Hey! I haven't posted a new chapter for this story in awhile, I know. So sorry. I DID just get around to posting my newest chapter of Sixteen though, so go read and review it! After you review this one, of course...
So anyway, please review. I think I'll write a review song at the end, just to get you to review...yea...ok...REVIEW!
Warning: This chapter may or may not be the result of consuming multiple mini-boxes of Jujyfruits. You have been warned.
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"W e n d y ! ! !" Brad Pitt called in slow motion, gallivanting towards her in... slow motion.
Wendy awoke suddenly, feeling groggy. Why did she always wake up before the kiss?!?! Suddenly she shrieked as she looked out the cabin window. There was a pudgy little face pressed to the glass. A face that belonged to none other than...
The Beaver Boy.
Squealing with fright, Wendy grabbed her .37 and blew a large hole through the glass with a BANG!. Smiling with satisfaction, Wendy set the rifle down only to discover that the strange boy had escaped before the bullet connected with his face.
Damn.
Oh well, another morning, another stalker, another opportunity, eh? With this comforting thought the girl stood up, walking towards the small shower. Checking for cameras or other illegal beaver-spy equipment, she turned on the water and stepped in.
Screaming, she jumped out again. The water was...cold...and it was...salty. Queer, queer indeed.
It took Wendy a moment to realize that, in fact, this really was queer, due to the fact that although she was in a boat, she was hundreds of feet above the surface of the earth, sailing through the sky.
"Wendy!" her brother Jon called, knocking on the door. "Are you in there? It's time for breakfast!"
"Just a minute!" she called back, quickly getting dressed. Once satisfied with her new sexy she-pirate look, Wendy headed on deck to eat. She was adequately disturbed to find Peter at the steering wheel, for a few reasons.
One was that Wendy was always a girl who followed the rules. And, due to her knowledge of the "no drunk driving" law, she was displeased to see that Peter did not appear entirely sober. Wendy quickly whipped out her detective kit, complete with a plaid Sherlock hat.
"Peter...how many fingers am I holding up?" Wendy inquired, waving her index finger in front of his face.
"That's a trick question! You said how many 'fingers', as in plural, but you're only holding one...as in...not plural!" Peter cleverly concluded, chucking an empty beer bottle at Wendy's head. She picked it up, dusting for fingerprints.
"Well..." she said to herself, "Although this empty alcohol bottle does appear a tad suspicious, he got the finger question right. And the finger question tells all, so there you have it." she sadly removed her hat and stuffed it back into her detective bag.
The other reason Wendy was worried about Peter steering was that they appeared to be rapidly hurtling towards the ground. Making sure her detective gear was neatly tucked into the proper pockets (the pockets were labeled things like "invisible ink" and "magnifying glass", so as not to confuse the detectives-in-training), she looked up and screamed just as they crashed into a rather large oak tree and a cute little gingerbread house.
"Crazy kids! No respect!" cried an old woman (who looked strangely like a witch...), waving a cane at the crashed ship. A candy cane, to be exact.
"Thank you! Thank you! Come, Gretel, come! That was a close call!" cried a little German boy, tugging a little German girl along with him.
"Yes, yes, Hansel! We must put "Eating strangers' houses" on our list of things not to do!" the little girl said as the two disappeared into the woods.
Laughing good-naturedly, Peter threw down the anchor (it seemed a bit unnecessary...) and jumped onto the ground, crying "Land ho!"
"No kidding..." Wendy mumbled, still bitter from her missed opportunity to send Peter to the Slammer.
Suddenly, Peter pulled out about a thousand yellow flyers, Scotch-taping them to various trees. Wendy shook her head as she read one. It appeared that Peter was recruiting a Lost-Boy army to take over the world. Wendy sighed in dismay as she plopped down on the ground and promptly fell asleep.
***
"Over here, over here!" Someone with a large neon orange flag was waving towards a large clearing in the forest and ushering a few boys in. Wendy looked around, confused.
"What's going on?" she asked the boy with the flag. He did a double-take as he looked at her and then let out a high shriek.
"You're....you're a girl! AHH! EVERYONE! COOTIE ALERT! Cootie ALERT!! This is not a drill, I repeat, this is NOT A DRILL!" suddenly there was mass chaos as little boys started swarming everywhere, ducking under trees and trying to dig holes in the ground. Shaking her head, Wendy rolled her eyes and walked into the now empty clearing.
