A/N: Hello! I noticed you have found my second story! This is for those who like the movie Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian and have also seen the movie's deleted scenes. In case you are wondering what historical woman I decided to throw into my upcoming fanfic as well as this short little humorous one-shot, I chose Mary Pickford who was, in her time, a famous actress. So sit back, relax, and enjoy! =]
Takin' Em Down, Gangster Style
We hurried into the Air and Space portion of the whole Smithsonian Museum collection and instantly spotted Amelia Earhart as well as Larry Daley sprinting up the stairs already.
"Alright, fellas," Al Capone, who was right beside me as we came to a halt, glanced over at me while I gave him a stern glare. "And…lady…Time for me to paint the town red!"
He made a fake whoosh sound as he swung his arms up in the air; his black jacket that was once hanging on his shoulders fell to the ground. He held out his Tommy gun in front of him and began to do something that I couldn't even believe.
He started to make fake gunfire noises and explosion sound effects while not even bothering to shoot out a single bullet.
"Al!" I managed to spit out, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Hush now, little one! I'm takin' em down, GANGSTER STYLE!"
He continued on making his noises while Napoleon Bonaparte and Ivan the Terrible looked at him with dumbfounded bewilderment at his ridiculous actions, and then at me. I shrugged at them with a confused expression, and then turned to Al.
"No, you're not, actually. You're being a little kid and pretending!" I corrected him, and rolled my eyes.
He straightened up and gave me a non-amused stare. I looked back at him straight in the eye.
"Need somethin' a little more gusto? Alright then, here we go…"
He crouched down once more and did something even more stupid.
"Guh guh guh guh guh guh guh guh guh guh!"
He repeated this motion and his little kid sound effects while my mouth dropped open a tiny bit.
"Alvin, you're a moron," Ivan noted while Al stood back up shaking his head, "Your stupidity makes the hair on the back of my thighs stand up like a Russian ballerina."
"Do I have to explain everythin' to you guys?" Al asked, annoyed.
"Apparently," I muttered.
"Look," Al stated, "Each time I go guh, that's actually a bullet. Okay? So guh guh guh guh would be…"
I stared at him in shock as he still carried on with his childish pretend play.
"BULLET BULLET BULLET BULLET BULLET! BULLET BULLET BULLET BULLET BULLET!"
By that time, the French men had left us along with Ivan and his crew.
When Al had finally finished his little act, he let his eyes wander from his men's blank expressions and finally to my own aggravated one.
"Let's go," Al finally spoke after catching his breath as he walked on, leading the way.