And again, here we are on this wonderful, er, first full week of June. Everyone give a "Yeehaw!", and thank God for Michigan's 100 degree weather and tornadoes. Last Sunday, on the way up there, in Saginaw County, there was a tornado watch and huge thunderstorms. Never actually saw anything touch down, but... I pity da fool that scares me. And then, it gets up to 100 flippin' degrees. When had that ever happened in Michigan? Not at anytime recently that I could remember. But here I am back in Ohio, back to band carwashes and 50 degree weather mid-June. Fun now we are having. (Thought I'd try to talk like Yoda there. If I'm wrong, go ahead and tell me. I'll be okay. I'll probably just go hide out in my bomb shelter under my room and tell myself that I suck and that I'll never be anything until I die... at which point my prophecy will come true.) Okay, enough of my random and stupid rant. Reviewers!
Okay, reviewers, I'd like to thank all who voiced their opinion over story lengths! So I'd like to say- this chapter marks the return of YFWE's longer chapters:)
MooseMan: They're longer again! Oh, and you especially might wanna read this chapter. Why?
Just read on, and you'll find out.
Lavenderpaw (both reviews): Thanks a lot! That's basically my aim in this fic- to make people laugh, 'cause I've been so damn serious in my other fics. Love your story, too!
CelloSolo2007: You want more? I'll give you more! (Read chapter)
GoldSky: Thanks! That part had me laughing when I wrote it, if I remember correctly. I just forget where that part is. Could ya tell me? Oh, and your story's pretty cool too!
TerraNova: There you are! Usually you update, like, right after I update! Was about to send out a search party for ya! (And still need one for KrazieShadowNinja. Anyone know where she's been lately? She hasn't updated her stories or anything!) And yep, longer chaps are back! And late fees are gone from Blockbuster! Thanks for reviewing!
Moogie: Longer chapters are back! Thanks!
Here we go. This is Ch. 7. Some of you may be saying, "Wait a sec! You skipped Ch. 6!" Here's what I have to say to that: 1), Sue me. 2) Kiss mah ass. 3) I go to Brookville (school joke! Every one of us smaller schools has 'em!) 4) Just read the damn story. 5) AOL is protecting you against identity theft.
Dragon in Paradise: Of Plywood, Vibrators, and Balloons
YFWE
"G! Whassup?", Jake greeted when he came in their hotel room after coming back from his encounter with the Calloway Devil and Huntsgirl, "Got a question for ya."
"Yes?", asked Grandpa as he laid on his bed watching Hotel Rwanda.
"Um... so, does, like, every country in the world have a dragon?", he asked.
"Hm... yes, I suppose so. Most of them do, why?"
"What about a dragon in the Bahamas? The Bahamian Dragon?"
"Not sure about that", Grandpa replied, "After all, there are hundreds of islands here. How do you think that, if there was a Bahamian Dragon, he/she would be able to cover all that distance?"
"I guess you're right. But that reminds me- why am I only in the NYC. I'm the American Dragon, not the Big New Yorker Dragon."
"Well, that one is a little more simple. New York just happens to be the center of all magical activity in America, with the exception of Area 51 and St. Paul, Minnesota. Furthermore, New York is the Huntsclan's main base. That is why we stay here. Now, was there any reason you were you asking about a Bahamian Dragon?"
"What? Oh, no. No reason at all. I was just, you know... curious, that's all", Jake replied, and was about to turn and walk away when he saw what Grandpa was watching, "What the hell is that?"
"It is Hotel Rwanda, fool!"
"You just... since when do you use the word 'fool'?"
"Since I started watching the 'A-Team'! Why?"
"Oh, nothing/"
(End)
Rotwood's Dumpster Experience
TUESDAY (Yay, Pizza Hut's 2xTuesday!)
"Alright, so we're here", commented Regan as the Huntsclan's four new recruits (heh, forgot to put them in there last chapter) stood near Grandpa's shop the next morning. "Now all we need is Professor Rotwood."
But where was he? He said to meet there the next day. But no Rotwood. But, wait, there he was, On top of a roof. Why the hell was he on the roof? Well, fools, let's listen in.
"Dis is Professor Rotwood here on Tuesday, April de 2nd, 2005. Today, myself and four other... accomplices... vill be heading into a place dat is said to house not one, not two... oh, vait, yes, two, dragons!" He said 'dragons' so loud that the new recruits could hear him.
"Yo, prof!", Mikhaila waved, "Why you up there? We gotta job to do!"
