Peter Pan, 2004

Genre—Parody/General

Rating—PG-13

Author—Buttons14

Summary—What if the old story of Peter Pan took place in modern day New York? What would Wendy's reaction be to Peter? Would she even go to Neverland with him?

Chapter 1—Story Time

Wendy lay in bed and stared at the ceiling fan as it spun methodically. It whirred and hummed to her an enchanting lullaby, trying to send her to sleep. Somewhere in the distance she could see a distinct image of Justin Timberlake singing to her, in her dream, of course. Cry me a river…

Crash!

Wendy jerked fully awake. That wasn't part of the song.

==

"Wendy," Michael curled up at the foot of Wendy's bed. "Tell me a story, please? My friend, David, his sister tells him stories before he goes to bed. Please, tell me one!"

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease. I know David's sister. She's such a bag lady. She looks like she's fifty."

"Oh Wendy, won't you tell me a story?"

"No," Wendy shoved Michael off her bed. "I'll tell you a story when I'm fifty, OK?"

Michael thought about this for a few seconds. "How long will that be, then?"

"Thirty-six years," said Wendy smugly.

Michael looked very sad. "I can't wait thirty-six years. Please! It will only take a minute!"

Wendy glared at him. "Fine, only one minute. And do you promise to get out of my room when the story's done?"

Michael nodded enthusiastically. "I promise."

"Fine," Wendy pouted and began to weave her story in her head.

Michael jumped up. "Wait! Don't start! I have to call John!"

"John hardly cares about my story."

Michael ignored her and called his brother. "John! Come quick! Wendy's telling a bedtime story!"

John appeared at the door and looked in, amused. "What's this Wen? A bedtime story?" this last bit he said with a sugary tone.

"Screw off," hissed Wendy.

Instead John just smiled and sat on the floor. "I'm getting sleepy. Tell me the story!"

Though he said this mockingly Michael appeared to not have heard. "Yes, tell the story!" He clutched his teddy close to his chest.

Wendy sighed. "Once upon a time—"

"What time?" asked John, rudely.

"This time. 2004, whatever. May I continue?"

Michael nodded happily.

"Once upon 2004, there was a boy. He lived in—"

John interrupted again. "What was this boy's name?"

"Um…" Wendy scanned the room for inspiration. She spotted a magazine on her bedside table, boasting a picture of Spiderman from the new movie. "Peter."

"Peter what?" John was grinning, knowing that he was getting on his sister's nerves.

"Pan, the exact thing I will bring to your head if you don't shut up," Wendy growled.

John just smiled politely and waved his hand. "I will restrain." He smirked.

"OK, once upon 2004 there was a boy named Peter Pan. He lived in a land far away, where no other people had been—"

"What was it called?" this time Michael asked. John sniggered beneath his hand.

"Neverland, because if it keeps going at this rate I'll never get this story done."

Michael's mouth formed an 'O'. "May I ask another question?" he asked timidly.

"You just did," snarled Wendy. "He lived far away—"

"Why had no other people been there before? Was it invisible?"

"No, Michael, it was in the sky. Are you happy?"

John laughed. "I am!"

"Oh, shut up John."

Michael shook his head. "Don't say that word Wendy, it's bad." He covered Teddy's ears.

"One day Peter Pan was…um…flying around Neverland," Michael's eyes grew large at the word 'flying', "…and he saw a giant band of pirates, not unlike the ones from Pirates of the Caribbean. They were firing cannons at…Indians—"

"Did the Indians get hurt?" asked John innocently.

"No, but you soon will if you don't stop interrupting me!" exclaimed Wendy, throwing a pillow at John.

"Wendy! Hurry with the story!" yelled Michael, twirling Teddy in the air.

"And so he flew down to the pirate in charge, and said—"

"What was his name?"

"Long John Silver," Wendy glared at John, who had asked the question.

"I think that's copyrighted Wen, you'll have to pick another name." John pretended to check a list. "Let's see, you can have Captain Bob, Captain Joe, Captain Hook, Captain Paul, Captain Dave—"

"Oh! Wendy! Pick Captain Hook!" encouraged Michael.

"Fine, he flew down to Captain Hook and said 'look here, stop pestering these poor Indians!' But Captain Hook wouldn't. Instead he grabbed Peter Pan by the collar and said 'get lost you pesky boy!' For Captain Hook hated Peter Pan for trying to…uh…feed him to a crocodile once--"

"Is that how he got his hook?" asked Michael, enthralled.

