*walks in dramatically while wearing Mysterious Cloak of Doom©*

Fooga: Do you really need a copyright?
Me: Yes. Yes I do.

Anyways, I haven't been updating because I've been going CRAZY with NaNo and something is wrong with FanFiction... or possibly Safari... when I opened a document to edit it, it didn't format it all nice and pretty and in a big square box. D: So now I'm using Google Chrome, but it's annoying because the tools bar (where you can bold, italic, etc.) doesn't show the icons... so I have to guess where things are. Phooey.

Now Showing Disclaimer in Your Local FanFiction Story!: I don't own Maximum Ride. Or any of the characters that I interviewed. Or Tom from Home Protection, although he is real and he does call me every other day. Or Bryan (he's real too). Emily is also real, although I don't own her.

I Claim!: Well... this story, I guess.

Me: I'm posting this in Max Ride section because even though I talk to several different characters, and it's in my POV, it's still got a lot of Iggy and Gazzy in it.

Jelly's POV (Please do not be alarmed... my doctor says that I am perfectly fine.)

I'm in my room, typing up a storm like... I'm typing up a storm. Bad example. Let me try this again.

So I'm in my room, my butt is falling asleep and my fingers are aching and my posture is getting worse by the second. I've been typing ever since I hastily finished my homework and started to work on my NaNoWriMo story.

I'm starting to get into the groove of writing when my phone vibrates. And vibrates. And vibrates. And I'm ready to throw it at the wall for interrupting me as I answer harshly into my phone, "What do you want?"

"Hello, this is Tom from Home Protection, how are you today?"

"STOP CALLING ME YOU IDIOT!" I shout and hang up.

I return rather grumpily to my computer where I wiggle my fingers above the keyboard. It's this bad habit I have - whenever I can't think of something to write, my fingers start typing without touching the keyboard.

MY phone starts to buzz again. I check the caller to make sure it's not Tom and answer.

"Hey, Emily, what's up?"

"I need your help," says my friend.

"Well, the great and powerful Jelly is in," I say as modestly as I can. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but it's urgent," Emily plays along.

"Hmm, let me speak with her about it. I don't think she has any patients right now, but let me check. Ah! She's free. Let me pass the phone over to her," I prattle off.

I wait a second, and then say, "Hello, this is Jelly, what can I do for you today?"

"It's Bryan," she says very carefully.

I ground my teeth together. "What did he do now?"

"He keeps texting Logan, he keeps pranking me, and I think he's stalking us."

"Why would you think that?"

"I can see him looking in my window."

I jump up and peek through my blinds carefully (just to make sure it's not possible to be in two different places at once. Except at Four Corners - that place is awesome. Getting off track now...). No unnerving wide eyes, extremely short stature, and skinny limbs.

"That's... uhh..."

I can practically see her nod in agreement. "Can you help?"

"Of course. You know I'm good at this kind of stuff. Let's see... what kind of revenge are you looking for?"

"Well, I'm not looking for revenge, mostly-" The sentence is cut off by a screech.

I wait patiently.

"Okay, I NEED REVENGE," I hear Emily hiss into the phone.

I roll my eyes. "What did he do?"

"He broke my living room window!" She shrieks. I pull the phone slightly away from my ear.

"Hmm... looks like I'll need some experts for this one. I have an idea, but it might take a few hours to plan and put into action."

"As long as you get him," she says triumphantly and hangs up.

I sigh and glance back at my computer longingly. "I'll finish it later," I mutter and put it to sleep.

I stand up straight and start going through my closet.

"Ah! Here it is! My Mysterious Cloak of Doom©!" I shout. I pull it on in an overly dramatic fashion and start to shuffle through some drawers.

"No... no... AH-HA!" I yell triumphantly and brandish my Wand of Wonders. "The perfect outfit for revenge through use of my fictional power!"

I think for a moment. "That makes it sound like my power is fake... huh... here! The perfect outfit for revenge through use of my Magical Writing Powers!"

I brandish the Wand and practice waving it dramatically for a moment, then call for my minion. "FOOGA!"

He appears in a poof of light green smoke, coughing. "Does the smoke really have to smell like peppermint?"
"SILENCE, MINION!" I shout in a Greek-conqueror way.

Fooga raises a single eyebrow. "You're really in a vengeful mood."
"Yes, and that's why I need you to set me up some interviews with the most kick-butt people you can find. I'm getting revenge on Bryan today."
"Fun," he says dryly and poofs away.

"Mmm... peppermint," I say drowsily.

I grab a clipboard and pencil and poof into my Lair. I strut over to the Interview Room and wait.

Eventually, in comes Emmett Cullen.