Fearful little eyes watched her every move from their hiding placed amongst the forest.
After about twenty minutes and many anti-cootie procedures, Wendy was finally accepted into the "judging square", which was the clearing in the forest she had seen a few minutes ago. She was surprised to see a table set up, with a large sign reading "JUDGES TABLE" above it.
She was even more surprised to see that sitting at the table were none other than Randy Jackson, Paula Abdul, and Simon Cowell. Peter walked into the middle of the clearing amidst loud cheers and applause.
"Hello everyone, and welcome to LOST BOY IDOL!" he said into his microphone as all the strange little boys applauded once again. After a bit more of his speech, Peter introduced the first hopeful, a boy dressed up as a strange-looking dog.
The boy walked into the middle of the clearing, facing the judges.
"All right," said Simon, "And you are...a dog?"
The boy looked extremely hurt. "I'm a fox! A fox, dammit!" the exclaimed, eyes welling up with tears.
"Okay, okay, get on with it..." Peter mumbled, nudging the boy forward a few steps. After a little tantrum, the boy pulled out a piece of paper.
"I have composed a poem of why I should be a Lost Boy," said the boy. He began to read the poem, which stated creative points, such as the fact that he was lost and he was a boy. After he finished with a little bow, he awaited the judges response.
Fidgeting nervously from foot to foot, he anxiously looked at Randy, who would be the first to give his opinion.
Randy looked back. "You know, dawg - "
"I'M A FOX!!!" The boy screamed, running from the woods and off to who-knows-where.
After hours of chaos, they decided to take a lunch break. Wendy, Peter, and Jon gathered around a picnic table with a little red-and-white checkered tablecloth. Happily munching cornbeef sandwiches, they divulged in small talk to pass the time. Suddenly Wendy squealed as something shiny and glowing dove into her pink lemonade.
She groaned. It was none other than... Lil' Tink.
"Lil' Tink?" Wendy intelligently inquired.
"Yo' Mamma!" Lil' Tink affirmed.
translation: Yes, it is I, Lil' Tink. I didn't mean to disturb you by diving into your pink beverage, how are you?
"I'm fine, how are you?" Wendy answered.
"I be da shizzit, yo! Down with the up-yo and the fee fi digit!" Lil' Tink responded.
translation: I'm quite well, thank you. I was just headed down to get something to eat. It's a very nice day, don't you agree?
"Yes, it's lovely out. I'm serving the food, what would you like?" Wendy questioned.
"Biotch!" Lil' Tink commanded.
translation: I'll take a sirloin steak and some whole-grain bread, too. Also I'd like a glass of water if it isn't too much trouble.
"Coming right up!" Wendy exclaimed.
"Foo'!" Lil' Tink answered.
translation: Nifty!
And with that Lil' Tink sat down across from Peter and began to talk to him. Peter apparently didn't understand a word she was saying.
"Uh...yo?" Peter responded as Lil' Tink finished what appeared to be a very funny story, by the way milk was streaming from the fairy's nose.
"DAMN STRAIGHT!" Lil' Tink shouted, howling with laughter.
It was going to be a loooong day.
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A/N: Holy crap, I'm alive! And you all thought (or maybe *hoped*) I'd gotten hit by a bus!
Yea, sorry, I know I haven't updated this story in like... forever... but yea I was really busy with Sixteen, but then it got screwed up, so then I deleted it (I'm re-posting it, though) and etc. etc.
PLEASE REVIEW THIS CHAPTER! I know many of you are probably giving me the silent treatment for taking so long, but SUCK IT UP! Life's not fair! *cracks whip*.
Whoo I'm hyper. Yes. So please review, it would mean a lot to me, whether you liked this chapter or not! Constructive critism (not flaming) is welcome, so is praise. Lol.
And incase you weren't planning on reviewing, here's a little review poem just for you!
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I worked so hard on this chapter,
I haven't posted in awhile,
But I do promise that if you review,
It will make me smile!
Reviews warm the heart,
So don't be a fart,
Click that button that says 'Go!',
And send reviews now, I love them so!
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Oh my lord. I think I may be slowly (or quickly) losing my mind... dearie me.
Please review and bring me back to sanity!! OMG, that was NOT intended to rhyme, I swear!!!