A/N: no one read or reviewed, so I just wrote another chapter. TAKE THAT YOU PEOPLE WHO REFUSE TO REVIEW MY STORY!! Ahem. Sorry about that. Anyway, here's chapter two.
Disclaimer: completely OOC, in which Fang can't stop talking, Nudge rants, and Iggy is…well…Iggy
Half an hour later, Fang approached Gazzy and Max with yet another moronic grin on his face.
"I've finished my masterpiece!"
"Yes?" his fellow flock members replied tiredly.
Fang pulled the cover off a large silver plate, grinning like a psychopath as he revealed...
...well...
...The Gasman and Max were speechless.
But Nudge, who had momentarily turned away from her own creative processes to view Fang's "culinary masterpiece", was not.
"WHAT THE BLOODY SPOTTED ZEBRA DID YOU DO, YOU BULBOUS-BEAKED BAFFOON?!"
Fang looked hurt and bewildered. "Wha...?"
"YOU MESSED UP A SANDWICH!!"
"I did?" Fang asked, puzzled.
"YES, you did! How can you mess up a sandwich?! You're SUCH an idiot, Fang, really, how could anyone be such a complete flippin' bloody banana-faced imbecile, you've really. . ."
"I think what the problem is, Fang," Iggy offered, putting a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "…is that you've put it together in...well...a slightly different fashion than Nudge is accustomed to."
"I have? What'd I do wrong?"
"Well... you've put it together inside-out," Max answered for Iggy, indicating the slices of bread placed on top of each other, some sort of spread on the top and bottom, but not between the slices of bread.
"Oh. That's wrong?" Fang asked naïvely.
"YES, it's WRONG!" Nudge screamed, as she continued her outburst...
"Hey Fang," Max asked inquisitively as she studied the sandwiches. "What kind of sandwiches are these?"
"Lemon fluff and Spam," he answered nonchalantly.
"WHAT?!" his five bird kid friends cried in alarm.
"Fang, that's NOT a safe combination," Max warned...
An hour after Fang's...uh...culinary skills (or, rather, lack thereof) had been revealed to his poor mutant friends, Max called out from the dining area:
"N-UDGE! You done yet??"
"No!" Nudge replied from the kitchen.
"C'mon! I want us to get back to homework sometime this week!"
"I'm almost done!"
Max sighed loudly. "Alright..."
"C'mon, Max," Iggy said gently. "Let her have her fun. Goodness knows there's little enough she's good at, besides talking, so let her make her sandwich."
"And what makes you think she'll be any good at that?"
"She can't be any worse than Fang, can she?"
"HEY!" Fang protested. "It was edible!!"
"Depends on your definition of 'edible'..." Max muttered.
"Well, actually, by definition..." Iggy began.
"Iggs?"
"Huh?"
"Just...stop. Please."
And then, as if anybody actually wanted him to, Fang burst out into another U2 song rant. (A/N: I'm sorry….I just had to add this in. Fang singing U2 songs….tee hee!) "Pleeeeeaaaassse, pleeeeaaaaasse, get UP OFF YER KNEEEEEEES,
PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSEEE..."
"SHUT UP, FANG!!"
Fang froze, his mouth still open. Then he shut it. And sulked.
For about ten seconds.
Then he started up again. "Hey, d'you guys remember Nudge's school lunches? Those were great...posh food in her comprehensive lunchbox..." Fang chuckled at the memory.
"Fang?"
"Yeah Iggy?"
"I'd like to conduct an experiment, if you don't mind."
"Sure! ...ehm, as long as it doesn't involve me acting like an idiot (which he already does, but I would like to keep him in a bliss-filled state of ignorance) or make me, like...like..."
"Spontaneously explode into millions of atoms?" Gazzy supplied cheerfully.
"What about me?" Nudge called from the kitchen.
"Nothing, Nudge," Max yelled back. "God," she muttered. "That would be terrible, having millions of Nudges--!"
"So what's the experiment, Iggy?" Fang asked.
"Well... Fang, is it actually possible for you to suppress your seemingly limitless loquacious tendencies for any measurable amount of time?"
"Huh?"
"Can you shut up for two minutes?!" Max translated irritably.
"Oh." Fang paused.
"No."
Then, at long last, Nudge joined the rest, grinning. In her right hand, she carried an old, but still in mint condition, still shiny, lunchbox. She sat down on a stool.
And she was, for once, silent.
Nudge looked at her fellow flock members, still grinning.
Max sighed, looking bored as she sat behind the kitchen counter, arms folded. "Alright, Nudge. What's in the lunchbox?"
Nudge shook her head. "Guess."
"N-udge!"
But Fang and Iggy ignored Max's protests, and eagerly followed Nudge's decree.
"Cheese," Iggy guessed.
"Nope."
"Lemon?" Fang asked.
"Nope."
"Guitar pick?"
"Still nope."
"I know!" Fang cried, excited. "Pickles!"
Nudge giggled. "Nope."
"Aww..."
"Enough, Nudge," the now impatient Max grumbled. "Just tell us what's in the stupid thing, so we can do something remotely interesting."
Nudge shook her head, nose in the air. "Nope. Not until you guys guess."
Max let out a loud noise of exasperation, and leaned back…
...completely forgetting that there wasn't a back to the stool. Or a wall directly behind her. Or anything, in fact, to prevent her from falling off the stool and onto the floor.
Thus, she proceeded to do so.
The other five were in silent shock for a moment.
"DON'T YOU DARE SAY A WORD," Max growled in a very threatening manner.
Knowing very well that Max could beat them all to a rather messy pulp in a matter of seconds, they remained silent.
Though this didn't stop them from exchanging extremely amused glances and silently chuckling as the agitated flock leader tried to pull herself back up.
And then, just as Max had got herself (carefully) back up on the stool (moaning uncharacteristically about her poor back the entire time)...
Fang laughed.
Out loud.
Very much out loud.
'Cause it was…well…very loud.
Max jumped up and tackled Fang...
And I'm not going to go into details 'cause I think it'd make me squeamish, but suffice to say...
(…one scene of unimaginable violence later…)
Fang lay on the floor, curled up in fetal position, moaning miserably. Max sat contentedly nearby, her back resting against the wall (and yes, this time she did check that there was a wall behind her stool). Angel and Nudge looked on, giggling like mad.
Gazzy, meanwhile, had slunk down to the floor and crept over to where Nudge's old comprehensive lunchbox lay temporarily unsupervised. He glanced furtively about, ensuring that Nudge's attention still lay elsewhere. Which it did. So the Gasman snatched the lunchbox, and opened it.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bright light shone down on the lunchbox, making it sparkle in radiant illumination. A faint angelic chorus was heard, singing harmonious heavenly "ahh"s, as the content of the lunchbox was revealed:
The Perfect Sandwich.
(cue angelic choir)