I hate this one. I think it sux. But my brother, whose name shall never be mentioned, made me write it and post it. If you wanna blame anyone, blame him.
Disclaimer: I do not own MR. Do I look like a middle aged man? No! I'm a thirteen-year-old fangirl who wishes she owned MR. The plot belongs to my little brother, Daniel. He came up with it. On with the story!
Matches
Gazzy P.O.V
Running, running, and more running. That is our everyday life.
But this time it was just me and Iggy.
If you don't know what is going on, we (meaning me (the Gasman) and Iggy (my right-wing man)) got separated from the flock because of Flyboys with AK-47's. (This is a type of automatic gun that can blow your fricken head off!) That's exactly what happens to some people.
So, how did we get separated from the flock, you may ask? Well, it's simple.
*Flashback*
Iggy and I were sitting outside of our current abode (which was a cave), innocently making deadly explosives. The flock was out getting food, while we were protecting the base.
Suddenly we saw people flying up in the air. They weren't the flock and they weren't hang-gliders either.
Our first guess was flying Erasers. But Erasers weren't as graceful as these.
But then we figured out that they were Flyboys.
They were coming in fast, so we had to leave our explosives where they were. *Sob*
The only thing we had was a pack of matches. But what good would that do?
*End of Flashback*
We were worried because we didn't have any weapons. And us against what seemed like a million Flyboys was like a living (insert swear word here).
But then Iggy got his evil grin, his look for when he had a brilliantly evil plan that will probably get us flayed alive by Max. (We seem to get that a lot.)
"What is it?" I asked, gasping for breath as we stopped running.
"We got a big one comin'?" he asked.
"Now that you mention it, yes," I said, starting to catch on.
Iggy pulled out a match and stuck it against the side of the box. (He's weirdly good with igniting stuff, even though he's blind.)
The Flyboys were closing in very fast.
Iggy looked like he was getting ready to hold the match up to my butt.
"What the (insert swear word here) are you doing?" I yelped. (Max doesn't like us to cuss, but we do it anyway. Not like it matters. It's one of those confronting death 24/7 things.)
"Just watch," he replied.
The Flyboys were at least ten yards away from us by now.
I felt the Big One coming. And I knew his plan right then and there.
When they were five feet away, I let it rip.
It seemed as if a ball of fire erupted from my butt. And the all the Flyboys caught fire in at least two seconds.
"We gotta do that more often!" I shouted, slapping Iggy a high-five.
Just then, the flock landed in the clearing.
"Oh, God!" Nudge shouted, holding her nose. "Gazzy! What did you eat?"
The others, except for me and Iggy, were holding their noses and groaning.
I cackled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Soooo… yeah. That's it. I didn't really like this one, but my brother made me write it at freakin' 2 in the morning. And it was during summer vacation.
I'm tired. We just had this huge thunderstorm (I live in SoCal) and I feel hyper. And hungry.
I like this song. It's called "Never Think" by Rob Pattinson. I hate him, but I like this song. It's a good Fax song, for, like, of their make-out scenes.
Later.
-A$h