A/N: Yes, yes, we know I have Issues. That's already been discussed. Just read the chapter. And please take note that there is no way, no way ever, that even the Phantom of the Opera could get my sister to shut up.

Chapter Seven: Death of Random

Storming, or rather, walking quickly, as I'm not weather, down the street, I took the first right and stepped into a puddle. After being barked at by some large dogs, a two-week journey on a boat, during which we were attacked by pirates and I was the only one who escaped, bribery of the pirates to drop me off in America, being dropped off in Antarctica instead (bloody pirates), hitch hiking my way to Brazil, being kidnapped and held for ransom and then fighting my way free and swimming to Canada, being taken in by a nice family in Quebec, then journeying across country to Victoria, after which I had two nice rides on ferries, following which I stole a VW bus that had some stoned-out hippies in the back, and drove at a very slow pace (it was a VW bus after all) to Northern California, cut across the neighbor's lawn to save time, and found myself at the abode of the odious Random Battlecry, crap writer extraordinaire.

Taking a moment to compose myself, I banged on the door as hard as I could, hurting my fist in the process.

Almost immediately, it was opened by a tall child with bright blue eyes and a tendency to talk a lot. A lot.

"Hey!" she said. "My name is Larry! You're a stranger, I don't know who you are. Do you know who you remind me of?"

I tried to say something but she cut me off, rather rudely in my opinion.

"You remind me of my dog, Hannah. Do you know that they say pets end up resembling their owners? They say the same thing about cars. I don't have a car. I have a dog. We have five dogs. Do you have a dog? Would you like to see my dog? My dog's name is Jade. She's big and white. I'm teaching her tricks. I already taught her how to breathe. She's really good at it too, I just say 'Breathe' and she breathes right away! Its amazing, she's so talented. She's very special."

"I—"

"I taught her to sit too. I mean, she doesn't always do it when I say, but she knows how."

This seemed to be my cue, for she stopped staring and stared brightly at me with her mouth open.

"Er, uh, well," I said, rather at a loss, "perhaps if you synchronized your efforts so you were commanding her to sit at the same time as she was already sitting, you both would be happy. And, er, a lot better off. Er."

She grinned. "So are you here for a reason? Are you one of my dad's clients? Are you selling something? Should I be afraid of you? What?"

"I'm, er, here to see Random."

Her brow furrowed for a split second and then her face cleared. "Oh, Random. My big sister. Right. Come on in, I'll show you her room. But first let me show you my room—"

I find it ironic that after coming so far in a relatively short time (provided you look at it the right way), once I actually arrived at my destination it appeared that I would be delayed permanently from achieving my goal. Larry led me to her room and then proceeded to talk. About everything and nothing. She and Little Lotte had quite a bit in common.

Did I mention that upon entering the house I was severely barked at by a ferocious Corgi?

Finally, just as I thought I would never be clear of this place, Larry suddenly about-faced and led me to the room wherein Random sat, typing at her computer.

The young woman whirled around to face me as I entered, glancing at her watch and grinning.

"Right on time."

"What?" I said blankly.

"Just as I expected, Erik. You got barked at by some large dogs, took a two-week journey on a boat, during which you were attacked by pirates and you were the only one who escaped, bribed of the pirates to drop you off in America, got dropped off in Antarctica instead, bloody pirates, hitch hiked your way to Brazil, got kidnapped and held for ransom and then fought your way free, swimming to Canada, being taken in by a nice family in Quebec, then journeying across country to Victoria, after which you had two nice rides on ferries, following which you stole a VW bus that had some stoned-out hippies in the back, and drove at a very slow pace, as it was a VW bus after all, to Northern California, cut across the neighbor's lawn to save time, and found yourself— here."

She grinned at me again, that ferocious and annoying flash of sharp teeth.

"Its all here. Written down. Or, typed, rather. Take a look."

Stepping forward, I leaned over her shoulder and glared at the computer screen as though daring it to show me all that. But there it was, large as life. Or at least, large as words on a computer screen. Which may or may not be comparable in size to life. I'm not sure. Up till now, I hadn't thought about it.

However, this is the point that the hippies who had been in the Volkswagon decided to make their entrance, stumbling slightly and grinning stupidly under the influence of whatever dubious substances they'd been inhaling, or drinking, or chewing, or smoking, or staring at so long their eyes watered. Much to my surprise, Random appeared to be delighted with them.

"Rainbow!" she said, greeting them one by one. "Sunshine! Moonshine! Monkeyshine! Moonflower! Glad you could make it, I had every confidence that you would."

Eyeing the hippies, who stumbled around her cluttered room examining things best left unexamined, I said slowly, "I just realized that they resemble someone—"

"Course they do," said Random, turning back to the computer for a moment and typing another few words. She grinned slightly. "They resemble four Tom Pettys and a Johnny Depp."

"Why four Tom Pettys?" I demanded, outraged on Johnny Depp's behalf.

She glanced back at me. "Because this way I have a barbershop quartet, all of whom sing with the Whine of Seduction. Not something to be sneezed at. Or coughed at. Or blinked at. Or any bodily functioned at."

"I've already used that line," I objected, crossing my arms huffishly and scowling at her in a way that should have made her crawl weeping under the desk. She stared back at me for a moment, and then crawled weeping under the desk.

In some pride that my scowl had had the desired effect, I uncrossed my arms, raised my eyebrows, and allowed a slight twitch of a smile to cross my face. She stuck her head out from underneath the desk, then allowed the rest of her body to emerge as well.

"Appeased your vanity, have we?" she inquired, sitting once more on the desk chair and planting bare feet on the desk. Her left toes twitched rhythmically to an offbeat beat that only she could fathom. I resumed scowling. She tapped shorn-short fingernails on the desk.

"Now that you're here," she suggested, "was there something you wanted to say? Sunshine, please put that down. Sunshine, that's breakable. Sunshine, you broke it. Sunshine, don't step on the glass. Sunshine, there's bandaids in the medicine cabinet. Why is it," she pondered, I can only assume rhetorically, as the hippy limped out of the room, "that he never listens to anything I say?"

"Perhaps because nothing you say makes any sense," I suggested waspishly. She thought about this for a moment and then admitted it to be perfectly true.

"But you did have a reason for coming?"

"Yes. I want to kill you."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot."

"How, if you say you're the one writing this fiasco, could you have forgotten that its entire purpose is to have someone die every chapter?"

"Well," she said vaguely, "I guess I was a bit angry with the world when I started writing it, and now— I'm not. I tell you, Erik, I've gone through some changes. Hormonal, personality, intelligence, bodily, mentally— a whole strew of changes. And I find that the world is indeed a better place for my existence here. I make my parents happy. I'm not a trouble maker, I'm an upstanding citizen. I do my best to make people smile whenever I can. I'm getting very close to not being a teenager, and feeling less like taking the world on in a one-on-one fight, and more like doing what I can for it, helping it out if at all possible. I believe I may have some sort of destiny, except of course that I don't believe in destiny. I believe that I may have some sort of purpose, except of course that often when I start my sentences, by the time I get to the end of them I've forgotten what exactly it was I was talking about, but I am assured that this is normal behavior for me and nothing to worry about. In short, Erik, I've found my place in the world and I'm not keen on leaving it. I've just started to enjoy things. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but that's the way it is."

I stared at her.

"You're a moron," I said, and tipped her chair over backwards.

She struck her head on the hard tile floor, and it was all over.

On my way out, I tied up the Tom-Petty-lookalike hippies because they dared to sing in my vicinity. I took the Johnny Depp hippy with me, however, because I thought he'd make a nice pet.

Little did I know—