Mons-only Night
"Twenty-three, twenty-four..."
Angemon sighed.
"Angemon," Wargreymon began, "how do you get that glossy sheen to your hair?"
Angemon shifted, still brushing. "Well, it has a lot to do with the conditioning. And the brushing. Definitely a lot of brushing."
Wargreymon sighed, fingering his hair. "Look at this. It's so coarse."
Angemon put a finger through it. "It's fine," he assured him. "All you need is a little conditioner. That's all." He got up off the bed, walked over to the vanity, and picked up a bottle. Handing it to Wargreymon, he sat and leaned in close. "This is what I use. I've got plenty; you can have this."
Wargreymon looked at the bottle and then back at Angemon. "You really think it'll work?"
"Like a charm. Besides, your hair naturally has a fine texture. Look at your roots. I wish I had roots like that."
The two looked at each other and giggled mischievously.
"Do you have anything for these nails?" Zudamon asked, who was sprawled on the futon and attempting to file his nails. "Ugh! And how do you do your cuticles?"
Wargreymon spoke up. "Actually, I get them done at the salon." He leaned over the edge of the bed, lifting his legs in the air behind him. "There's this great place called 'Le Style du Jour' down on Fourth and Main. Ask for Antonio—he's a wonder," he said, emphasizing the last word with a roll of his eyes.
"No kidding!" Angemon exclaimed. "That's where I go to get my facials!"
"Antonio do yours too?"
"No. I have Jerry do mine." He leaned in and said softly, "Fran
¸ oise is pretty cute, huh?"Angemon slapped Weregarurumon lightly on the back. "Oh you!"
Wargreymn sighed, kicking his legs in the air. "It's too bad she's got an Etomon complex though." The two giggled.
"Excuse me!" Zudamon said with exasperation. "I'm having a crisis here!"
Angemon threw a pillow at Zudamon, which he barely caught in time. Zudamon arched his eyebrows and put his hand on his hips. "Don't make me come over there!" he threatened.
Wargreymon quickly threw another pillow at him which caught him full in the face. "All right! That's it!" Zudamon got up and lunged forward, attacking the two with a pillow. Wargreymon shielded himself from the blows as Angemon armed himself with another pillow. As the two savagely beat each other, Wargreymon was able to grab a pillow and begin a counter-offensive of his own.
Minutes later, the three lay about the room panting, with bits of feathers floating about. "Truce?" Zudamon offered.
"I guess," Wargreymon answered, breathing hard.
Angemon's response was a little different. He got up and started another flurry of blows, sending the entire group into a very real re-creation of World War II. After a few minutes, though, Angemon's initial blitzkrieg began to lose its momentum as the other two closed in. Wargreymon was constantly switching sides, always demanding his ally to open a second front. Meanwhile, Zudamon, even in the most dire of situations, held his own despite Angemon's continued air raids. It all culminated in one fantastic final push where Angemon counter-attacked, completely disregarding all defensives for a quick surprise offensive. This Battle of the Bulge was not successful, though, and in the end he was forced into unconditional surrender by the other two.
"All right. Now the good stuff—the punishment." Wargreymon giggled, rubbing his hands together in delight.
Zudamon jumped onto the bed and smiled mischievously. "Truth or dare?"
"Oh no!" Wargreymon dismissed. "Nothing that base." He put a claw on his chin in thought. "Perhaps something with the girls..."
"Yes, definitely," Zudamon commented. "But what?" Then Zudamon's eyes lit up. "Invade their lodgings?"
"No, no, no. Something like...like...well, I'm not sure..." Wargreymon trailed off. "But for now he can do our hair," he added eagerly, pressing the comb into Angemon's hands.
Sighing, Angemon put his hands up in submission. "O.K., you win." He started brushing Wargreymon's hair.
"So, Angemon," Zudamon began. "What's going on with you?"
"Why whatever do you mean?"
"You know." Zudamon winked. "The 'others.'"
"Ah, my sweet fair maidens, I suppose you mean."
"Of course."
Angemon thought for a moment. "It's a hard choice. On the one hand, there's the issue of the body, and on the other hand, the intellect. I mean I want an attractive one, but they are usually pretty empty upstairs." He sighed.
