Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine. I am merely torturing the hell out of
the boys.
Happy Days and YMCA are also not mine.
Any resemblance to West Side Story, Terry Prachett, Trigun, Pulp Fiction,
Friends, Total Request Live, Monster Garage, the Village People, QVC and
any soap operas are intentional and don't belong to me either.
Happy Days
". . . my chocolate milkshake Fei?" Heero asked in an annoyed tone.
"I'll be right back with it," Fei said hurrying back towards the kitchen.
"Sit on it Yuy!" Came a rather cool voice.
"Is that Trowz?" Quatre Cunningham asked in an excited tone.
"Heyyy! Trowa said flashing a thumbs up sign.
Duo grinned impishly, "Did you just call Trowa Treize? Because if you are changing names in this episode I want to be," he lowered his voice to a gravelly whisper, "Zechs Marquise!"
Heero flushed a bit at this comment as Duo grabbed his napkin off the table.
"No I called him by his name, Trowz," Quatre said indignantly. "Why would anyone want to be called Treize, or Zechs for that matter?"
Duo didn't respond at first, because he was too busy wrapping a napkin around the top part of his head.
"There," Duo cried triumphantly securing the knot, "now, don't I look dashing?"
"You look foolish," Quatre grumbled.
"I bet Heero doesn't think so?" Duo said coyly turning to Heero. "Tallgeese, I need to use your strength again my old companion."
Heero flushed and became intently interested in his hamburger.
"The power of your thrusters," Duo continued in his gravelly whisper, "a man controlling you has to be willing to lay it all on the line. I will master you Tallgeese! I'm going to give you everything I've got! I can do it! Tallgeese!!!!!!!"
The color in Heero's cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson.
"What sort of nonsense is this?" Quatre said shaking his head. "I know that Zechs had a soft spot for Tallgeese, but I think that you are way out of line on your portrayal of him Maxie. What do you think Trowz?"
"I think that Zechs thought of Tallgeese like I think of my leather. It's a part of him, and just dam cool." Trowa said running his hand over his hair.
"I never thought of it that way Trowz," Quatre said with a glint of hero worship in his eyes. "You are so cool!"
"Heyyy!" Trowz said flashing his trademark thumbs up to the trio.
Just then Wufei came stumbling back out of the kitchen with a milk shake on his tray.
"Here is your shake Heero," Fei said, his head bobbing up and down.
"Fei's shakes are the best," Heero said taking a sip.
"Hey," Duo pouted, "I didn't get one."
"Oh you guys," Fei gushed embarrassed, "I'll make another if you like them so much."
He turned to head back towards the kitchen when suddenly a gang of five hooligans strolled in the front door.
"The rumors were right, Fei's Diner is the perfect new hangout for our gang, The Turboprops!" The gang leader said striking a pose.
"The Turboprops Rock!" the other four shouted in unison, also striking poses.
"Who the hell do they think they are," Duo snorted, "Sailor Moon?"
"What is a turbo prop?" Quatre asked.
"I think it's a type of airplane engine," Heero said with a shrug. "The precursor to the jet engine."
"The Jets sound more impressive," Duo said with a nod.
The leader of the small gang stopped posing at that and snapped his full attention towards Duo.
"Did you just say you're with the Jets?" He asked.
"No," Duo chortled, "I said that Turboprops sounded lame. You should call yourselves the Jets, it sounds cooler."
"That's name was taken by a gang on the West side, but that's another story," the gang's leader snapped haughtily.
"Touchy little monkey isn't he?" Heero snorted.
"I've always said never give a monkey the keys to the banana plantation."
"When have you ever said that before, Maxie?" Quatre asked incredulously.
It was at that exact moment that the leader of the gang realized he had been insulted. He might be a man of limited mental stature, but he knew he had to act fast to strike fear in the hearts of the disrespectful ones. With a snap of his fingers he gathered his gang. This display of force might be a bit excessive, but it would work. It always worked. The five boys walked and chanted in perfect unison snapping their fingers as they approached.
"When you're a Prop, you're a prop all the way."
The cadence was strong, each man in perfect unison with the others.
"From your first Cigarette, to your last dying day."
