Disclaimer: The names belong to Disney because they're cheap lousy bastards. I have to say that on pain of death, well not the cheap lousy bastards part. There's a part in here that belongs to Monty Python. Scarlett's mine, you can steal her, I don't give a crap. That's what half this story is about actually: crap. So here goes:

Shit.

Exactly nine months after she spent the night in Gunnar's Room, Scarlett discovered she was having a baby.

"Oh shit!" she cried into the toilet. Her roommates, who weren't quite awake yet, went back to bed. Afterall, Scarlett's usual random outbursts were just that: random.

Scarlett, however, felt her yelp justified. As she had finished relieving herself this morning, just turning to flush the darn toilet, she found that putrid smelling baby smiling and giggling up at her. "Oh shit!"

And shit was right, the baby was covered in it.

Gunnar Stahl was going to die. All Scandinavian men were going to die.

When Julie woke up, Scarlett was already gone on her morning jog. Shoes gone, hair-tie missing, sweatband nowhere in sight, baby in the potty...wait, baby?

There cooing in a large mound of poo was a baby playing with make-believe chocolate cookie dough.

"Oh shit!" Julie said aloud. This means Scarlett wasn't fat anymore. Recently, Scarlett had looked excessively bloated and puffy, bumping Julie (who swears she's only all muscle) to second place on the fatso list.

"I feel obese," Julie moaned to the baby, who threw a pattie at her.

"Shit."

And shit was right. Julie was covered in it.

When Connie woke up, the baby was long gone, confiscated by Coach Wolf Stansson, Czar of the Russo-Icelandic Magis, Don of the Scicilian-Icleandic One-eyes, Sheik of the Arab-Icelandic Fireflies, and Chieftain of the Irish-Icelandic Lets-Get-Drunk-On-Vodka-So-We-Can-Pretend-We're-Russians Pyrites. Wolf Stansson's family, the Odin-Bran (makers of that internationally-renown mythological cereal), had known (some say from experience) that inter-marriages are no way to go for world-domination; so indeed, Wolf can claim every single ethnicity known to man, and is hell-bent on discovering the rest for the benefit of his as of yet non-existant multi-great-grandchildren and the future of the Viking renaissance.

Of course, Connie didn't know this. All she knew was that the bathroom was covered in manure.

"Ew shit! I'll go shower with Guy."

Needless to say, Guy Germaine received a fantastic, albeit slightly smelly (oh who are we kidding!), super-happy-super-early-birthday surprise.

Gunnar Stahl was not happy. Scarlett had come storming into his room screeching about a baby.

"Baby?"

"Yes, you stupid non-English-speaking not-quite-Icelandic Icelander! Baby! As in Baby Gunnarsson! As in my freakin' father is now a fucking grandfather!"

This was indeed the truth. Wolf Stansson was not only freaky, freaking, and mildly spastic, he was now the most sexually active grandfather on the face of this earth.

Consequently, Wolf was sitting in his office receiving a blowjob and other undeserved attention from his harem of girls ages eighteen to twenty-four (or however old those nuns in that Monty Python and the Holy Grail movie were). He was near orgasm and his perpetually cold and sneering face (we suspect botox) finally resembled just a smudge of feeling.

The girls all hurrumphed when the phone abruptly rang.

"Your daughter just had a baby," The woman on the other end calmly informed him.

"And I was just about to make a new one..." he began irritably until it dawned on him. "Oh SHIT!"

"How in the world did you guess?"

Wolf paused, not sure what to make of this. Finally,he resigned, "Look Maria, where is she? I'll talk to her."

"She's here, with a comatose Gunnar Stahl..."

In the background, he heard a piercing, not-at-all muffled "Mom, tell Daddy I want him here NOW!"

"You hear that? She wants you here. Now. But do wipe off the pussy cream before you show up, will you? And wash your mouth, I really don't want to know what any other woman tastes like."

Almost instinctively, Wolf replied, "None of them taste as good as you do."

"Well, as long as you know that."

"Of course I do."

"Yes, well."

"Well."

"Wolf?"

"Huh?"

"Stop dawdling and get your spoiled arse down here."

So that's all I got. Yay! My first fanfic! I'm falling into the trap.

Read and Review, as they say I guess. And enjoy. If you don't understand the way my mind works, I don't blame you.

S