Sometimes I wish people would just listen to me. I seem to have been right plenty of times before this. Not that I've been wrong very often. I can recall a few times when my judgment has been a bit…off.

But right now…I am completely, totally, positively, absolutely, maybe right. We needed to eat and half the flock was voting for chili. Heck no! I'd be up all night holding a gas mask to face so I wouldn't die of noxious fumes.

Yeah, the Gasman does that (hence, his name). Farting is his absolute best talent, of course after mimicking any voice he wants, and making the best bombs in the entire world. One tip about the Gasman: stay upwind and never hand him a bean burrito. Oh, and by the way, he's around eight in age with blonde hair and angelic blue eyes. Just don't let 'em fool ya.

Iggy, of course, was always on the Gasman's side. Ranging around fourteen years of age, he was tall, pale, and blonde. His sightless eyes seemed to give him no handy-cap at all. He could keep up with the whole flock, no prob. As long as he had someone's belt loop to hold on to. Being the champion lock picker and bomb setter, Iggy is one kid you don't want to get on the bad side of. A while ago when we went to the South Pole Iggy found that he could identify colors by touching them, which made things I guess a bit more colorful for him.

Angel (a.k.a. my baby) was ranging around five or six (either one works for me). With curly blonde hair and real angelic blue eyes, this child seems to have hit the jack-pot when it comes to super-human powers. Angel can read minds, and sometimes control them, she can change her appearance gradually and slightly, she can talk to fish, and breathe under water. Wow, that sounds impressive even to me, and I deal with her sarcasm every day. Anyway, she seems to have taken my side on this one, apples are in order, not chili.

When we were in New York about a year ago, she brought a small dog into our little 'family'. Total; or so Angel called him; is a talking dog that we just recently found is sprouting wings. He's a black Scottie and is in love with an Alaskan malamute. I think they're getting married soon. Wow.

Nudge, I guess you can consider eleven-ish. Nudge is black-skinned and has nice, brown, wavy hair down to her shoulders. Being our fashion queen, she tries to keep us all in style for this year. So far she's succeeded in her task on the whole flock (except for me. Many people think I have a terrible fashion sense. Like I really care). Nudge has a way with computers, finding passwords and hacking are her specialties. Trust me, they come in real helpful when we're on the run and need something from a motherboard. She also found out, along with Iggy, that she has another power. She can attract metal at her own will. Which is what she's doing now, with my sweat jacket. Really annoying. She seems to have agreed along with me as well, no chili for the boys.

Fang, well, hard to explain. Fang is fourteen as well, two months older then Iggy if you would really like to know. With black hair and, dark, obsidian eyes, well, he's quite mysterious. Recently we have made it into a roller-coaster lived relationship that makes my heart beat faster just thinking about it. Ugh, pretend I didn't say that. Fang can, sort of, fade into the back ground, as long as he stays still. Which, to me, kind of defeats the purpose of being invisible. Having to stay put and all. Oh well. It's still kinda cool. He seems to have agreed with the chili, idiot.

And me, you might ask? I'm Max, and I range probably four to six months older then Fang. I seem to have been given the title of 'Leader', which means I make all the hard decisions. Like what we're supposed to eat. My brown hair was streaked with blonde and my brown eyes were shiny (or so Fang said. Weird.) I also found that I can fly super-humanly fast for any of our flock.

Did you catch that? Fly? Good job, you're smarter than I thought. Yes, we all have wings. Yes, that's what I said. Wings. I mean literally, they're around double our height in wingspan, from tip to tip. They are plain tight. I wouldn't take anything to get rid of them. I don't think I would at least, but you can't dwell on what 'could' happen, which is exactly what it is.

"Oh, come on, Fang" I said. If I got Fang on my side then I'd be good, that would mean I would have over half the flock. There was no changing the Gasman's mind, and if the Gasman was on something, Iggy was right with him, "You know for a fact, that if we get burritos we're all gonna be up all night, except for maybe Gazzy and Iggy, trying to survive from the terrible stench"

Fang shrugged. "They're not sleeping in my room"

That was true, well, not entirely, Iggy was. That's right, room. For once we were relaxed, or as relaxed as we can get, saving the world and all. We'd stayed at this particular hotel for about a week. For some odd reason we had gotten two rooms, but with three bedrooms all together. Which, trust me, worked out fine for me. That meant I got a Queen sized bed all to myself. Fang and Iggy were sharing the second room we had gotten, sleeping in the two gigantic beds that filled the only space in the entire room. Nudge and I slept in the other room, on separate beds, thank heavens. Nudge was a sleeping kicker. And then, connecting onto that room was yet another entire bedroom.

I know right? Awesome.

Angel and the Gasman slept in there together since they were the youngest, and were the only blood siblings among us.

Anyway, back to my leadership argument, "That's not true. Iggy's in your room" I pointed out.

"That is true" he said, barely changing his expression, yet I could tell he was thinking hard, trying to decide.

"Oh, come on, Fang" Gazzy said, imitating my voice perfectly, annoying the crap out of me.

I shot him a glare, and he ignored it completely.

"Just one burrito", the second part was in his own voice.

Right then, he let one rip, and everyone took a reflexive step backwards. A grin split across my little eight year old's face.

"Alright" Fang said, "I've decided"

We all looked at him. He was pretty much deciding our fate on dinner.

"Apples it is"

The Gasman and Iggy both sighed exasperatedly.

"If that's what you smell like before a burrito I have no intention of having to smell you after you have one."

Gazzy's pouty face, lifted about an inch of a smile.

"You know you guys" I said, "We're not really having apples, it was just the first thing that came to mind for me…other than a burrito"

Everyone looked up in surprise. Well, except for Fang. The only change for him was a slight raise of eyebrows.

"McDonald's here we come!"

Everyone cheered.