"Sshhh!", Rotwood shushed, "You vant me to be... aah!" He slipped off the side of the roof, and landed in... a dumpster. (I love using dumpsters in my fics... even if most of my fics should be IN a dumpster)
"Um... should we go help him?", Brittney asked.
"Might as well. We've already paid him." Sighing, the four of them went over to the dumpster. Which, luckily for Rotwood, was almost overflowing with trash. "Ooh... dat hurt", came his moan inside the dumpster, "But I do not think it is broken... yet." ('Yet' referring to the Ski Trip episode when he ends up breaking just about every bone in his body.)
"Um... that's good, I guess", Regan tried not to laugh, "But could you please come out now? We have work to do."
"Oh, yes, sure. But let me take in dis moment here."
"Why? You're lying in a dumpster!"
"Yes, yes, I know. Just a moment", he started to get up, but promptly fell back down. They shook their heads. "Regan? You sure there was no one else for the job?", Mikhaila asked.
"Positive", Regan replied. "I mean, it's not like you see ads like that every day. In fact, I'd never seen one in my life prior to this."
They moved away from the oversized trash can that Rotwood was in (that almost sounds like a metaphor. I don't know how, but... yeah), continuing to rant on about what kind of weirdo he was. But then they heard a loud engine rumble toward them. It was a trash truck, and it was coming for the dumpster Rotwood was in.
"Shit!", Regan yelled, "Stop!" He began running toward the truck. But it used the forklift-like thing on the front of it to lift up the dumpster and dump its contents. Which, of course, meant Rotwood was now inside. "Wait", they yelled, but it was too late, as the truck drove away. "C'mon, guys! We gotta go after it!"
"Er... gotta problem with that", Mikhaila pointed out, "Number one- we don't really need him anyway, in my opinion. Number two- I know you're not gonna believe this", she noted sarcastically, "But everyone's favorite kid-wit-da-problem is on the loose again."
"Wha? What do you mean... oh, god damnit! Derk! Get your ass back here!"
(End)
The Return of Spud
"There you are!", Trixie had her hands on her hips when Spud walked in the shop door. He had left her, obviously, the day before to try his hand at surfing. And he had almost succeeded. But unfortunately, as he was floating on his way toward the Statue of Liberty and Liberty Island, he was stopped by the US Coast Guard, and brought back. He lost his plywood surfboard in the process. "You bailed out on me! That's not gonna happen again... right?"
"Um... no?", Spud said, thinking that it could.
"I'd be a whole lot madder if I didn't have to open the place up. So get it in gear an' let's go!"
"Gotcha!", Spud smirked, and followed Trixie to a back closet, "Hey! D'ya think Gramps might have, like... a piece of plywood or somethin'?
"Uh... why?", asked Trixie.
"Because... well, you see", Spud was struggling to find an excuse as to why he needed one, "My parents... said they needed it for their bedroom. Dunno why. But I really don't wanna know what goes on in my parents' bedroom."
Trixie paused for a moment, "Wow. I just got some NASTY images that I never wanna see again."
"Did you also get the image with the plywood, and the vibrator, and the balloons, and the..."
"STOP!", Trixie screamed, and ran away from Spud and into the bathroom.
"Honey, you okay?", called Spud from outside the door, "D'ya want me to come in there and help..."
"GO AWAY!", Trixie gasped between deep breaths. Had she just thrown up?
Just then, the bell on the front doors of the shop began to ring. Someone was here. "Uhh... be right back, Trix. Someone's here!", he said, and ran back to the store section of the building. "Welcome to... uh", he pulled a business card out of his pocket, "Oh yeah. Grandpa's Electronics and Asian Culture Store. I'm Spud, and Trixie's in the bathroom."
The person that had come in was a man in his 30's. Just looked like... a typical New Yorker. Since this guy was an adult, Spud saw his chance. "Excuse me, sir. But could I ask you a quick question?" The man nodded. "Okay. What do you see in an image with a piece of plywood, a vibrator, balloons, and a..." The man paused, and his eyes widened. He bolted out the door. "Trixie! I found another one like us! He also sees the image with the..." Trixie threw up again.
DING DING! The door opened again. A person in a big trenchcoat and black hat walked in. "Hello, sir", Spud figured he was a 'he', "Welcome to Grandpa's Electronics and Asian Culture Store! Right now, for a limited time, if you buy one of those golden buddhas over there", he pointed to a shelf with the buddhas on it, "And a 1996 Panasonic VCR", he pointed to another shelf, "Then you get a Boudreaux's Butt Paste hat and a bumper sticker that says "My Little Asian Friend screwed your honor roll student". But only for a limited time!"
