Chapter 4
SnarkMan, his sidekicks, and CatCuddy all arrived at the SnarkCave. They were just in time, too!
"What's wrong?" shouted Wombat a bit too loudly as they all entered the SnarkCave.
"Would you stop shouting?" commanded House.
Wombat seemed confused. Wasn't it his job to shout?
Just then, Wilson came running through the door of what House could only guess was some other Batman knock-off room. Oddly enough, Wilson wasn't wearing his usual vest or tie. Instead, he was fully suited in a tuxedo. He even had a mustache, which oddly enough wasn't the same color as the hair on his head.
"What's wrong, James?" asked SnarkGirl.
House was bewildered. Since when did Cameron call Wilson…James? "Yeah, Wilson, what's up?"
"I do not know why you insist upon calling me by my last name, sir," said Wilson dully. "But there is an emergency."
"An emergency?!" shouted Wombat.
"For Chrissakes!" shouted CatCuddy. "Would you quit with the yelling already? We can all hear you!"
"Indeed, miss," said James. "Sir, there seems to be a shortage of Vicodin."
"A shortage of Vicodin?!" shouted House. This was indeed an emergency.
"SnarkMan probably just ate them all," said CatCuddy smugly.
"Hey!" said House rudely. "You want any alone time with Wombat and you'd better shut that little mouth of yours."
CatCuddy's mouth shut just as quickly as she'd opened it, and her excitement was apparent when her grin became as large as…I can't think of a nonsexual metaphor.
"Sir," said James dully in his monotone voice.
"What is it now?" asked House, irritated.
"The shortage of Vicodin isn't our only problem."
"What could be worse than a shortage of Vicodin?!"
"It would appear that the vicodin has been stolen," said James.
"This can only mean one thing!" shouted Wombat, hoping that someone else in the room knew what that one thing was so he wouldn't have to elaborate. After all, he had no idea what it was; he was just trying to appear as quick-witted and smart as his leader.
SnarkGirl gasped dramatically. "It must be… The Ghetto Gangsta!!"
Everyone in the room gasped in horror except for House, who was still trying to grasp the concept that Wilson…erm, James, was his butler.
