Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, Jamba Juice, McDonald's, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Pizza Hut, Jamba Juice, Finding Nemo, Beethoven, the movie Supersize Me, Sunset Boulevard, or the Hollywood Sign. I own who-the-heck, whose real name is Robin.(he's got issues)
A/N: AHHH!!! Run for the hills! She's back! She's back! With... this. Thing.
No, I'm not really back. Just here for a short visit. Not that many of you care.
ANYWAY, read this at your own caution. It was spawned from procrastination, a wandering mind, boredom, and, uh, everything and nothing all at once. Max's mood reflects mine when I first started this. I wrote the first part, came back after a couple of weeks, wrote the second, came back the next day, and finished it up. Enjoy. Or be weirded out.
Of Smoothies, Statistics, and Skunks
It was just one of those days.
"What the hell does that mean?"
Max glanced up, surprised that she had actually said that aloud. "What?" She asked, feigning ignorance.
Fang scowled at her. "Stop talking to yourself. It's confusing."
Frowning, Max sighed and went back to whatever-the-heck she had been doing. Which was, actually, nothing. Spacing out. Something.
Anyway, as we were saying before we were so rudely interrupted, it was just One of Those Days. You know, with the capitalization and everything.
One of those days when you're feeling so lethargic and bored that you could not really give a flapping flipping fekkin' hoot about evil crazy wolf-monster-things that want to suck your blood(okay, not really) or flying children. And inside your head, there is a tiny little voice saying "Nnnneugrhgghhh… So bored."
Eat your brains, it isn't THE VOICE.
Anyway, said wolf-monster-things were nowhere in sight. And the flying children… were currently, well, flying.
Any other day, Max would have joined in that happy little game they were playing- she couldn't really tell from her perch in the tree what exactly it was- but today, she felt content(or not so much) to sit around on her butt.
Chalk it up to PMS, if you want.
Either way, she was bored. And lazy. And altogether not-participating. Even though it was an absolutely gorgeous day, with the sun shining through the treetops and the sky so blue you could just lick cotton candy clouds all flipping flapping fekkin' day. She just couldn't bring herself to do anything. Weird, especially since, by now, Fang had even joined in.
Odd. Fang, most-likely-to-be-the-leader-of-a-cult, mister McEmoPants, was having fun. And smiling, it looked like.
He glanced up to see her watching him, and the satisfied curl of his lips disappeared as soon as it had come as he looked away.
She almost wanted to yell "AH-HA! SO YOU DO SMILE, YOU FREAKING ICE CUBE!" but she knew that'd look really weird. Not to mention, he'd probably be offended at being called an ice cube and insist that he was a glacier, which was manlier and not as puny.
Well, she'll call him an ice cube if she wants to, just to show glacier-boy.
She scrunched her nose, leaning back on the branch she was propped up against.
And then fell out of the tree.
She landed with a muffled thud, and after getting over the initial pain, began to laugh hysterically. The flock, who had witnessed the extremely graceful plunge towards the ground, stopped their silly little game to see if she was okay. By the time she started laughing, they were starting to worry.
"I think she hit her head pretty hard," Nudge remarked, staring down at the still-laughing Max, who, at that point, had tears in her eyes.
"…More proof that she's crazy," Iggy muttered.
Max wheezed violently, chuckling and attempting to speak. "…not... crazy…"
"Dude! She can talk!"
Weakly, Max attempted to level a glare in the direction of the blind bird-kid, but it failed on two accounts: one, she was still laughing, and seven, he couldn't see it anyway.
(Seven?)
Max was suddenly reminded of that one part in Finding Nemo when one of the little sea-turtles, with his giant eyes and tricked-out stoner voice, asked "Did you die?"
No, little crazy child, I merely went on an existential journey through time in space, floating through all those good vibrations and feeling the waves and the music of my soul drifting through me. Groovy, baby.
"Maybe we should take her to see a doctor."
"Did she really just say groovy?"
Max snapped her mouth shut. Really got to stop thinking out loud.
-
So, because she was acting so strange, according to the flock, they decided to take her to someplace… Not so quiet, so she wouldn't focus on whatever-the-heck she was thinking in her mind.
What's the difference between a Corvette and a thousand dead babies?
And where's the best place to go when you want to stop thinking about random crap?
Los Angeles. Duh.
(Where were you thinking?)
And because they could, they decided to hang out on Sunset Boulevard. Because they can.
Max thought the palm trees were cool, and had a sudden urge to shinny up one to see if it had any coconuts she could eat. She ignored it as best she could.
But she could go for something coconut-y.
So when a magical Jamba Juice store popped up on the street, she nearly veered out into traffic just to get to it.
But she didn't want to die. And settled for pointing it out to the flock.
"Smoothies. Now."
There was very little protest, as the heat was starting to get to all of them, and a smoothie actually did sound very good. Especially one from Jamba Juice.
They went across the street (in a legal and safe way, aka while using the crosswalk) and entered the smoothie shop to the pungent smell of citrus and the cacophony of the blenders crackling.
After purchasing their blended drinks, courtesy of Max Ride bank account thank-you-very-much, they headed back out into the street, Max still feeling odd but also slightly satisfied with the very coconut-y flavor in her drink.
That is, until she dropped it all together.
To be fair, it wasn't her fault. At all. It was some guy's fault. He walked by, bumped into Max, and whoops, bye-bye smoothie.