The rhythm was perfect, not one step out of line. Now the trouble makers would taste true fear.
"Am I supposed to be scared of that?" Heero asked in disbelief.
"No violence!" Fei said, hiding behind his serving tray, "I run a clean joint here."
Duo rolled his eyes, "I thought the name was lame, but I must give the Props their due, that was worse."
"I thought it was cool," Trowa said.
"Yeah," Quatre said, fawning over Trowa's statement. "If the Trowz says it's cool, then it's the coolest!!!"
Something was wrong. Only the shop keeper seemed affected by their awesome display of rhythm and choreography. More drastic measures were needed. The Gang's leader snatched Heero's milkshake intending to drink it in an intimidating manner.
"Hey!" Shouted Heero snatching it back, "I paid $.75 for that shake. Go buy your own!"
"Ohhh," Duo cooed, "denied!!!"
"Maybe he's just thirsty?" Quatre offered innocently. "Would it hurt to give him a sip?"
"No," Trowa said, "that was a challenge."
Ah, the leather clad one was obviously their leader. He understood gang etiquette.
"The Turboprops challenge your gang to a rumble!" The leader said pointing at Trowa. "Tomorrow, at noon!"
"Why wait?" Heero asked with a smirk, "I'll take you all on now."
The Turboprops leader pointedly ignored Heero, "Oh, and if you want to beat us, you better get a good choreographer, cause when we dance, we dance for keeps!"
"Dance?" Heero asked. "I'm planning on smashing your face with my fist, not taking you out for dinner and dancing."
"Yeah," Duo chimed in, "that's my department. You are planning on taking me out for dinner and a little dirty dancing aren't you?"
"Not now Duo," Heero growled.
"Let me get this straight," Trowz said in his coolest tone. "You want to have a dance off?"
"Oh nothing as simple as that," the leader said, "It's singing and dancing."
Trowz nodded, "No holds barred eh?"
"That's right, you have until noon tomorrow."
The five lads stepped out in unison. Only the sound of their snapping fingers keeping tempo broke the heavy silence.
Heero shook his head in disbelief, "They cannot be serious."
"Oh it's serious all right," Quatre said with a look of concern. "Trowz has told me how dangerous these things can be."
"God forbid one of us get a blister," Duo scoffed. "How would we ever be able to dance then?"
"I say we just go out right now and slap that bunch of sissies into submission," Heero growled.
"No," Trowa said in a commanding tone. "Heero, we can beat them at their own game. Quatre, Fei, do remember how we escaped from that OZ officers' club On L4?"
Wufei twitched and stood a little straighter, "Surely you don't mean . . ."
"Good idea," Quatre said with a smile. "I'll go round up what we need for costumes. You and Fei can go over the routine with Heero and Maxie."
11:50, The Next Day
Fei's diner was hopping. Word of the rumble had spread like the plague, and everyone was here to see the fray.
"Wow, my shop hardly ever gets this busy," Fei said happily, "maybe we should have a rumble night every week."
"It's bad enough that I agreed to do this . . . " Heero curled his lip in disdain, "singing dance-off rumble thingie, but if you think a repeat performance is in the offering, you would be sadly mistaken."
"Aww, c'mon Heero," Duo wheedled, "you look really cute doing it."
"He's got a point Heero," Fei said with a sloppy grin, "your dance moves are perfect."
Heero started to respond but Trowa cut him off.
"Chill out," he said running his hand over his rigid hair again. "Our competition has arrived."
"I've always meant to ask you," Heero said, "how do you manage to keep your hair of yours so rigid?"
"Well, Trowa said seriously, "I have a serious training regimen I do every day to insure that it always maintains this rigid shape."
"Training regimen?" Heero asked in disbelief.
"You mean you have trained your hair to be as stiff as a porcupine quills?" Duo asked incredulously.
"Yes," Trowa said, "there no rest for me in my pursuit of the elusive mayfly of rigidity. I meditate diligently every morning. The subjects are shape and stiffness. I quit after three seconds. Hey, you try meditating for easy hair care, it's not as easy as it looks."
"Does it work?" Heero asked flatly.
"Sometimes it's this stiff when I wake up." Trowa added proudly.
