Disclaimer: I do not own any of the TP characters…Disney does!!

Notes: This takes place on Earth!

Jim glared sullenly at his unknown substance, which bubbled slightly in a small lab pipette. It was a boring Thursday, and class couldn't go more slowly. The teen was really looking forwards to Thanksgiving, which was on Saturday. His other lab partner brought him back to earth.

"So---what's the temperature?" Mark Gomen asked, chewing on a pencil. Jim hastily looked at the Bunsen burner.

"Uh…eighty-two degrees," he replied.

"Well, I guess we're gone," the classmate sighed. Unlike Jim, he was really into chemistry.

"Mrs. Dasfada? We're done!" Jim called. He pointed without enthusiasm at the bluish concoction. His teacher walked over to the large lab table and squinted through her glasses.

"Well done," the woman remarked. Jim strained his neck and tried to see what grade she had given them. He felt amazed when he saw Mrs. Dasfada jot down an "A" for them. Smiling, the teacher walked away to observe the other students. The teen knew that his mom, Sarah Hawkins, would be thrilled that he had gotten a great score. His grades in chemistry weren't that great…

"So---down the sink you go," Mark said to the mixture. He was about to pour the contents out of the glass tube when Jim grabbed his friend's arm.

"What if the stuff clogs the sink? Pour it down one of those holes," the teen said. Sure enough, several holes encircled the gaping mouth of the sink.

"We should probably ask the teacher…" Mark answered, doubtfully.

"Look. You know how moms always tell you not to wash wet flour down the sink because it'll clog the drain?"

Mark Gomen nodded. "Huh. Makes sense," he said. Without hesitation, he carefully emptied the pipette, making sure that the blue liquid didn't splash onto the black table surface. Making a gurgling sound, the remainder of their lab vanished.

"Too bad we finished so soon. That formula was awesome," Mark sighed.

"Get out of here. Chemistry sucks," Jim muttered. His friend shrugged and sat down on a lab stool.

"So---any Thanksgiving plans?" Mark asked.

"It'll be just with my mom; you know…" Jim said, trying to sound like it was the worst thing in the world.

"Wow. That sucks. My relatives are coming over and we'll have a HUGE turkey," Mark cried enthusiastically. He spread out his arms to emphasize the largeness of his future bird. Jim grinned. He immediately stiffened, though, when he saw the expression on his classmate's face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Ah, crap!" Mark hissed, crouching. He was staring intently at something on the beige linoleum floor. Jim followed Mark's gaze and his mouth dropped open. Their liquid was gushing onto the floor from behind their lab table's closed cabinet. Jim opened up the cabinet and saw that the blue substance hadn't actually gone anywhere. It had just flowed down the hole and splashed down into the cabinet.

"Um, I don't think that hole led to the drain," Jim said finally. Already the substance was eating through the cheap wood lining in the cabinet.

"It looks like the venom from the movie Alien," Mark cried.

"Great, thanks for the help," Jim shot back. Visions of aliens sprouting out form their formula were dancing in his head.

"Sorry. Jeez. Maybe if we sopped it up with a paper towel---"

Jim looked up and saw that Mrs. Dasfada was standing near the paper towel dispenser.

"Here," the teen hissed, practically tearing off his black uniform sweater.

"Jim are you sur---"

"Yes!" he cried. Greedily, the blue stuff ate up the wool sweater. The two boys watched with fascination. Soon, though, the liquid began its gorging on the wood. Students were watching curiously, but Jim barely noticed.

"If this doesn't work, I'll scream," Jim whispered. He pulled off his navy blue school shirt. Girls started to giggle.

"Rats! It ate through the cabinet!" Mark hollered. He stared with dismay at Jim, who stood shirtless.

"James Hawkins! What in God's name are you doing?" yelled the teacher. The classroom got quiet.

"Uh, I'm, you know, too hot to wear the uniform," he tried. Kids started to laugh as Jim struck a pose a famous modeler would have envied.

"Here comes an F for me," Mark murmured. Mrs. Dasfada had her suspicions. With a quick gaze she saw what had happened.

"Ah! Oh, my!" she cried. "You've just received an F for this assignment!" she gasped. Jim sank miserably onto his lab stool.

"But Mrs. Dasfafa---"

"If that mixture causes more damage, I'll fail you for the quarter!" she finished, dramatically crossing out their grade with a red felt-tipped pen. Her clipboard quivered as she held it with shaken hands. Jim and Mark exchanged glances.

The next period, while Jim was concentrating on geometry, the electricity went off. Students groaned as the room began to get colder. Nah. This has nothing to do with the lab thing, Jim reassured himself. He glanced down miserably at "his" shirt, which was kindly donated by a teacher. It read, "St. Andrew's High School Staff," in bold white lettering. The teen felt like a dweeb. Without warning, the principal barged in.

"Students. Seeing how there's something wrong with the electricity, school will be cancelled for today," he announced gravely. The kids cheered. The man left, slamming the door.

"Why me?" Jim cried, slamming his head on his desk. His forehead struck the desk with such an impact that the cheap wood split down the middle. With a loud CRACK, the ruined desk crumpled to the floor.

The teen pasted a grin on his face. "Oops."

"Dear Sarah Hawkins--- I the principal of St. Andrew's High School, would like to inform you that your son, James Pleiades Hawkins, is responsible for allowing highly toxic acid to flow down a non-existent pipe. Because of this, our electricity is virtually nonexistent, as the acid simply ate through the main power lines. Also, it has been reported that James has destroyed a desk. The faculty and I have come to a decision---James must make up his chemistry grade over the extended Thanksgiving break (by doing any form of chemistry related experiments) or he will be expelled. With kind regards, Earnest R. Gratis---principal."

Sarah looked up at her son, who was laying down on his bed. She waved the note dramatically in the air.

"Well. This should be interesting," she remarked grimly. Jim groaned and flung a pillow over his head.

"I bet you are good at chemistry---you just need practice."

"Ma---the closest I've ever come to chemistry is when Delbert and I got locked in the elevator at the science museum for two hours," the teen said, sitting up.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Jim. Not chemistry in that way. Cooking is a form of chemistry, too. So, how about you cook some meals for Thanksgiving? I've just invited the Dopplers over."

Jim's heart froze. "WHAT?!" he yelped.

Wow---long chapter. I'm really sorry about pulling out of "The Great Vacation," but my cousins were over practically every day, I had just gotten a puppy…it went on and on. I promise that I will write this fanfic until it's FINISHED!! I know it's really early for a Thanksgiving story, but hopefully it'll stretch on. So---PLEASE review and give suggestions. If you hated it…uh….then, just be polite. Lol.