One Letter Stand

OH MY GOD I ALMOST FORGOT.

Tassel and I were at a huge party (we played visual telephone, complete with A Very Potter Musical jokes), and I just realized that I still had to write this. So for all our new readers, hi, I'm Ninja C. As you can "C" (haha), I'm very scatterbrained, punny, enthusiastic, and BUSY.

Without further ado, as I only have, like, twenty minutes left to write this, here's B.

Disclaimer: I'm just surprised JP can come up with titles anymore. Whereas I, your wonderful co-author of this fic, made up this fabulous name. Aren't you so glad I'm me?

B is for: Birthday
By Ninja C

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAX!"

I screamed and leapt out of bed, ready for whatever was coming at me.

The kids all stared like I was crazy. Gazzy farted.

"Ewwww!" Nudge squealed. "Not on Max's birthday, Gazzy!"

Plugging my nose, I thought, Birthday? Is that today? You could see how important this day was to me, as I had forgotten it.

"Aww!" Gazzy complained. "I wanted to show her what I did!"

"Besides soil your pants?" I asked nasally, still holding my nose and trying to get the putrid taste from my mouth.

Gazzy made a face. Nudge, Angel, and I looked at each other warily. I was beginning to fear what Gazzy had allegedly done.

"Now, Gasser," I motioned to the girls to run, which they did, "is this going to be like when you were a baby and couldn't talk except through your gas?" Fang slipped into the room silently, poised to grab the Gasman and run. Gazzy's face turned red. "Oh, God, please no," I begged whatever higher being there was, shielding my face.

Fang snatched the little guy and bolted out the door, just as Gazzy let out an almighty "HAPP-Y-BIRTH-DAY" in farts. I heard retching noises from outside my door.

Fang lay prostrate on the floor, choking and squinting through the haze that the Gasman had emitted. Gazzy himself was kneeling over Fang. I went over to join him in his leaning, attaching the emergency clothespin to my nose.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Gasser asked in concern. I was beginning to fear that he was becoming impervious to the effects of his own gas.

Fang just glared at me half-heartedly and said, "You'd better… be glad it's… your birthday."

SUCCESS! NaNo did me more good than harm, I suppose.

Akira, you're up with C is for Crazy Cute by Sunday.