Sorry it's been a hot minute, but I promise that I have been working on writing more. I just have also been working on recording videos for YouTube as well as my nightmare dayjob in retail.

Also...sorry for the shorter chapter. I hope everyone still likes it.


Note: 'Code Wack-a-doo'...it just works for me.


"Sheriff. We have a 'Code Wack-a-doo'."

Sheriff Stilinski looked up at his deputy...only to turn his gaze back to stare forlorn at his coffee. It was just after seven in the morning...couldn't he finish his coffee first?! "What did Peter Hale and my son do now, Parrish?"

"Apparently they are currently pushing a wheelbarrow down a street while wearing Renaissance Faire outfits." Was all that the hellhound said before he glanced back down at the paper in his hand. "And...yelling for people to 'bring out their dead' if this statement is...uh. Sheriff?"

Parrish wondered (not for the first time mind you!) if maybe he should suggest a long, relaxing, solo vacation to the Sheriff...who was now sitting at his desk, face-down on said-desk, and asking every power possible in existence for the patience that he had not been born with. "Sir? Isn't it supposed to be "give me strength"?"

"Parrish..." Came the muffled reply. "...If I ask for strength, there is going to be a murder."

"Fair enough, sir." Parrish said with a small nod of sympathy...and an internal plea to whatever kind and merciful deities that were listening...could they please make his own future children NOT insane?! For his own mental and physical wellbeing at the very least? "Hale and Stiles?"

The muffled grumble was indiscernible to human ears, however the hellhound understood perfectly. "Yes sir. I will go taze and restrain them. I'll call Argent if I need back up."

The Sheriff just flailed a hand, but did not look up. Parrish promptly put the coffee cup in the older man's hand, then made his way out the door.

What a lovely start to the day.

= [madnessmadnessmadness] =

"Sheriff...sorry to interrupt your lunch, but we have another 'Code Wack-a-doo'."

Sheriff Stilinski stared down at his 'illegal' cheeseburger and fries in despair before breathing out a heavy sigh. "And what is it now, Parrish?"

"Stiles, Peter Hale, and most of the Hale pack were just seen sprinting into a grocery store, wearing hazmat suits, and screaming "which way did he go"."

The Sheriff just stared in shock before his palm and his face reacquainted themselves with one another. He hoped that this was just some supernatural BS and not something in the water making the pack go crazier than normal. He held up one hand and Parrish calmly placed the telephone receiver in that hand. "Chris Argent is on the line, sir."

Parrish wisely exited the room to await orders on whether or not he was to assist the pack or just taze them (mainly a certain pair of Masters of Mayhem) and haul them in for Derek to bail out at his leisure. In all truth, he did not envy the Sheriff, Argent, or the Beacon Hills Alpha in the slightest.

"Maybe I have time to grab a coffee before I have to do things."

= [madnessmadnessmadness] =

"Sheriff-"

"No. I'm done. I'm out. I'm going home. I don't care." Was all that Sheriff Stilinski said as he speed-walked to the doors blocking his escape to freedom; he would not run, but it was damn tempting if it meant he got passed those doors and home before any more chaos erupted.

Six 'Code Wack-a-doo's in one day! SIX!

Who did he piss off in a past life to deserve this? Did he commit some horrible crime at some point and not remember it?! Sure he cheated on his diet, but there was no way, no how, that cheating on his diet meant that he had to suffer the agony of Peter Hale and Stiles encouraging each other's eternally mounting levels of insanity.

Parrish fell into a light jog to keep up with the older man who was doing his best to outrun the hellhound without looking like he was trying to outrun his deputy. "Sir-"

"No." The Sheriff shoved his way out the doors only to stop short at seeing Chris Argent parked out front. "Argent? What the-?"

"It's been a shit day." Was all that the hunter grumbled before sighing and rubbing at his jaw with the thousand-yard stare of a man who had spent an entire day subjected to the insanity that was the Beacon Hills pack. "I got steaks, good booze, and every classic action flick queued up on my TV at the house. Want to join?"

"Happen to have a dart board with Peter Hale's picture on it?"

"Yep."

With that, the Sheriff climbed into his cruiser and started up the car as Chris started up his SUV. Parrish sighed and shrugged as the SUV all-but sped out of the parking lot with the sheriff cruiser right behind it. The hellhound shook his head, then went over to his own cruiser before flicking on his lights and driving off.

After all...someone had to stop the Duo of Destruction, and the easily led astray pack, from having a smokebomb and paintball fight in a public park...again.


Tbh...I'm wondering where Peter and Stiles got the Renaissance Faire outfits and enough hazmat suits for the pack.

Also...yes. Chris and the Sheriff are so drinking buddies and "why are we the sane ones" buddies.