Duo placed his hands behind his head and turned away, "That's more then I needed to know."
Just then, Quatre made his way back into the diner, his arms filled with shopping bags.
"Did you get them?" Trowa asked seriously.
"This batch is even better then the set we have at home." Quatre said proudly.
"What did you do, rob a thrift store?" Heero said peering into the bag that was handed to him.
"Oh my, " Duo blushed, "I do hope that this won't give us a NC-17 rating."
Fei squealed in delight, "Oh thank you Quatre, I always wanted to be this one."
"Hush gentlemen, I do believe that the show is about to begin." Ordered Trowa.
"Ladies and Gentleman," cried the smarmy announcer, "we've got a really big show for you here tonight. I, Jack Rabbit Slim, am pleased to bring you, the Rumble . . . ."
The crowd broke out into a thunderous applause.
"Lets bring up our first contestants, The Turboprops!!!!!"
The leader of the gang stepped up on stage and took the microphone. Behind him, the four gang members took up instruments and waited for his cue.
"One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock rock."
On the dance floor a turboprop and his moll dressed in a pink poodle skirt jumped out onto the dance floor.
"Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock rock."
A second couple hopped out and joined the first on the dance floor.
"Nine , ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock rock."
Two other couples jumped out and joined the first pair.
"We're going to rock around the clock tonight."
The quartet began twisting and gyrating to the music as the lead singer droned on.
"These Happy Days are yours and mine, these happy days . . . ."
"Is this supposed to instill fear in the hearts of all who watch?" Heero asked.
"I'm scared just looking at them," Duo nodded, "I mean, what would happen if some of the Brill cream from their hair got on the floor? You could have a nasty slip hazard."
"Brill cream?" Heero asked stunned, "what the hell is Brill Cream?"
"It's a hair care product," Trowa stated flatly. "Never worked too well on my hair."
"That's because you need hair gel, not hair grease," Quatre said with a smile, "although that tube of Brill cream came in useful later."
The roar of the crowd signaled the end of the Turboprops Props set. With a self-satisfied shrug, the leader surrendered the stage. Trowa stepped up to take his place.
"If youse all would excuse us, my compatriots and I need to suit up for our half of the rumble. We will be on in ten. Heyyyy!!!"
The girls all swooned as Trowz flashed his smile and gave them all a thumbs up.
"Alright guys, to the men's room! It's time to suit up for the rumble."
Ten minutes later, a policeman, a carpenter, a biker, a cowboy, and a smirking Indian emerged from the men's room.
Fei was first. He was wearing a pair of snug fitting spandex bicycle shorts with a belt that sported a pair of handcuffs. The pair of military issue black combat boots on his feet looked spit shined and ready for inspection. A swat helmet was perched on his head, and flack jacket left hanging open to show his bare chest completed his limited ensemble.
He was followed by Quatre. He was wearing a yellow hard-hat and an orange safety vest over his bare chest. His scandalously high cut jean shorts were spared the dreaded NC-17 rating by a large belt of strategically placed tools.
Not to be out done, Trowa had changed too. He had shed his white tee shirt in favor of a pair of tight leather pants that matched his leather coat. A pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses rounded out his costume.
Heero strolled out next. He had on a ten-gallon hat, a blue denim vest and pair of leather chaps that ended at his snakeskin boots with silver spurs. A pair of tight leather shorts was all he had to protect his dignity.
Duo strolled out last, resplendent in his feathered headdress. His face had been painted with red and black stripes, and someone had taken the time to draw a black scythe on his chest. He wore a pair of tan leather bracers on either wrist that dripped leather fringe. The short loincloth and matching moccasins completed his costume.
Complete silence filled the diner as the five took the stage. Trowa stepped up to the microphone and tapped his foot.
"Hey! Hey!" Trowa chanted.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey," The other four chanted in unison.
"Young Man," Trowa started, "there's no need to feel down, I say young man, pick yourself off the ground . . ."
"Heero," Duo hissed.
"What?" Heero replied.
"Is that a ten gallon hat, or are you just happy to see me!"
"Shut up Baka, it's almost the chorus." Heero hissed.
". . . It's fun to stay at the Y. M. C. A." the group sang in unison.
