Somewhat inspired by the Jackie Chan movie of the same title.

Note: This fic has been heavily edited — all anime references, in-story author's notes, uppercase abuse, multiple exclamation points and smartass narration styles in the original have been removed — but the canonical snarkiness of the characters remain. Yay!

Disclaimer: All related characters and elements are (c) Craig McCracken.

The Tuxedo
Chapter 1: Spitfire

Under an indigo sky of stars and in a particular house in the suburbs of Townsville, three girls sat in front of a television set, sniggering and slapping their hands against the carpet as they watched an animation of comical stunts and actions.

"Lookadat!" Buttercup yelled. "He's, he's going to . . ."

Splat!

". . . fall down," groaned Bubbles. Then she pouted. "That's so careless of him, isn't it?"

"For goodness sake, it's just a cartoon! Who cares whether he's injured or not!"

"Shut up, Buttercup," Blossom snapped.

"You shut up, Red. This has got nothing to do with you!"

Blossom turned away from the television screen and glared at her green-eyed sibling. "Excuse me," she said testily, "I'm the eldest one here. And you listen to me—"

"Watch what you're saying!" Buttercup yelled back. "Who says you have every right to tell me what to say and what to do?"

Bubbles whimpered, hugging her beloved Octi. "Please . . . I don't want to see you two quarrel . . ."

"Girls!" came the Professor's yell from downstairs. "What's happening?"

Buttercup crossed her arms and stared at the moving pictures on TV furiously, not saying a word.

Blossom sighed, and hovered out of the room. "Nothing, Professor," she called towards the closed laboratory door on the first floor. Then, to herself, she muttered, "Yeah, why not just kill her one day? I can't believe anyone can actually stand being with her . . . I can't believe I have such an unruly sister . . ."

– – –

". . . I can't believe I have such a pathetic brother! Arrgh!" Brick yanked off his cap and tore at his hair.

Butch was sulking. "What do you expect me to do anyway . . ." he mumbled.

"You know, bro," Boomer said enthusiastically, scooting over to Butch. "If you really like her, then tell her! You don't expect her to know without you confessing, right?"

"Shut up, Boomer!" Butch cried. "You're confusing me!"

"Aw, come on, Butch. I faced the same problem once, didn't I? And I told her all the same, didn't I? And now?" A pink heart appeared in each of Boomer's dark blue eyes as a dreamy, ridiculous grin the size of Texas crawled its way up his face. "I've never been more contented in my entire life . . ."

"Yeah, now you look sexually deprived," Butch muttered.

"Butch!"

Butch stared at his redheaded brother, blinking those wide green eyes of his innocently. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked.

"Arrgh!" Brick threw his cap down onto the floor and flew to the phone. He picked up the receiver and put it to his ear (assuming he has any).

There was no dial tone.

"Dang," Brick grumbled, slamming down the receiver. "The line's cut."

"We didn't pay for this lousy apartment, bro," Boomer reminded him. "No water, no phone line, no nothing." He spread out his arms to indicate this, as the small room they were in was only furnished with an old mattress, a square table and a dim ceiling light. And the useless telephone. "They're gonna cut off all the electricity next month."

"Then why don't you pay instead?" Brick flared.

"Knock it off, you two!" Butch was wailing by then. "I already have my troubles! Just shut the hell uuppppp . . ."

Boomer stared thoughtfully at the broken grilles of their solitary window. Then, with a quick "I'll be back!" to the other two, he glided out of it and dived out of sight. Half a second later he zoomed back with a black object in his hand.

"Mobile," he grinned triumphantly. "The fossils downstairs are out."

"You stole?" Butch cried.

"Hey—" Boomer shrugged — "for the sake and future happiness of my beloved bro, I'd do anything."

Butch cringed.

Brick snatched the mobile phone from Boomer and punched in several numbers, before shoving it to Butch's ear (assuming he has any). "Ask her," he ordered.

"Ask her what?"

"Out. Saturday night."

Butch's emerald green eyes widened in horror. "Brick!" he yelled, suddenly hysterical. "Damn you traitor! Wha— what am I supposed to—"

"I'm warning you, watch your mouth." Brick pointed at the phone and glared at his brother fiercely. "Buttercup's gonna pick it up anytime!"

"But—"

Click.

– – –

"Hello? Utonium residence."

"Phf . . . schm—"

Blossom stared at the receiver. Weirdo, she thought.

"Hello-o?"

