A/N: So I wanted to take a break from my other fic and wanted to write something fun and silly for a change.
Basically, this is a whole series of one-shots still taking place in The Wasabi Chronicles verse. It revolves around a party gone wrong. If you read Chapter Three, you'll know the party I'm referring to, but the one shots can read as stand alones. The fics won't be in exact chronological order so please bear with me.
Just to be safe, the M rating is for heavy cursing. I hope you guys enjoy reading and stick around for the journey.
Disclaimer: All the properties and rights of Kickin' It belong to Disney XD, etc. No copyright infringement intended, and no profit is being made from it.
Jerry was fucked.
Ab-so-lute-ly. Fucked.
There was no way he was going to come out of this unscathed.
Sure, he pulled off many stupid stunts in the past; gotten away with most of them. It's like people said: familiarity breeds stupidity. Or was it the other way around? Well, whatever it was, Jerry figured he had nothing to lose with a prayer or two. Or five. Then again, screw prayer. At this rate, he'd be seeing the little guy with the red horns.
Forget Rudy. Hell, forget Mika. Phil would have the most motivation and least hesitation to go after him now. The Hamakistanian was a sap, but he wasn't above dishing out some violence; he had the bloodstains on the brooms to prove it. Phil had an enormously, unhealthy attachment to that goat for damn sure.
So, yeah…..fuck it. If he was going down, he might as well make himself comfortable in the process. And that was how Eddie found him that morning at the dojo: lying on his back with a bowl half full of popcorn propped on his chest and two-and-a-half empty bottles of orange soda scattered about.
"Jerry?"
Remaining flat on his back, Jerry raised his hand half-heartedly and grunted some unintelligible greeting.
"Jerry, did you stay here all night?" an incredulous Eddie asked.
"Sure did," said Jerry. "They must have towed the car, so I got stuck here. I thought what the hell, yo, I'll just sleep here for the night. At least there's no Pepito."
"Dude, I told you not to park in that handicap space!"
"I was handicapped. I fell on my ass real hard, didn't I?"
"Yeah, sliding across the car hood," countered Eddie. "You weren't handicapped, you were dumb."
"Eh, potato, patato," Jerry dismissed.
"Yeah, well your little patato," said Eddie, mimicking his accent on the last word, "got Milton's car towed. He is going to kill you!"
"Muy ez ell yo," said Jerry, stuffing his mouth with popcorn. "Iz gunit hepin enit wey."
Eddie looked on in disbelief and shook his head at the display. Jerry had lost it. Milton was definitely going to lose it. As if right on cue, their red-headed friend entered the dojo. Eddie was surprised to find him sporting a rather dazed expression; complete with glazed over eyes and a big idiotic smile.
"Hey Milton," Eddie greeted.
"S'up Milton," Jerry mumbled, grabbing another handful of popcorn.
It took a few seconds before the reflexes kicked in. Jerry's eyes widened. He bolted upright, spilling the bowl and its contents on the floor, and ran towards Milton. Jerry grabbed his shoulders and shook him.
"Milton, please tell me you got Tootsie?" asked Jerry desperately.
Milton didn't respond. Judging from his unblinking eyes, he was still daydreaming. Jerry smacked him upside the head. "MILTON!"
Milton grabbed his head and rubbed it gingerly. He glared at Jerry. "Gahhhh! Was that necessary?"
"Yeah, sorry, my bad man," Jerry said with faux sincerely. He followed that up with another smack and tightened his grip on the lapels of Milton's jacket. "Milton, where's Tootsie?"
Milton looked puzzled. "You mean Jack hasn't brought him back yet?" he asked.
Jerry felt his heart diving off the cliff. He could have just died right then and there. Died. "Why would Jack bring back Tootsie when you had him last?" Jerry asked. "Remember?"
"What? I never had him. I couldn't even catch him."
"You were last seen with him!"
"Well, it's a very long story –"
Jerry let out a frustrated cry and attempted to grasp the nerd's neck. Eddie intervened before Jerry could choke Milton and shoved them apart.
"Hey!" yelled Eddie. "Knock it off! Look, it's not a big deal – we'll just call Jack." He whipped out his phone and tapped on the screen.
"Don't bother," Jerry said gruffly.
Jerry's front pocket started buzzing. Accompanying it was the unmistakable Sir Mix-A-Lot waxing poetry about the female booty.
"Is that the ringtone he gave me?" Eddie exclaimed.
"You think that's messed up?" said Jerry.
He pulled out his own phone and dialed. Sure enough, they soon heard the horns and trumphets blasting out the melody to "La Cucaracha."
"Huh, that's pretty apt," Milton commented, "…and kinda racist."
Eddie narrowed his eyes. "What do mean 'kinda'?" Eddie asked in a warning tone.
A series of bell chimes saved Milton from responding to the delicate question. He took the phone out, and quickly flipped it open.
"Hello?" he answered. His eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, hey Kim. Yeah, I guess I forgot to return Julie's phone." He paused for a bit. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, Julie's fine. I dropped her back at the house an hour ago." Milton paused again, listening to the other side. "Uh-huh. Oh Jack's still with you?"
Jerry ripped the phone from Milton. "Jack! Jack! JACK!"
There was a momentary pause and then.. "Jerry?"
"Nah man, it's Milton," Jerry snarked. "Dude, where the hell have you been? And what's Blondie doing with you? Actually, I don't want to know."
He pressed the phone to his ear and started pacing. "Where's Tootside?"
His friends watched as Jerry's expression went through a range of motions: beginning with annoyance, to curiosity, and finally settling to something akin to fear.
"Define 'incident.'"
A/N: For fun, I'm gonna add song recs to go along with the party theme. I think Brain Stew by Green Day fits the mood for this one.
Let me know what you guys think.