The cosmos stifled a yawn as it felt about it's couch for the remote. It had reached the limit of it's all too brief attention span and now was craving something different. But what? Oh well, let's see what else is playing.
CLICK
"Okay, today on Monster Garage the challenge is to build a mobile doll out of an old VW Bus. Think you can do it?"
"Depends" Heero said flatly, "do you have one around I can borrow parts from?"
CLICK
"But Quatre, I'm not sleeping with your sister's, daughter's, husband's roommate's boyfriend's dog. I can't. I have a terrible disease that will soon kill me in an attractive and non-yucky way."
"Oh, Tro, I knew you wouldn't cheat on me...."
CLICK
"All right! And now on Total Request live it's the latest single by the Gboyz! 'Quit stalking me you Pink Freak!'!
The camera pans over a darkened stage. A spotlight comes on illuminating the drummer. Duo twirls his sticks, grins for the camera and begins a pounding beat, sweat beading attractively on his chest. More spotlights come up illuminating a leather-clad Quatre on keyboards, Trowa in red spandex pants with a base guitar, Wufei cradling a green and gold guitar. The last spotlight illuminates Heero- the mike against his lips, hair falling artfully over his face....
"She follows me everywhere.... Even to my darkest lair...."
CLICK
"Hey guys and gals!" Wufei, in a chinos and a polo shirt leaned over a fake kitchen counter. "Have we got a Today's Special Value for you!"
CLICK
' . . .I'll be there for you.'
Heero walks into Central Perk. "Hi," he says mournfully to the cluster of people on the central sofa.
"What's up with you man?" Trowa looks up, coffee perfectly balanced. "Bad day at the museum?"
"Yeah," Heero sits down on the couch next to Trowa. "Quatre going to start her set soon?"
"Yeah, she wrote a new song about her sisters."
Duo bounces into the coffee shop. "A mocha!" He calls to Wufei who is fighting with his perky haircut behind the counter. "How you doin'?" He asks Heero with a flirtatious grin.
CLICK
A satisfied smile crossed the cosmos's lips as the program line up appeared for the evening shows appeared on the screen. The remote control was laid to rest once more. This channel was perfect.
Stay tuned next week when Quatre says, "Trowa has my ball. You'll have to get it from him."
Happy Days
". . . my chocolate milkshake Fei?" Heero asked in an annoyed tone.
"I'll be right back with it," Fei said hurrying back towards the kitchen.
"Sit on it Yuy!" Came a rather cool voice.
"Is that Trowz?" Quatre Cunningham asked in an excited tone.
"Heyyy! Trowa said flashing a thumbs up sign.
Duo grinned impishly, "Did you just call Trowa Treize? Because if you are changing names in this episode I want to be," he lowered his voice to a gravelly whisper, "Zechs Marquise!"
Heero flushed a bit at this comment as Duo grabbed his napkin off the table.
"No I called him by his name, Trowz," Quatre said indignantly. "Why would anyone want to be called Treize, or Zechs for that matter?"
Duo didn't respond at first, because he was too busy wrapping a napkin around the top part of his head.
"There," Duo cried triumphantly securing the knot, "now, don't I look dashing?"
"You look foolish," Quatre grumbled.
"I bet Heero doesn't think so?" Duo said coyly turning to Heero. "Tallgeese, I need to use your strength again my old companion."
Heero flushed and became intently interested in his hamburger.
"The power of your thrusters," Duo continued in his gravelly whisper, "a man controlling you has to be willing to lay it all on the line. I will master you Tallgeese! I'm going to give you everything I've got! I can do it! Tallgeese!!!!!!!"
The color in Heero's cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson.
"What sort of nonsense is this?" Quatre said shaking his head. "I know that Zechs had a soft spot for Tallgeese, but I think that you are way out of line on your portrayal of him Maxie. What do you think Trowz?"
"I think that Zechs thought of Tallgeese like I think of my leather. It's a part of him, and just dam cool." Trowa said running his hand over his hair.
"I never thought of it that way Trowz," Quatre said with a glint of hero worship in his eyes. "You are so cool!"
"Heyyy!" Trowz said flashing his trademark thumbs up to the trio.