"Um, uh . . ." There was a splutter from the other end. "This is — this is Butch. Can I speak to, um . . ."

"Oh," said Blossom, nodding her head in sudden comprehension. "So you want to speak to Buttercup." Said sister glared at Blossom, who only gave a dismissive laugh. "Hold on."

Buttercup snatched the receiver from Blossom's hand. "Drop dead," she hissed. Blossom merely huffed and went back to sitting down before the TV. Buttercup then put the phone to her ear (assuming she has any).

"Whassup," she said.

"Phsfrm!"

"Huh?" She frowned.

She heard some scruffles. Then Brick's voice came on: "Hey, lil' Butchie here has something to tell you!"

She blinked. "Oh."

More shoving at the other end. "Uh, Buttercup?"

"Butch?"

Buttercup raised an eyebrow (assuming she has any). Bubbles giggled. Blossom's face looked like a thundercloud.

"Oh, Butch!" she exclaimed in a deliberately loud voice. She shot Blossom a triumphant look — one that might have said 'See, now boys are starting to call me, and Bubbles has too, and you haven't got a single one so there!' or something similar.

By then, Blossom was fuming so much that her face was turning a colour several shades deeper than her eyes. She stomped to the TV and switched it off, then flew back into her own room. (Apparently, Blossom and Buttercup argued so much that Blossom moved into her own room. With the Professor's approval, of course.)

"Hey," Bubbles whined, rising into the air to switch the TV on again. Blossom's bedroom door slammed in reply.

Buttercup chuckled at the commotion, then listened to the other end of the line. "What?" she asked.

"Pfstch . . ."

"What? Speak up!"

"Sprchtltr . . . !"

If Pandora's Box contained Hope, then Buttercup's held Impatience and nothing else. Naturally she got fed up. "If you don't speak properly I'm gonna hang up," she warned.

" . . . and so the day is saved — thanks to . . . the Urnshole Gang!"

"Yay!" This was Bubbles cheering and clapping at the booming TV set.

Buttercup frowned —

"AAAaarrrgghhh!" This was the sound of Blossom screaming into her pillow.

— and twitched —

Miscellaneous muffled thumps. This was the sound of said sister slamming said pillow against the walls and ceiling.

— and gritted her teeth —

"Girls! Keep quiet! I'm trying to concentrate here!" This was Professor Utonium. The one and only.

— and clenched her fists —

"We are the Urnshole Gang, saving the world from all bad slang . . ." This was the end credits of the earlier cartoon.

— and cracked the receiver, oh dear —

"Shut up! Shut up all of you! SHUT UP!" This was Buttercup.

And this was silence.

"And you!" she hollered into the phone. "When I want them to shut up they make noise! And when I want you to talk you shut up! What is wrong with you?"

At the other end of the phone, the poor boy was almost hyperventilating from fright and shock at how Buttercup — the girl he actually wanted to go out with — had suddenly turned into such a monster.

This was still silence. At least, until Butch finally spoke up.

"I-it's like this, Buttercup . . . I was . . . I was just wondering if you'll be f-f-free this Saturday night a-a-at six—"

"What for? Are you trying to get me away from the house so that those brothers of yours can raid our fridge after bedtime?"

"No! It's—"

Someone snatched the phone from Butch. "It's a date!" the interrupter hissed.

"I don't care whether it's a date or a day or a month or a year or whatever!" Buttercup exploded. "And even if it's a date you'd better turn up at the lamp post at the park entrance in a proper tuxedo with a suitable present or else! And can't you talk for yourself?"

"I can! But they— give it back! It's my girl! And— Buttercup, I-I-I take that as a yes—"

The receiver snapped clean into half.

– – –

"Hung up?"

Butch pressed the red button on the mobile dejectedly. "She said—"

"We heard," Boomer sighed. "She was practically screaming into your ear (assuming you have any)."

Brick flipped his cap back onto his head, sighing. "So, is she serious about that tuxedo thing?" he wondered.

Butch shrugged.

Both Brick and Boomer exchanged knowing glances.

"Well, for the sake and future of our beloved brother—" Brick slapped his hand onto Butch's left shoulder and squeezed it tightly, while Boomer looked on sniggering — "I will help you. Just this once."

"Sure . . ." Butch strained a grin at both of them.

-tbc-

I hope that worked out fine! :D

Anyway, this fic will be more focused on the RRB, and therefore the girls will be a little more crude, too. Blossom here is also a little more jealous, bossy and sarcastic than usual.

Stay tuned!