Unlike any other American, who would either be entirely grossed out or rolling around on the ground with laughter, this guy continued to stand there at the counter. "Um, hello?", Spud waved his hand in front of the guy's face. Extremely quickly, the man reached up and grabbed Spud's arm. His grip was really strong... too strong. Spud couldn't feel his arm. With his other hand, the man took off his hat. It was... "Ryan Cabrera!" (Heh, got ya. It's not him. Sorry, bad joke.) It was... "Mr. T!", Spud cried, "Trixie! Mr. T is back for me!"
"Yeah, sure", Trixie said, apparently feeling a little better, "That's what you said yesterday, but there was never a Mr. T! I came down to find you, and you weren't even there! I'm not gonna believe you this time."
"I PITY DA FOOL dat don't believe in Mr. T!", Mr. T yelled at Trixie.
"Damn, Spud. You even sound like him, too! That's kinda cool!"
"Ah, so your name is Spud", Mr. T laughed, "Well, Spud. Mr. T doesn't like it when Spud tries to run over Mr. T with a shopping cart from Mr. T's third favorite store (GNC has now overtaken Wal Mart to move into second place and is now setting its sights on Hot Topic. Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen and cybertoy ), especially when Mr. T is trying to carry home his groceries but almost drops them. Does Spud know what was in Mr. T's grocery bag?"
Spud shook his head, "No, sir."
"I'll tell you what! Mr. T had 20 containers of Country Crock margarine in there. Knwo why?"
Spud shook his head again.
"Because margarine is the only thing that will fuel Mr. T's pimpmobile! No gasoline will work. That is why Mr. T will teach Spud a lesson that will keep Spud from doing this again. Think of it this way- now on ABC, "Extreme Makeover: When Mr. T's Fist Met Spud's Face Edition"! Which reminds me", he slightly loosened his grip on Spud's arm, "What about that announcer. I mean, Mr. T isn't sure if Mr. T likes him, but... Mr. T thinks he seems so appropriate for the show."
This was Spud's chance. He slowly wriggled his arm free from Mr. T's grasp and began sprinting toward the back door of the shop that lead to an alleyway. "Hey! I PITY DA FOOL dat runs away from Mr. T while Mr. T is ranting on about Extreme Makeover: Home Edition!" He also began towards the back door, where Spud was headed, "Trix! Be right back!", Spud yelled.
"You always leavin'!", Trixie yelled back, "You better not be goin' out to the Harbor!"
(End)
Potentially Eventful Day, and Pope's Intro to 7 Eleven
It was also the next morning in the Bahamas. It had been an uneventful night prior. Grandpa had fallen asleep while watching "Gigli", and all Jake had done was continue to court for a rollaway bed. He once again couldn't find any stewards (English-speaking, that is). So, for the second night in a row, he slept in the bathtub. Fu was... well, they weren't quite sure where Fu had been. But they had a good idea, as he had staggered into the room at 2:00 that morning, with alcohol on his breath, and now, a splitting headache. So, after an uneventful night, it had quite the potential to be an eventful one today.
There was a knock at their door. "Gramps, could ya get that?", asked Fu weakly, rubbing the wet towel that was on his forehead.
"Not now. The Pope is getting his first taste of American culture", Grandpa said as he watched MSNBC's live telecast of the new Pope eyeing a 7 Eleven Big Gulp suspiciously. "Jake, you go get it!"
"But I'm in the shower!", Jake called from the steamy clutches of the Holiday Inn bathroom.
"Do not talk back to me! Now!"
Muttering obscenities under his breath, Jake wrapped a towel around himself and opened the bathroom door. "Yo, put some clothes on, kid!", Fu shouted, covering his eyes.
"But I've gotta towel on!", Jake exclaimed, "Oh, screw it." He walked over to the hotel room door and opened it. A room steward was standing there. "Good morning, sir. I have a delivery for... Dog, Fu?"
"Yeah, uh... I'll take it for him." The steward handed him an envelope. "Fu, you got mail."
"Read it to me."
"Can't you..."
"Can't you see I'm crippled here?", Fu fumed, arms raised, "Now read."
"Maybe if you didn't go out an' drink last night, this wouldn't happen", Jake muttered.
"Hey! First of all", Fu started, "I didn't drink anything. And second, even if I did drink, and I'm not sayin' I did, know this: You don't get hangovers from drinking; you get 'em from wakin' up!"
"Y'know? That actually made sense in a sad sort of way."