Just then Wufei came stumbling back out of the kitchen with a milk shake on his tray.
"Here is your shake Heero," Fei said, his head bobbing up and down.
"Fei's shakes are the best," Heero said taking a sip.
"Hey," Duo pouted, "I didn't get one."
"Oh you guys," Fei gushed embarrassed, "I'll make another if you like them so much."
He turned to head back towards the kitchen when suddenly a gang of five hooligans strolled in the front door.
"The rumors were right, Fei's Diner is the perfect new hangout for our gang, The Turboprops!" The gang leader said striking a pose.
"The Turboprops Rock!" the other four shouted in unison, also striking poses.
"Who the hell do they think they are," Duo snorted, "Sailor Moon?"
"What is a turbo prop?" Quatre asked.
"I think it's a type of airplane engine," Heero said with a shrug. "The precursor to the jet engine."
"The Jets sound more impressive," Duo said with a nod.
The leader of the small gang stopped posing at that and snapped his full attention towards Duo.
"Did you just say you're with the Jets?" He asked.
"No," Duo chortled, "I said that Turboprops sounded lame. You should call yourselves the Jets, it sounds cooler."
"That's name was taken by a gang on the West side, but that's another story," the gang's leader snapped haughtily.
"Touchy little monkey isn't he?" Heero snorted.
"I've always said never give a monkey the keys to the banana plantation."
"When have you ever said that before, Maxie?" Quatre asked incredulously.
It was at that exact moment that the leader of the gang realized he had been insulted. He might be a man of limited mental stature, but he knew he had to act fast to strike fear in the hearts of the disrespectful ones. With a snap of his fingers he gathered his gang. This display of force might be a bit excessive, but it would work. It always worked. The five boys walked and chanted in perfect unison snapping their fingers as they approached.
"When you're a Prop, you're a prop all the way."
The cadence was strong, each man in perfect unison with the others.
"From your first Cigarette, to your last dying day."
The rhythm was perfect, not one step out of line. Now the trouble makers would taste true fear.
"Am I supposed to be scared of that?" Heero asked in disbelief.
"No violence!" Fei said, hiding behind his serving tray, "I run a clean joint here."
Duo rolled his eyes, "I thought the name was lame, but I must give the Props their due, that was worse."
"I thought it was cool," Trowa said.
"Yeah," Quatre said, fawning over Trowa's statement. "If the Trowz says it's cool, then it's the coolest!!!"
Something was wrong. Only the shop keeper seemed affected by their awesome display of rhythm and choreography. More drastic measures were needed. The Gang's leader snatched Heero's milkshake intending to drink it in an intimidating manner.
"Hey!" Shouted Heero snatching it back, "I paid $.75 for that shake. Go buy your own!"
"Ohhh," Duo cooed, "denied!!!"
"Maybe he's just thirsty?" Quatre offered innocently. "Would it hurt to give him a sip?"
"No," Trowa said, "that was a challenge."
Ah, the leather clad one was obviously their leader. He understood gang etiquette.
"The Turboprops challenge your gang to a rumble!" The leader said pointing at Trowa. "Tomorrow, at noon!"
"Why wait?" Heero asked with a smirk, "I'll take you all on now."
The Turboprops leader pointedly ignored Heero, "Oh, and if you want to beat us, you better get a good choreographer, cause when we dance, we dance for keeps!"
"Dance?" Heero asked. "I'm planning on smashing your face with my fist, not taking you out for dinner and dancing."
"Yeah," Duo chimed in, "that's my department. You are planning on taking me out for dinner and a little dirty dancing aren't you?"
"Not now Duo," Heero growled.
"Let me get this straight," Trowz said in his coolest tone. "You want to have a dance off?"
"Oh nothing as simple as that," the leader said, "It's singing and dancing."
Trowz nodded, "No holds barred eh?"
"That's right, you have until noon tomorrow."
The five lads stepped out in unison. Only the sound of their snapping fingers keeping tempo broke the heavy silence.
Heero shook his head in disbelief, "They cannot be serious."
"Oh it's serious all right," Quatre said with a look of concern. "Trowz has told me how dangerous these things can be."
"God forbid one of us get a blister," Duo scoffed. "How would we ever be able to dance then?"