"Hi, Emmett," I say, looking him over. "Take a seat."

He sits down tentatively on a red velvet chair.

I skim the questions. Blah blah hobbies, blah blah likes, blah blah dislikes- huh. This might work.

"What is your favorite type of revenge?"

"Pounding people silly," he answers immediately.

I frown. "Not exactly the aspect I was going for... more stealthy and evil."

He shrugs. "I don't even know what I'm here for, just some random guy poofed up in peppermint smoke, then here I was."

I internally groan. I may need to replace Fooga.

"Well, you don't get the job. Sorry," I say bluntly. "Please leave."

He shrugs and walks out.

Then was a guy named Po. I considered him, then dismissed him.

There were a lot of people, including:

- Peeta
- Gale
- Katniss
- Finnick
- Dylan
- Artemis Fowl
- Percy Jackson
- Annabeth Chase
- Medusa
- Harry Potter
- Voldemort
- Snape
- Darth Vader
- Luke Skywalker
- Fooga himself (Don't ask...)
- Edward Cullen
- Jacob Black
- Some kid named Seth
- Seth's sister, Kendra
- Carter Kane
- Sadie Kane
- Sophie Newman
- Josh Newman
- Gazzy
- Iggy

It was... overwhelming, to say the least. Eventually I decided to go with Gazzy and Iggy because they were stealthy yet epic. The rest were pretty cool, though, too, and I gave some of them my card to make sure that they knew that if I needed any magical/light saber/whatever help I would probably to turn them.

"So." I said simply, staring down Gazzy and Iggy across my desk.

"So what?" Gazzy asked bluntly.

"How will we get paid?" Iggy asked.

"In nachos, Iggy. Gazzy, I'm planning revenge on someone and I need your help." I answered.

They are both instantly rejuvenated by my sentences and sit forward eagerly.

"What kind of revenge?" Iggy asked excitedly.

I think for a moment. "Stealthy, but effective. Must be absolutely hilarious. He can never know who did it," I said with an evil smile.

"Cyanide?" Gazzy suggests.

Iggy pulls out a vial full of a bubbling green liquid labeled with something long and complicated. Gazzy looks at it carefully.

"Just... uh... I'll be in the Army Room if you need me," I say awkwardly and run down the hall to the Army Room, where I check on my every-growing army of Swedish Fish. After a half-hour, Gazzy runs in. "What food does this someone love most?"

I consider it for a second, then reply, "Probably cookies."

He nods and runs back out of the room. After another half-hour, Iggy and Gazzy come in proudly carrying a plate of warm, gooey chocolate-chip cookies.

I raise an eyebrow. "Explain. In English and simple words."

"We poisoned them so that whoever eats the cookies will be sick for days," Gazzy explains. I smile and rub my hands together. "When Bryan eats these, he'll miss school for days and have so much overdue work... Muahahaha!"

Gazzy and Iggy back off slowly while I run and wrap up the cookies and then skip off to deliver the cookies to Bryan.

I first go over to Emily's house to explain the plan.

"We're going to lure Bryan to the cookies, so that he won't be suspicious. You walk out with the plate of cookies and hand them to me. I make an overly big deal of eating the non-poisoned one right by Bryan and then setting the plate down and walking away. He'll grab a cookie and eat it. Then he'll eat the entire plate and run off. We can always blame him getting sick on eating too many cookies. It's foolproof!" I say in a rush. I hand her the cookie plate, a walkie-talkie and start to watch anxiously for Bryan.

I spot him. "Target spotted," I hiss. She puts on a winning smile and opens the door, setting the plate of cookies on the porch. I wave good-bye and run off to find a good hiding spot.

I hide behind a few large bushes and peek at Bryan, who is walking up to the plate of cookies.

"Target approaching bait," I whisper into my walkie-talkie.

"Over," comes the reply.

"Target reaching..." I say nervously. "Yes! Yes! Target stealing plate and stuffing his face with the bait! Over and out!" I whisper excitedly.

Bryan eats all the cookies, then runs off. I smile.

The next day, Bryan wasn't at school. I texted him, faking sympathy and asking where he was.

The reply: Sick to my stomach - I feel horrible.

I smile and take a bite of a chocolate chip cookie. Revenge is sweet.

Me: Muahahaha...

Fooga: Why don't you tell the dear readers how this came on?

Me: Well... I poked a guy a few times. He poked me back. I got mad, and THUS WAS THE STORY BORN!

Fooga: Are you really going to replace me?

Me: Yeah, probably. You're kind of boring. Too... logical. Maybe I could capture Gazzy!

Gazzy: *eats nachos* YEAH!

Me: Care for some chocolate cookies, readers? *innocent eyes*

R&R!