"Yes, I suppose. Hook has a missing hand and he uses it to…peel the skin off little boys who don't let their sister's go to bed…"

Michael held Teddy tightly. "Wow, I'm glad I'm not like that!"

Wendy scowled and continued. "And so now the crocodile really wanted to eat Hook, except Hook, being the devilish man that he was, fed the crocodile a clock so he would hear him before he came. So Hook grabbed Peter Pan and was about to puncture his skin with his ruby encrusted hook when—"

Michael yelped and hid his eyes behind his hands, as if he were watching a scary movie.

"When Peter's fairy—"

All of a sudden Michael perked up. "Peter has a fairy? What does it look like? What is it called?"

"It looks like a drugged-up supermodel, only smaller. And he calls it Tinkerbell."

"Wow! I want a Tinkerbell!"

"Michael, be quiet! Let lil' old Wendy finish her story," said John with false sweetness.

"And then Tinkerbell covered Hook in fairy dust and he floated away and lost hold of Peter. While Hook's crew was retrieving Hook from the mast of the ship Peter and Tinkerbell flew away."

Michael applauded. "Yay! Thanks Wendy!" he grabbed Teddy and ran out of the room.

John followed him. "That was bad Wen, very, very bad."

"Shut up," she said, hitting him as he walked past her. After he shut the door Wendy turned off the lights and struggled with sleep.

==

Crash!

The sound came again.

"Oh shit!" hissed someone in another room. "Tink! Tink! Help me out here!"

Wendy pressed her eyes closed, as if willing the sound to cease. It didn't.

"Tink! Tink! Tinkerbell!" Wendy's eye's popped open. Did he just say…?

She crept out of bed and cracked the door open to the hall. Outside, next to the open window, she could see the dark outline of someone hopping around on one foot, the wastebasket stuck on the other. Around his head fluttered a yellow-orange light, somewhat like a firefly.

Wendy shut the door and leaned against it for a minute. She heard another crash and reopened the door. For a second she thought the strange boy had left, except she saw he had just fallen to the ground and was leaning against the stair rail.

The boy looked up and Wendy caught a glimpse of his face as the firefly thing flew close to it. Wendy snapped the door shut quickly, but he had seen her. He sat up and hovered over to the door, the firefly in tow. Cautiously he pushed the door open.

The firefly flew in first, partially lighting Wendy's room and causing her to scream. The boy pushed his way in next.

"Oh, hello," he said cheerfully, seeming to have forgotten the wastebasket on his foot.

"Who the—who are you?" asked Wendy incredulously.

The boy looked confused for a minute. "Me? As in my name?"

Wendy nodded, "Yes, your name!"

"Oh, I'm called Peter. What about you?" He hovered closed to the ground, crossing his legs as if he were sitting.

"I…I'm Wendy." She swallowed nervously. "Are you Peter Pan?"

He laughed. "No, I'm Peter Pot."

Wendy relaxed for a minute. He wasn't the same boy, he couldn't be.

"Of course I'm Peter Pan! What other Peters are there?'

For a minute Wendy debated telling the strange boy about people she knew named Peter, but thought better of it. Instead she turned on her bedside light.

The boy was a little taller than Wendy, very skinny and had curly, blondish brown hair. His eyes were blue and twinkled happily, as if this were nothing unusual. As if he broke into fourteen-year-old girls' houses all the time.

A faint tingling sound reminded Wendy of the firefly.

"Oh, yes," said Peter quickly. "This is Tinkerbell. She's a fairy."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "A firefly, more like it. There's no such thing as—"

"Ssh!" Peter hushed her by pressing his hand over her mouth. "Don't say that! You don't believe in fairies?" he asked, as though everyone in their right mind should.

Wendy shook her head. Tinkerbell pulled her hair. "Ouch!" yelled Wendy.

Peter caught Tinkerbell in his hand. "Tink! Be nice to her!" he scolded the pint-sized supermodel.

Tinkerbell chattered and flew out of his hand.

Wendy watched her. This was all too weird.

"You're not, by any chance from…" Wendy trailed off, afraid to ask.

"Neverland?" Peter nodded.

Oh crap, thought Wendy. What have I gotten myself into?

End Chapter

Well, this is my first Peter Pan fiction. I hope you enjoy it and please review! I accept all suggestion with open arms. Maybe even a beta reader. I'm not the best with spelling.