"I say we just go out right now and slap that bunch of sissies into submission," Heero growled.
"No," Trowa said in a commanding tone. "Heero, we can beat them at their own game. Quatre, Fei, do remember how we escaped from that OZ officers' club On L4?"
Wufei twitched and stood a little straighter, "Surely you don't mean . . ."
"Good idea," Quatre said with a smile. "I'll go round up what we need for costumes. You and Fei can go over the routine with Heero and Maxie."
11:50, The Next Day
Fei's diner was hopping. Word of the rumble had spread like the plague, and everyone was here to see the fray.
"Wow, my shop hardly ever gets this busy," Fei said happily, "maybe we should have a rumble night every week."
"It's bad enough that I agreed to do this . . . " Heero curled his lip in disdain, "singing dance-off rumble thingie, but if you think a repeat performance is in the offering, you would be sadly mistaken."
"Aww, c'mon Heero," Duo wheedled, "you look really cute doing it."
"He's got a point Heero," Fei said with a sloppy grin, "your dance moves are perfect."
Heero started to respond but Trowa cut him off.
"Chill out," he said running his hand over his rigid hair again. "Our competition has arrived."
"I've always meant to ask you," Heero said, "how do you manage to keep your hair of yours so rigid?"
"Well, Trowa said seriously, "I have a serious training regimen I do every day to insure that it always maintains this rigid shape."
"Training regimen?" Heero asked in disbelief.
"You mean you have trained your hair to be as stiff as a porcupine quills?" Duo asked incredulously.
"Yes," Trowa said, "there no rest for me in my pursuit of the elusive mayfly of rigidity. I meditate diligently every morning. The subjects are shape and stiffness. I quit after three seconds. Hey, you try meditating for easy hair care, it's not as easy as it looks."
"Does it work?" Heero asked flatly.
"Sometimes it's this stiff when I wake up." Trowa added proudly.
Duo placed his hands behind his head and turned away, "That's more then I needed to know."
Just then, Quatre made his way back into the diner, his arms filled with shopping bags.
"Did you get them?" Trowa asked seriously.
"This batch is even better then the set we have at home." Quatre said proudly.
"What did you do, rob a thrift store?" Heero said peering into the bag that was handed to him.
"Oh my, " Duo blushed, "I do hope that this won't give us a NC-17 rating."
Fei squealed in delight, "Oh thank you Quatre, I always wanted to be this one."
"Hush gentlemen, I do believe that the show is about to begin." Ordered Trowa.
"Ladies and Gentleman," cried the smarmy announcer, "we've got a really big show for you here tonight. I, Jack Rabbit Slim, am pleased to bring you, the Rumble . . . ."
The crowd broke out into a thunderous applause.
"Lets bring up our first contestants, The Turboprops!!!!!"
The leader of the gang stepped up on stage and took the microphone. Behind him, the four gang members took up instruments and waited for his cue.
"One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock rock."
On the dance floor a turboprop and his moll dressed in a pink poodle skirt jumped out onto the dance floor.
"Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock rock."
A second couple hopped out and joined the first on the dance floor.
"Nine , ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock rock."
Two other couples jumped out and joined the first pair.
"We're going to rock around the clock tonight."
The quartet began twisting and gyrating to the music as the lead singer droned on.
"These Happy Days are yours and mine, these happy days . . . ."
"Is this supposed to instill fear in the hearts of all who watch?" Heero asked.
"I'm scared just looking at them," Duo nodded, "I mean, what would happen if some of the Brill cream from their hair got on the floor? You could have a nasty slip hazard."
"Brill cream?" Heero asked stunned, "what the hell is Brill Cream?"
"It's a hair care product," Trowa stated flatly. "Never worked too well on my hair."
"That's because you need hair gel, not hair grease," Quatre said with a smile, "although that tube of Brill cream came in useful later."
The roar of the crowd signaled the end of the Turboprops Props set. With a self-satisfied shrug, the leader surrendered the stage. Trowa stepped up to take his place.
"If youse all would excuse us, my compatriots and I need to suit up for our half of the rumble. We will be on in ten. Heyyyy!!!"
