So here is the next chapter we have something good planned. Something unexpected. MUAH AHAHHA
Fang: See I told you she is evil
K: I am not evil Just well maybe I am evil
Fang: Just a tad
T:Hey have you seen our little taco friend he is missing
fang: I told him to go swimming
K: YOU DID WHAT HE IS A TACO HE WILL GET SOGGY
Fang: I know
T: *shoots Fang with nerf gun*
Fang: Really a nerf gun
T: It's all I have
K: I will go get him
Fang: enjoy the Story.
Max's POV
I turned to yell my head off at Dylan, but I could only see his faint outline in the sky. "Damn," I whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Fang looked like crap, but just more than usual. Gazzy came up next to me. "He's gonna be okay, right?" he asked quietly. I nodded and Iggy explained the extent of Fang's injury to the Flock(s). There wasn't a lot of commotion, thank God, and we were able to lift Fang onto a table. By this time, he had woken up...kinda.
"What's for lunch?" Fang asked groggily, barely opening his eyes. "I want birthday cake..." Gazzy looked at me suspiciously and I leaned down to whisper in his ear. "He'll be fine...He just needs a little time to recover," Gazzy giggled. "And birthday cake!" he added cheerfully. "Can Iggy and I go get some?" I searched through my pockets for money. A few bills and some change. It was a grand total of...$5.37. "Um, this should buy a cupcake or something," I said, handing Gazzy the money. "Get something bigger, if you can, so we can all share."
Fang was just about fully around when Gazzy and Iggy got back. "Hey guys. What's that?" he asked, squinting at the face-sized cupcake they were able to buy. Apparently, the store wanted it out because the cake-maker or whatever wrote Happy Birfhday, Jack! instead of Happy Bithday, Jack!. Didn't matter to Fang, he gobbled up half of it, leaving the rest of us just about a chunk the size of two marbles each. No one seemed to mind, though. "Where is that son of a bitch anyway?" Fang asked, wiping his crumb-and-icing covered mouth on his sleeve. Angel pointed north, exactly where Dylan had flown off. Fang narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Coward," he whispered, and I knew there were many other more colorful names that he could have used to address the situation.
Dylan's POV
Damn, Damn, Damn! I mentally scolded myself as I flew off over some random city I didn't care about.What is your problem? I shook my head and slowed down. I had just ended up pushing Max further and further away. A tall bridge caught my attention. It was just about the only new looking thing in the run-down city.Maybe...I thought, but then shook my head. Suicide would do me no good. This city just might, though.
I flew down, slowly tucking in my wings. Not that I needed to. There was no one around to see me. I walked the abandoned streets, kicking a piece of junk I couldn't even identify. Night was falling fast and my stomach was just about as empty as this city. A drop of cool rain hit my face, then another, and another. Soon, it was pouring. Gee, this day just keeps getting better and better! I thought sarcasticaly. An open door greeted me around a corner I had just turned. Ducking inside, I immediately felt 10 degrees warmer. I must have let out a sigh of relief, because I heard a voice calling out. "Hey? Who's there? Can't you punks let a brother alone?" The voice was raspy and old sounding. Having nothing to lose, I searched for it. It wasn't hard to find. A small flame was burning near the back of the old car garage. That's what I thought it was anyway. "You boys get any closer! Try it! Go on! I got myself a big 'ol rifle back here! An a pretty nasty knife too!" I stepped right up.
"Shoot! You ain't no punk!" the voice said, almost disappointed sounding. I could just barely make out a man. He looked African American, old too. His white hair was curled tightly around his head, covered by a ratty-looking golf hat. A white beard started under his nose and went down to his chin, halfway down his neck. He was wearing a dirty short-sleeved shirt and a vest around his shoulders. Everything seemed to sag off of him, evern his torn jeans. "Sir?" I said, for lack of anything else. "Don't you 'Sir' me! My name's Mason, but you just call me Mace, for shorts. C'mon over here." He patted a pretty shifty looking chair that was probably from the 30's, but I sat anyway. "You gonna catch y'self a cold," he said, sniffing. He reached behind his chair, it looked like it matched mine in age, and pulled out a blanket. "Thanks," I said as he draped it around my shoulders. I didn't see any rifle.
"So what brings you 'round here?" Mace asked, leaning in close to the flames. I took a deep breath and explained what had happened, from me liking Max to beating up Fang, minus the whole bird-kid part. At the end, he was chuckling, making a wheezing sound. That made me mad. "What's so funny?" I demanded, as he handed me a second hot dog. They weren't the best tasting, but they were hot food, better than nothing. "Just thinkin'. Nothin' real funny about it. No sir. But you got churself in a pretty nasty situation there, haven't ya?" I nodded, ashamed and looked down. He patted my back. "We can talk 'bout it more in the moring," he said with another sniff and what looked like a small smile. "You can sleep here, if ya wants to." I nodded quickly, licking my lips. Mace laughed. "Ova here," he said, pointing to a rather lumpy looking pile of blankets. It was heavenly. "Thanks... Mace," I said, crawling in. "No problem, boy. See, you is helpin' me outs too. Protect me from those little creepo punks. From the way it sounds, you is a pretty good fighter!"
Fang: Come on he is okay now
K: Fang he could of DIED
T: You make me sick
Fang: Guys Im sorry I bought you a stuffed dinosaur to make it up to you
K: YOU DID!
T: NO WAY
K: awww he is so cute I shall name him pickles.
Pickles: RAWR FEAR ME
T: awww he is to cute
Pickles: I AM NOT CUTE I AM RUTHELESS FEAR ME
T: Please Review