"Just read the damn letter, kid."
"A'ight", Jake tore open the envelope, "It says... 'today, at No Worries' Restaurant and Lounge, join us at noon sharp for a Toga Party'. A toga party?"
"Ah, yeah, heard they were gonna do that. You guys wanna go?", asked Fu.
"Um...", Jake was thinking about not going, when he remembered- Victoria. Could she be there? "Sure. I'm down with it. Gramps?"
They both stared over at Grandpa, who had his eyes no more than 2 inches from the TV screen. "Oh my! I cannot believe it! He drank the Big Gulp!"
They sighed.
(End)
Not the Smartest Match in the Matches Box
Spud was quite afraid. No one wants to be chased by a big angry man in New York- especially if it's Mr. T, the deadliest man ever to... um... pity da fool!
But somehow, Spud was able to lose Mr. T- for the time being. It was possibly because Mr. T wasn't exactly the smartest match in the matches box. Or maybe Spud was just that good at hiding.
His actual hiding spot was a cardboard box not far from the back door of Grandpa's shop. Eventually, he could hear Mr. T come into his vicinity. "Spud... oh, Spud... Mr. T hopes you are here..." He looked behind things- but never in things, luckily for Spud. After a while or searching, Spud heard Mr. T sigh, "Well, you win this time, Spud. But Mr. T will be back."
Spud waited until he was sure that Mr. T was out of sight, and then stepped out of the box. "Whew", he breathed a sigh of relief, "Glad that's over. Now to get back to Trixie!"
(End)
What the Hell was the Author On When He Wrote This?
"Can I help you?", Trixie asked the shop's third (counting Mr. T) customer that morning. It was an older lady.
"Yes. I was just wondering... what is that shopping cart doing in the parking space in front of this store?", she asked.
"What?", Trixie looked out the window. Sure enough, there was a shopping cart sitting out front. Its wheels looked a little worn out, though. And it appeared to be drying in the sun. "Well, um... I...", Trixie had no clue what to say.
Luckily for her, Spud just so happened to be returning to the shop, "Spud, my bud!", she greeted him.
Spud looked at her in a confused daze, "You just rhymed. What was in YOUR coffee this morning?"
"I told you before, I don't drink coffee", she replied, and pointed out the window, "What's the shopping cart for?"
Spud looked over her. "Oh, that!", he turned to the lady, "Um... that's my ride."
"Your ride", the lady, too, looked confused.
"Uh... yeah. I've got the motor in the back", Spud said proudly.
The lady shrugged her shoulders, and began on her way, browsing the shelves. "Hey! I forgot to tell you!", Spud called after her, "If you buy one of those golden buddhas and..."
Trixie slapped him on the back, "She won't want your extra stuff!"
"Well, maybe I do. What's the deal?", she asked.
And Spud told her what she'd get. "Of course!", she showed no hesitation in buying the things and getting her hat and bumper sticker. "You see", she said, "I have my own little Asian friend", she nodded toward her car, "I named him Danny. I don't know why, though, because I don't know any Asian people named Danny, except him. But whatever. See him?" Inside her car, there he was. Holding up a sign that read "Help Me!" "Ha, isn't... he... cute", she said half-sarcastically. (The way she says that, I picture it like Jim Carrey in "Series of Unfortunate Events" when he says something like "While I enjoy the immense fortune your parents left... behind", and kinda twitches a little. That's what it kinda looks like. Okay. Buy my album.) "Well, goodbye". She walked out to her car, at which point Danny took the sign down and faced front, as if nothing ever happened.
"Ta da!" Someone else was inside. While watching the old lady leave, Trixie and Spud must've never seen this person come in. It was a guy dressed head to toe in a brown elastic jumpsuit with a yellow head mask and antlers protruding from it.
"Who... the hell... are you?", Trixie asked.
"I am Moose Man!", he struck a pose.
(ATTENTION: my neighbor's car just exploded. Really! The fire department's here and everything! Michigan is cool! Only you can prevent forest fires!)
"Moose Man. Um, yeah", Trixie wondered if she was actually seeing this, "Okay. Can I help you?"
"Ah, but it's not 'Can I help you', but 'Can I help YOU?"
Trixie turned to Spud, "id you hear a difference in the two?"
"Well, according to my calculations", Spud picked up a pair of large glasses he had found under the counter, "He put a little more emphasis on the second tome he said 'you'."
"Well, alright", she turned back to Moose Man, "Whaddya want?"
