A/N- Okay, this fic is weird. Well, weirder than my normal ones. I wrote it alone, but Spark ( XxBlackEaglexX ), came up with, like, half the ideas. She let me write it, but I must give her credit. This was created as a team effort.

D7I7S7C7L7A7I7M7E7R7!- The Maximum Ride characters are not my property, and neither are the Transformers. And not even all the ideas are either…Spark helped a lot with this.

THIS FICTION WAS NOT INTENDED TO OFFEND ANY MEXICANS! In fact, a friend of mine is Mexican… Also, the Maximum Ride characters are about 90% sure to be OOC. Just to add to the fun. Plus, I do not speak Spanish. If I make mistakes with what little Spanish I put in, please don't yell at me! And I have no idea what Hola Mustachio means or even if I spelled it right. My friend Bubbles likes to say it, so… C=. Hope you like it!

The Many Faces Of Iggy

Hola Mustachio!

Mmmm…. what was Iggy cooking? It smelled great.

Of course, as usual, the delicious scent reeled me into Mrs. Martinez's kitchen. The Flock always gathered around as Iggy made dinner. It just smelled too good to ignore.

So, I walk into the kitchen, and the first thing I see is Angel, Nudge, Gazzy, and Max already sitting at the table, straining to hold in giggles. What the heck was going on? What was so funny? Did Gazzy put pudding in my hair again?

"Hola Senior!"

HA HA HA HA HA HA THIS IS EPIC! OH MY GOD AWESOME!

Iggy was wearing a sombrero that must have been two feet in diameter, and had somehow sprouted a mustache in the three hours since I last saw him.

…If a mustache is blonde, is it really a mustache? You can't really see it, except when the light, like, glints off of it, and it looks kinda shiny… Maybe if it was hot pink it would be a real man's mustache, not some prissy little girly blonde one. I should grow a pink mustache. Max would love it!

Anyways, he looked ridiculous. I couldn't help but burst out laughing. The rest of the Flock just looked at me for a minute, and then they lost it too. Iggy looked ready to kill us, though.

"Seniors Fang, Max, Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel! I am ashamed of you! Laughing at Mexican culture! How dare you!"

Max started laughing even harder. She was able to choke out a few words in between giggles, though.

"…Girls…are…seniorita!...You're…a….failure….of….a Mexican!"

Iggy went an interesting shade of red and spun around, chopping the taco meat even faster than before.

Wow, he was really taking taco night seriously.

After a while, we were able to tone the hysterics down to the occasional giggle. By then, dinner was ready, and we were quiet as Iggy set the loaded plates in front of us. Nudge picked up her fork and poked hers.

"This isn't made of a Chihuahua, right? Didn't the Aztecs eat Chihuahuas? You wouldn't feed us puppy meat, would you Iggy?"

Gazzy joined in, pointing at his glass. "The Aztecs also made blood sacrifices. Hey Igs, this is fruit punch, right?"

Iggy narrowed his eyes and sat down silently. All through dinner, the teasing got worse and worse.

"Iggy, that hat's big enough to keep a country afloat! Are you expecting a flood?"

"This isn't Mexican. You made it in America, Ig!"

"How on Earth did you grow that mustache so fast? Is it a fake mustache? 'Cause that's an insult to people with mustaches!"

Finally we broke him. Iggy stood up so fast that his chair fell over backwards.

"FINE! IF YOU ARE GOING TO BE SO JUDGEMENTAL OF TACO NIGHT, I'LL JUST LEAVE YOU ALONE SO YOU CAN EAT IN NORMALITY!"

With that he spun around. He would have stomped upstairs to his room, but he tripped on the overturned chair. Blushing red as sunburned giraffe, he limped up the stairs, muttering something about how 'that stupid chair should be eaten by rabid grasshoppers.'

After dinner, I snuck upstairs to Iggy's room. He was asleep, sprawled out on his bed, drooling on his pillow.

"He looks really cute when he's sleeping. Besides the drool, of course."

I spun around, searching for the intruder.

There was a girl sitting on Iggy's desk. I'd never seen her before, but she looked kind of familiar somehow. It was weird, because I couldn't really tell what she looked like. She had on a purple wizard cape with an Autobots tee shirt under it and a big cone wizard hat.

"Oh, you probably don't really remember me, but I'm Spark! I write stories about you, so you know me, but I always have Ratchet erase your memory for me afterwards."

I just gave her a look, and she got sort of uncomfortable.

"Uhh…yeah. RATCHET! HELP! FANG NEEDS A MEMORY ERASE DONE AGAIN!"

I snuck upstairs to Iggy's room. He was asleep, sprawled out on his bed, drooling on his pillow.

I tiptoed closer, and saw his mustache was still there. I tugged lightly on it, but not enough to wake him up.

What the heck? It was real. How on Earth had Iggy sprouted a mustache in less then three hours? He had to teach me that trick sometime. I would love to randomly be able to grow a 'stache.

I was doing him a huge favor with this, though. His white-blonde lip hair was too girly for his own good. I pulled the packet out of my pocket and carefully smeared some of the paste on his mustache. There we go. Iggy's manhood has been restored, thanks to yours truly.

THE NEXT MORNING…

I hope Iggy enjoys his new manly mustache. I had put a lot of thought into the color.

"OH MY GOD WHY IN THE FLYING MONKIES IS MY MUSTACHE HOT PINK?"

Awww… he liked it.