Dear the peeps of Wizzorld:

Well, inspiration has just struck my brain. I'm just gunna see where this takes us. Want to join me?

………………..

Pickles on the Run

Vash the Stampede hummed to himself as he made his way into his hotel room, the beautiful day putting him in a most chipper mood. He set down his bag and took off his sun glasses, placing them on the small dresser

beside the bed. He sat down to test the softness on the bed. But no sooner had he sat down then he sprang back up with a strange, sort of deformed yelp, a hand placed on his but.

He turned sharply, looking down where he had just sat down. There was a pile of pickles on the bed. "… Wha…." he said, more confused than he had been in a long time.

Suddenly, a loud thump sounded from the other side of the room. Vash turned and looked in that direction. It seemed to be coming from the closet. Wait, the closet!? There was another thump. And then another

one. Vash stared blankly at the closet door, more confused than ever.

And that was when the door flew open and what appeared to be three teenaged girls came spilling out. The piled up on the floor in front of the closet. Vash just kept staring blankly.

"Ah, my spine!" cried the one on the bottom. She had short brown hair and glasses, but the glasses had fallen off her face when she landed and had skidded about a foot across the floor when she landed.

The one on the top sort of pushed herself off and flopped down on the floor with an "oof,". This one had long red hair. "Aww man, I broke nail. Now I have to make them all the same size, damn it…" she mumbled as she pushed her self up.

The last girl got up too. She had long blonde hair, and also wore glasses. She looked down at the brunette girl. "Uhh… Are you okay Tara?" she asked.

"…Where did my glasses go?" the girl on floor asked.

She, however, did not receive an answer. Because it was at that moment that vas finally found his voice, somewhat strangled and un-manly as it was.

"Whoareyouandwhatareyoudoinginmyroom?" he choked out.

"… Say what now?" the red head asked.

"Oh, there they are," the brunette said, grabbing her glasses and getting up.

Vash took a deep breath and repeated his earlier exclamation, but more slowly this time. "Who are you and what are you doing in my room?"

"I'm Angel," said the red head. Vash took a better look at her. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans that had stuff written on it from top to toe, camo tennis shoes, and black and white shirt that tied around the

neck.

"I'm Hillary," the blonde said. She was wearing a green t-shirt and a pair of regular blue jeans.

"And I'm Tara," said the brunette, placing her glasses on her nose. She was wearing a knee length black dress that had lasses and a zipper all the way up it and knee high heeled boots.

"Together we are Brandon's Angels," the three said in unison. Then the all laughed.

Vash was very confused right now. Very, very confused. "Uh… Why are you here?" he asked, his voice small and scared.

"We're looking for pickles. Seen any?" Hillary asked.

Vash blinked at them.

"Hey, are touching your but?" Tara asked suddenly.

Vash realized that he was indeed touching his butt. He ceased immediately.

"Oh hey, there's some," Angel said, pointing at the bed.

"Geez why are they always on the bed?" Tara asked, pushing past Vash looking over the pickles. "Whelp, get the tongs," she said after studying them for a moment.

"Wait, what? Tongs?" Vash asked, starting to get really worried.

"Yeah, we have to be careful, one wrong move, and they could explode," Hillary said.

"Explode?" Vash said, even more confused now. "What do you mean?"

"They're touch sensitive exploding pickles," Angel said matter-of-factly.

"Touch… But I already sat on them!" Vash said, his voice shrill once more.

"WHAT?!" the girls said in unison. They all thought for a moment. Then Tara spoke up.

"Oh, they must be the new time-release models…" she said as if that explained everything.

"Does that mean we don't need the tongs?" asked Hillary.

"HEY!" came a new voice from the direction of the closet. All heads turned towards it. There was another girl. She had black hair and had glasses. She was wearing a hoodie sweat shirt and blue jeans. "Did you find them yet?," she asked.

"Yeah, just a minuet Jan- Bosely," Angel said. With that, she took out a plastic bag and moved over to the bed. The two there were soon joined by Hillary. They then began to grab them and dump them into the bag.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" the newest girl asked.

"Oh, don't worry," Hillary said.

"Yeah, there the new time release ones," Angel said.

"Oh, okay," the one called Bosely said.

Vash watched as the three Angels put the pickles in the bag. As soon as they finished, they tied the bag shut, placed it in a specially designed case that seem to come out of nowhere, and walked back to the closet.

"Well it was nice meeting you!" Tara said, dropping a stunned gunslinger a wink. Then she joined the artist formally known as Janet in the closet.

"Yeah…" Angel said, and fallowed suit.

"Watch out for pickles in odd places, okay?" Hillary

said, joining the others. "See ya!" and then she closed the door. Nothing happened.

"Oh wait, sorry, I have to push the button," came Tara's voice. There was a collective sigh. "Okay, here we go!" There was a flash of light, and the there was silence inside the closet.

The door creaked open. There was no one inside it.

Vash stared open mouthed at the empty space. He straitened slowly and looked back at the bed. There was a dark spot where the pickles had been.

Vash just turned around and walked out of the room. He really needed a drink.