"Simple! I'm here to help you guys learn what in your house here is dangerous!", Moose Man said. (I'm gonna call him MM from now on)
"Um... this isn't our house..."
"But you're here, aren't you? Now listen. I'm gonna sing a song."
"God help us", Trixie sighed.
"Do you guys have a piano?", MM asked.
"No."
"Dammit. Well, then I must go a capella", he went over to one of the shelves and began to sing, "When you have flammable objects next to heaters, they might catch on fire and then your whole house will burn down."
"And if you give a moose a muffin", Spud said, "Chances are he'll want another one because moose are BIG FAT PIGS!"
"I'm just gonna disregard that and keep singing, "Oh...", he started again.
"Hey wait!", Trixie stopped him, "Two things. First- isn't this Smokey the Bear's job?"
"Smokey's on sick leave. I'm fillin' in for him. He said something about visiting his dying aunt in El Salvador, and then heading to Los Angeles for the National Kingsford Charcoal Convention."
"Okay. Second, that heater over there hasn't worked in twenty years, according to Grandpa. I think it's fine."
"Man, you're quite the downer, aren't you?", Moose Man looked a little miffed, "No biggie. I'll just keep singin'. Take some of this", he threw a packet of something to Spud.
"What is this?", Spud asked, opening the packet.
"It'll make all your problems go away. I take a little each day before I come out an' do this!"
Spud and Trixie looked inside. It was a little white powder, and two straws. "Is this what I think it is?", Trixie looked up at Moose Man, "Is this cocaine?"
"Yep!", MM smiled, "Now... try a little."
"No way, man. Just buy somethin' or get out. Right, Spud? ...Spud?" She waited for a response.
Spud already had his nose deep inside the packet. "Spud! Stop it!"
"Wow...", Spud laughed, "This stuff is cool."
"Aw, hell", Trixie joined him.
"Wow... Trixie, you're hot...", Spud laughed, in a daze.
"I love your hat..."
They both looked up at Moose Man, who said, "Looks like chicken tonight!"
Obviously, they were too caught up to hear the sound of a window opening upstairs. The sun roof.
"I'm in", Derek said, "And the coast is clear." The rest of them, Prof. Rotwood included, leapt inside.
"What was that?", Trixie asked, her mouth white like Dave Chappelle's character on "Chappelle's Show".
"I didn't hear anything..."
"Well, I heard somethin'", she got up, and turned to go upstairs, where she thought the noise had come from.
"Leaving so soon?", MM asked.
"Uh, yeah. Now, could you please leave?", Trixie asked.
"Well... I guess so. Could I take my crack and your crack-addicted friend with me?"
"Sure, whatever. Just get out."
"Thanks! See ya. Oh, and remember what I said about that heater", he pointed at it, "I still think that it's not a good idea to put a shelf with lighters shaped like Mao Zedong there. But what do I know? I'm just a crack-addicted moose!" He left, dragging Spud behind him, who called, "See ya, Julia!"
"Julia? Whateva", she once again attempted to make her way upstairs. But the phone rang. "Damn these telemarketers", she went over to the phone.
"The phone's ringing", Mikhaila said upstairs, "She may not be able to hear us moving around while she's on the phone. We hafta move quick!"
"But... vat are ve looking for?", Rotwood asked.
"We're looking for any kind of document or hint to the identity of the American Dragon", replied Regan.
"American... dragon? I did not know dere vere more dan just dragons."
"Yeah... and you also didn't know the Huntsclan existed."
"I still do not believe dat dey do", Rotwood said, "But okay. Vatever."
"Huntsclan... move!", Regan commanded, and they sprung into action.
"Here I come!", Trixie called upstairs, "You can't hide! Oh, wait!" She snatched her "Magic Spells for Dummies" book. "Now I'm ready!"
(End)
What Have We Learned Today?
What have we learned today? We have learned that toga parties are BACK! And that Mr. T likes to watch "Extreme Makeover! We have also learned that there was something in the air in Michigan, 'cause that's where I wrote this, and looking back, this chapter was just weird. That's all at least I learned. Now , pop quiz time!
What image do YOU get with a piece of plywood, vibrator, balloons, and a...
END CHAPTER
Ok, chapter seven is complete! And I'd like to start this off by saying to MooseMan- I know you're not a crack-addicted drug lord. (At least I hope not...) That's just something I thought of. If you took any at all offense to this, I am very sorry.
Ok, so hope y'all liked the new chapter! And it's longer again! Yay! If anyone has anything they liked or didn't like, please tell me! See ya later!
YFWE