel straight on. Which probably hurt. Then she died. Yeah. Leaving me and, gulp, Gazzy, who was such a bad cook that even I was better at cooking than him. Sadly, nothing supernatural killed/drove me insane at the moment.

"Well," I thought, sighing inwardly, "I guess this is the end." And it was. The next morning, I woke up and got ready to make some breakfast. For two. I made some pancakes. You'd probably be surprised at how easy it is to accidentally poison pancakes at 2:00 AM in the freaking morning. I took one bite and keeled over. For some dumb reason, Gazzy didn't notice. He took a bite out of his pancake and I saw him keel over two, just before my eyes closed for the last time...