The girls all swooned as Trowz flashed his smile and gave them all a thumbs up.
"Alright guys, to the men's room! It's time to suit up for the rumble."
Ten minutes later, a policeman, a carpenter, a biker, a cowboy, and a smirking Indian emerged from the men's room.
Fei was first. He was wearing a pair of snug fitting spandex bicycle shorts with a belt that sported a pair of handcuffs. The pair of military issue black combat boots on his feet looked spit shined and ready for inspection. A swat helmet was perched on his head, and flack jacket left hanging open to show his bare chest completed his limited ensemble.
He was followed by Quatre. He was wearing a yellow hard-hat and an orange safety vest over his bare chest. His scandalously high cut jean shorts were spared the dreaded NC-17 rating by a large belt of strategically placed tools.
Not to be out done, Trowa had changed too. He had shed his white tee shirt in favor of a pair of tight leather pants that matched his leather coat. A pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses rounded out his costume.
Heero strolled out next. He had on a ten-gallon hat, a blue denim vest and pair of leather chaps that ended at his snakeskin boots with silver spurs. A pair of tight leather shorts was all he had to protect his dignity.
Duo strolled out last, resplendent in his feathered headdress. His face had been painted with red and black stripes, and someone had taken the time to draw a black scythe on his chest. He wore a pair of tan leather bracers on either wrist that dripped leather fringe. The short loincloth and matching moccasins completed his costume.
Complete silence filled the diner as the five took the stage. Trowa stepped up to the microphone and tapped his foot.
"Hey! Hey!" Trowa chanted.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey," The other four chanted in unison.
"Young Man," Trowa started, "there's no need to feel down, I say young man, pick yourself off the ground . . ."
"Heero," Duo hissed.
"What?" Heero replied.
"Is that a ten gallon hat, or are you just happy to see me!"
"Shut up Baka, it's almost the chorus." Heero hissed.
". . . It's fun to stay at the Y. M. C. A." the group sang in unison.
The cosmos stifled a yawn as it felt about it's couch for the remote. It had reached the limit of it's all too brief attention span and now was craving something different. But what? Oh well, let's see what else is playing.
CLICK
"Okay, today on Monster Garage the challenge is to build a mobile doll out of an old VW Bus. Think you can do it?"
"Depends" Heero said flatly, "do you have one around I can borrow parts from?"
CLICK
"But Quatre, I'm not sleeping with your sister's, daughter's, husband's roommate's boyfriend's dog. I can't. I have a terrible disease that will soon kill me in an attractive and non-yucky way."
"Oh, Tro, I knew you wouldn't cheat on me...."
CLICK
"All right! And now on Total Request live it's the latest single by the Gboyz! 'Quit stalking me you Pink Freak!'!
The camera pans over a darkened stage. A spotlight comes on illuminating the drummer. Duo twirls his sticks, grins for the camera and begins a pounding beat, sweat beading attractively on his chest. More spotlights come up illuminating a leather-clad Quatre on keyboards, Trowa in red spandex pants with a base guitar, Wufei cradling a green and gold guitar. The last spotlight illuminates Heero- the mike against his lips, hair falling artfully over his face....
"She follows me everywhere.... Even to my darkest lair...."
CLICK
"Hey guys and gals!" Wufei, in a chinos and a polo shirt leaned over a fake kitchen counter. "Have we got a Today's Special Value for you!"
CLICK
' . . .I'll be there for you.'
Heero walks into Central Perk. "Hi," he says mournfully to the cluster of people on the central sofa.
"What's up with you man?" Trowa looks up, coffee perfectly balanced. "Bad day at the museum?"
"Yeah," Heero sits down on the couch next to Trowa. "Quatre going to start her set soon?"
"Yeah, she wrote a new song about her sisters."
Duo bounces into the coffee shop. "A mocha!" He calls to Wufei who is fighting with his perky haircut behind the counter. "How you doin'?" He asks Heero with a flirtatious grin.
CLICK
A satisfied smile crossed the cosmos's lips as the program line up appeared for the evening shows appeared on the screen. The remote control was laid to rest once more. This channel was perfect.
Stay tuned next week when Quatre says, "Trowa has my ball. You'll have to get it from him."