"It's a cruel world, ain't it?" Wargreymon said, smiling.
"Zudamon and Angemon hit Wargreymon lightly on the head. "So," Angemon began. "What are you going to wear for the dance?"
"You mean the one this Saturday?" Wargreymon inquired
"That's the one," Angemon confirmed.
Wargreymon looked up at the ceiling. "Well, there is that nice black tuxedo suit. You know," he said, turning to Zudamon, "the one with the pink tie?"
"Hmmm. That one's real sharp," Zudamon commented.
"Yes, that's true. But how risky am I willing to be? Should I go for something a little more revealing?"
The other two giggled with childish joy.
"You know, I heard a few rumors about you," Zudamon said to Angemon.
"Oh?" Angemon asked, eyeing him from above.
"Oh yes." He smiled, lowering his voice and glancing about the room as if someone else were listening. "Is it true that your going to the dance with Angewoman?"
At first Angemon made no reaction. But then he vigorously nodded his head, and the two clasped hands, making a soft screech of excitement. Wargreymon asked, "So how did you do it?"
"What do you mean?" Angemon asked.
"What's your secret," Wargreymon pressed in that sly-devil tone. "You know there's one."
"No, there isn't. I was just being...me. You know that stuff."
Wargreymon put his hands on his hips. "C'mon, now, you can tell your ol' friend here."
Angemon lowered his voice. "Promise not to tell?" he said with eager anticipation. The other two nodded vigorously. He got up and brought over a bottle of clear liquid. "See this? This is the secret to the opposite sex—Calvin Klein formula twelve."
The other two oh'd and ah'd as they examined the bottle and sniffed a sample. Wargreymon sniffed again. "Oh yes. This will really do it." Zudamon folded his hands under his chin and looked dreamily at the sky. "Oh take me, Wargreymon," he said in a high falsetto voice. They all laughed.
Suddenly the door opened. Immediately, everything disappeared into hiding—the cologne, the conditioner, the brushes—everything. Standing at the doorway were Angewoman and Lilymon. Angewoman had her hands on her hips and Lilymon had her arm along up in the door frame, her small figure leaning against it. Both wore looks of exasperation.
"And so I gave him one look," Wargreymon said, "and bam! I sure gave him what was coming to him!"
The girls in the doorway made violent sounds of disgust. "What's the matter with you boys?" Angewoman asked.
"So violent, and so immature," Lilymon said, making a sniffing sound of derision.
"C'mon," Angewoman said. "Let's leave these kids to play their games." The two made a production out of tossing their hair behind them and leaving without turning back.
The guys looked at each other gravely for a moment before breaking out into laughter. Angemon brought out the comb and continued to brush Wargreymon's hair. Zudamon tried to file his nails properly as Wargreymon loked through a catalogue of latest fashions.
"So," Wargreymon began. "Where did you get that tuna-noodle casserole recipe from last week? It was to die for."
"Oh, it was nothing," Zudamon said. "I clipped it from Better Homes and Gardens. I swear, they must have the best recipes..."
Afterword
Angewoman sat down on the reclining chair and pulled the lever to bring the chair into its most extreme reclining position. Lilymon plopped herself on the couch, not caring about its shabbiness. As Angewoman flipped through the 150 channels of the T.V. looking for a football game, Lilymon idly reached into an ice chest by the couch looking for beer. She fished out a few cans only to find out that they were empty. These she tossed idly over her head and behind the couch. Finally, she found two beers and tossed one to Angewoman, who reached out a quick hand and snatched the can out of the air. The two opened their cans simultaneously.
Angewoman, having found her football game, took a long sip and made a loud burping sound. Lilymon took a loud sip and began to scratch herself. The two watched, making moans and groans of approval and disapproval as the Patriots were somehow pounding the Forty-Niners. "Oh, come on! Did you see that?" Angewoman screamed with frustration. "That was an incomplete pass, you idiot, not a fumble! Ugh! What kind of refs are these?"
"I told you!" Lilymon said, with a triumphant swig of her can. "It's all about the Patriots. Can't beat 'em. They're east coast, ya know."
"Ah, ah, ah!" Angewoman interjected. "Don't you get me started with that one..."