The Day My Pants Exploded

By Not Magical Me

Well, the day started off just great. A warm, breezy day, perfect for flying, as I remember. March, I think. Or June. Summer, anyways.

Well, long story short, Iggy was working on a bomb.

He wanted to make the fuse long, or something like that, so he snuck around, trying to find something long enough to make it.

Eventually, he worked his way into my room. I don't know how, I took away his lock picks( the ones I knew about, that is), and I had just invested in a heavy duty lock for my door.

Well, the stupid thing was a waste of money, I can tell you that much, because SOMEHOW, while I was out flying with Angel and Gazzy, he got into my room.

To this day, he won't tell me how he got in.

Right, so, there I was, flying around, hair undone for once, just letting it whip around my head, Gazzy and Angel are around the corner, I look at the sunset and just thought how PRETTY everything was today, close my eyes and BOOM! Right on schedule.

"Angel! Gazzy!" I called frantically. They zoomed around the bend and started yelling about smoke and a fire.

I instantly knew who the culprit was. Iggy was sent straight to the top of my hit list, even above Fang, who had done something earlier in the day that had made me super-duper mad at him. I forget the specifics, but I was ready to kill him.

That was about the time when Angel had suggested going out for a while.

So Angel, the Gasman and I all sped back home so fast we left little clouds of dust and a strip of fire behind us. Not really, but you get the point, right? Right.

And lo and behold, there was Iggy, with charred hair and a slightly dazed expression. Nudge and Fang were supporting him and Fang was going ballistic all over Iggy's sorry butt, until they saw me. Then Fang graciously shut up and let me take over.

Well, you can imagine what the first two words out of my mouth were.

"What happened?" I demanded anxiously. And also at the top of my lungs.

Nudge filled me in.

"Well, Max," she began, looking at Iggy maliciously. I wondered why until I remembered that he'd blown off the head of her one, precious doll yesterday, and flushed the remains down the toilet so he wouldn't have to fess up. Of course, he was in even more trouble when we found out just WHY the toilet wasn't working.

"Iggy here wanted to make a long distance bomb, with a long fuse or something like that," I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. That sounded like Iggy alright.

"So he shredded your pants," Angel told me later that my face went from having a slightly scary expression to downright dark.

Iggy began struggling weakly to get away.

"Only he did something wrong with the bomb, and the whole thing just kind of blew up in his face." She finished, smirking.

"Which pair of pants?" I asked carefully.

"Your favorite ones. The ones that we got you for your birthday that aren't, I mean weren't, from Goodwill."

I went very still.

Iggy's struggles increased.

I gave a sudden primal shriek of rage, and Iggy burst loose and went airborne, like Jeb had taught us to when we thought something was going to get messy.

And this was going to get messy.

I followed him before he got above the trees, and he sped up. It was a good long chase, but eventually I caught him and beat the crud out of him.

Then I screamed at him for a while about how he could have been killed and how those were my FAVORITE pants.

Then we cleaned him up and we went home, to find that food was already on the table, which, for once, had been cleared and wiped with a wet cloth.

I guess I had scared them a little.

I ought to do it more often, it gets results, like a clean table.