The expression on her face made it seem like someone had just told her that the world was slowly being taken over by psycho-wolf-things and disembodied Voices were being implanted into peoples' brains in order to ensure stability (or insanity, whichever you prefer).
"You!" She yelled, pointing an incriminating finger at the guy who'd run into her. He couldn't be much older than herself, and he didn't look apologetic at all. A little pissed.
What crawled up his ass and died?
Maybe she would have stopped and pondered the answer to that question, were it any other day on which random questions popped into her head like rabbits reproducing, but as it was, her drink was gone, she was mad, and she wanted revenge.
(Insert evil, maniacal laughter.)
"Apologize," She demanded of who-the-heck, pointing to the empty Styrofoam cup lying at his feet.
He looked offended, but shook it off quickly. "Excuse me? It's your drink that's all over my fucking shoes."
It was? Oh. It was.
At that moment, Max realized it had been a skunk that had crawled up his ass and died. Not the most pleasant of animals, but it explained a lot.
She was about to say something else when Fang interjected, looping an arm around her shoulders. He waved to the kid apologetically.
"Ignore her. She hasn't taken her medicine today."
Max opened her mouth again, but then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, a lone seagull swooped down from the sky and laid a big wet doo-doo on who-the-heck's head.
"Flipping, flying, flapping, fekkin' WOW." Was all she managed to say before the rest of the flock burst into laughter.
Who-the-heck did not look happy. It made her wonder just how far up that skunk had gotten before it kicked the bucket.
Everyone was laughing so hard, however, that nobody noticed when Total, who really wanted a sip of Angel's drink, jumped up and knocked it over.
Onto who-the-heck's shirt.
The laughter stopped. Time stopped.
Max's brain stopped.
Well, not completely.
(WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH THE PRICE OF RICE IN CHINA?!)
"You little punks are gonna get it," WTH growled, wiping slushy pink crap from the front of his white shirt.
Hmm. Not a good sign.
And that's probably why Max bolted, running down the street like a madman. The flock blinked after her for a split second before erupting into chaos.
Total started yapping at WTH (you know, that annoying way that small dogs just bark and bark and DON'T STOP) at the same time that Fang made a running start after the girl screaming down the sidewalk before he realized that the flock wasn't moving, stopped, turned, slid on spilled smoothie, and crashed into Iggy, who crashed into a pole, which prompted Nudge's laughter, which alerted the attention of Angel and the Gasman, who then started laughing too once they realized what had happened, and Total was still barking.
Pulling himself out of the Iggy-sandwich Fang and the pole had made, Iggy shut Gazzy up with an effective smack on the head while Fang really did follow after Max this time, shouting, "Ig, take control while I get her back!"
And then he was gone.
-
The day ended with the flock standing on the Hollywood sign.
"I wonder how many people have fallen from this thing," Nudge wondered aloud, peeking over the edge of the second column on the H.
"Do you really want to be one of them?" Fang muttered, snagging the back of her shirt in his hand and pulling her back. She glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling.
"I won't be another statistic, Fnicky. Remember these?" And she wiggled out of his grip, pushing her wings out so they spread on both sides, nearly knocking over Angel as they did. "Whoops- sorry."
The argument was over before it started.
Max, somewhere between the ground and the third O, was busy doing nothing. Makes sense, eh?
No, I didn't think it did either.
However, when Fang suddenly swooped out of nowhere and landed right next to her, she nearly jumped out of her pants out of fright.
(He probably wouldn't have minded that.)
"Stop being a vampire!" She accused of him, staggering away.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
Silence.
Above, Angel was singing to the tune of that stupid McDonald's song. "McDonald's, McDonald's! Kentucky Fried Chicken and a PIZZA HUT!"
Max knew she shouldn't have let the kiddies watch Supersize Me that one time. Horrible, greasy fat foods… Giving you the McGrumbles and the McStomach-ache…
Gastric bypass surgery?
"Max."
And then the symphony of Beethoven! The fifth, the fourth?
What?
"Ma-ax."
"What?"
"Are you okay? You've been Out of It. All day."
Max glanced up at Fang's face, eying him. He looked really hot in the fading sunlight, the trees casting glimmering shadows across his features.
It's fine. I've just really wanted to kiss you all day.
Oh, yes, that's all.
But then, that wasn't necessarily true, considering she hadn't even been thinking about kissing him, or his stupid, sexy lips. Well, aside from freaking because they'd shared an "indirect kiss" after he asked for a sip of her smoothie (he hadn't gotten one, the ice cube), she hadn't been having any romantic fantasies of her best friend.
"Hey, Fang?"
"Huh?"
"Happy birthday."
"What- oh, right, that's today, huh."
"Yeah, just remembered."
"Yeah."
"…"
"…"
By now, her little mental cold from this morning had died down- she didn't feel nearly so bizarre as she had. And that was a good thing.
Max never wanted to think about skunks stuck up people's asses ever again.
A/N: I apologize for the crappy ending. And the music they play in the gastric bypass surgery part is, I think, called Blue Danube Waltz. Not by Beethoven. Max is just crazy like that. And I don't think there are any coconut flavored drinks at Jamba Juice, but it's my story, and besides. In Hollywood, anything can happen.
And before you ask: I didn't make Max and Fang kiss because I can. They'll get to that some other day.
Something you must remember: this has no point. Don't ask about one. It does not exist.
Review, yes?