I was re reading my friends forever fic, and noticed… I should rewrite it and improve it cos its crappiness at its very best! YAY! I mean, it is over due for about a year and a half….

gets hit over the head by certain peoples laptops

"YOU ABANDONER! BEEYOTCH!"

I'm sorry! I'm sob sooooorrrrryy….

I OWN NONE! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I'll just stick to being a rabid Bloo fan!

Tick… Tick… Tick…

Bloo watched the door intently, his eyes almost burning a hole through the antique cherry timber, a tin of paint in one hand, and a hammer in the other. Today was the day. The day they would complete the most awesome, most amazing project ever… The Herriman piñata. He had no idea how to make a piñata of course, but hey, he was sure a hammer could be thrown in somewhere.

Tick… tick… tick… Why does that damn clock have to tick? Why not tock for a change? Man, that clock was irritating him. Just one hit. Herriman will never know. Just as he pulled the hammer back behind his shoulder, ready to commit murder on the foyer clock, the door burst dramatically open, pouring sunlight and life into fosters.

"HIIIIIIIIIIIIIBLOOAREYAREADYFORTHATPINATA?" A familiar female voice screeched, even more energetically than usual. Yup, its Goo. Her dreadlocks shook as she raced toward Bloo, who abandoned his hammer (the clock sighed in relief) and tackled each other to the ground, rolling around on the floor as if they'd been friends forever.

Goo was in mid noogie when another figure slid in through the door. Bloo recognised the shaggy brown hair, those thick brown eyes, that confident yet calm walk.

"MAC!" The two hyperactive figures grinned toothily and tackled him to the ground, knocking him into the front lawn like two mini tsunamis, each one with enough force to knock a grown man off his feet.

"MACMACMACWEREGONNAMAKETHATPINATAYOUGOTTAHELPUS!" Goo gasped in one breath as she tickled him into hysterics, making him roll to the right.

"YEAH! FRANKIES EVEN GONNA GIVE US THE MATERIALS TOO!" Bloo screeched as he tickled him as he rolled into the blobs direction, causing him to scream uncontrollably. The eight year old rolled between the two, as if falling deliberately into the tickling traps, before giving up and lying like a beached seal, in hysterics and subject to both tickling traps.

After a minute or two, Bloo and Goo collapsed heavily on top of Mac, sighing and giggling in a pile of exhaustion. Unexpectedly, the peaceful happy scene was broken when the girl and blob found themselves being jolted and jogged. The two looked down towards the source of the disturbance; it was Mac, and he was coughing.

"Again? Man, you practically drowned yourself in lemsip last night!" Bloo talked over the phloemy sounding coughs, and there was a yell of disgust when Mac swallowed with a distinct GULP when he finished.

"Oh man, SICK!" Bloo yelped as he dropped to the ground when Mac pushed himself up. The child's throat felt like it was on fire, and the sticky mucus he found himself half coughing, half vomiting wasn't remotely soothing it. Like dust. He was swallowing dust.

"You don't swallow it! Ya gotta spit!" Bloo honked up a big glob of phloem himself and with a tremendous "ptooie"… it dribbled disgustingly down his chin pathetically, which he cuffed away, ego battered. However, Goo stood up, and without a word, she coughed herself, honked, and spent a while looking as though the gap toothed girl was cleaning out her entire respiratory system while Mac sat looking as though he could puke at any moment.

With a clean cut "Phoo" the mucus glob ricocheted through the air, landing at an impressive distance. So impressive, it knocked Mr Herriman's hat flying, who chuckled embarrassedly. It might not have been so bad if he didn't just happen to have been escorting the inspector around the grounds, who shook her head, and marked an enormous, ugly X in thick, criticising red ink on her clipboard paper. They walked on, Mr Herriman flashing a murderous look their way, wiping away the green blob of snot away from the velvet of his top hat.

"Goo! That was AWSOME!" Bloo glomped the dark girl, who screamed "YEAHIKNOWIDIDN'TKNOWYOUDIDN'TKNOWICOULDDOTHATCOMEONMACWEGOTTAMAKETHATPINATA!" And before Mac could even think about objecting, she grabbed him by his wrist, with Bloo still attached to her neck as though he was a second head, and dragged him into the home, all ready to make a model of the infamous anthro rabbit to bash in until sweets poured out.

"Urgh, what the hecks that sound…?" Ruth groaned into her pillow as the awful sound reverberated throughout the apartment yet again. Moaning when she realised what it was, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a wipe of an exhausted hand and hauled herself from the mattress, throwing the duvet out of her way. She hobbled slightly, her feet slapped heavily on the laminate floor, whining as she kicked a roller-skate out of the way. The multicoloured wheeled shoe rolled as though leading her to the source; the bathroom door. Inside was the most inhuman and horrible retching sounds, and a small scraping noise that sounded like tiny feet sliding on a bathmat.

"Mac, Is that you?" Ruth knocked, and, wincing, held her ear to the door, waited for an answer. Hearing none, she grasped the door handle and turned it, but the door stopped before it even allowed a peek of what was behind it. It was locked.

"Mac? Its me, mom. Open the door,"

Mac heard his mother call from behind the door, but before he could even answer, his body shook as he let loose another wave of what he felt like he had eaten four years ago. He gripped onto the toilet rim as it ended for another thirty seconds and wiped away a remnant of vomit from his nose. Exhausted from his endeavour, his forehead hot but his sweat cold, his cheek squeaked as it slid down the porcelain bowl.

He wiped a hand across his cheek, and started to feel hot tears running down his chin as he replied with a timid "I'm okay mom…"

"Mac, open the door baby," She called through. After about a minute she heard the lock click open, and the door creaked as it revealed the small child behind. His face was pale, his eyes resembled a panda and he didn't exactly smell like a bucket of roses.

"Mac…"

Mac smiled painfully as his mother fell to her knees and embraced him, even if it was a little gingerly. He blinked, embarrassed, at the fuss his mother made of wiping his nose and mouth, almost enjoying the long awaited attention. But when it came to her getting his pyjamas off, he pushed her away and walked casually to the door of his bedroom.

"Mac, but they're all horrible and sicky. Just let me get you a fresh pair…"

"Nomomitsokayi'llgetmyownnightnight!" He slammed the door in her face and with another click, barred her from entering.

For a second, Ruth was taken aback with a wash of motherly worry, but it was washed over when she heard a clatter coming from Terrence's room. It was hard being a mother.

Meanwhile, as Mac heard his mother screaming at Terrence for shimmying down the drainpipe (again), he lifted his pyjama top, revealing a full set of ribs jutting scarily through his flesh, and where a full belly of puppy fat once sat, was a waist so thin Terrence could probably put his hand round it and his thumb and forefinger would meet.

No one can ever know.