AN: Alright, here's a little thing I thought up a few days ago, and I decided, what the heck, why not post it? Um. it contains insanity, bad preteen behavior, oocness, comedy, drama, romance, teen angst (or preteen angst . . . whatever), drugs, alcohol, and, um, perverted thinking. Lots of other stuff, too I just can't think of right now. Oh, it's in Numbuh 4's POV. Alot of you'll probably say he'd never do/say/think any of this stuff, but, um, he's, like, twelve so . . . I dunno. If ya don't like it, there's a review button on the bottom of the page. Flaming is required, and probably looked forward to by you pyromaniacs out there (like Father). As for the rest of you, take caution when playing with fire. Oh, and I don't own KND, just so ya know.

Numbuh 2 is such a fag. I can't BELIEVE he almost forgot to give us our invitations to the annual KND summer party at moonbase!

"Oops," He had said.

"What?" I asked, looking away from the T.V. screen for a second and putting my PS2 game GRAND THEFT AUTO VICE CITY on pause (I love that game! Killing people and stealing cars is what I do best . . . cyberly, that is).

Five crumpled, stained yellow envelopes were in his grip. "Um, here's your mail from a few weeks ago."

I held the paper away from me slightly, kinda disgusted. That is, until I noticed the return address: KND Moonbase. "What did I do?" I panicked, hoping they hadn't found out about last week's cafeteria fiasco. How was I supposed to know turkey gravy was flammable? But the blue flames were pretty skate. Well, until Numbuh 1 flipped out, probably thinking Father was there, and slipped on an old dinner roll. He knocked straight into me and I was sent straight to gravy hell.

Burns are NOT skate. Neither is KND house arrest. Numbuh 1 was so POed, he hasn't let me go on any missions this week. What the Hell? Can you believe that?

I ripped the letter open, then breathed a sigh of relief. It was just an invitation. "When did you get these?" I asked, noticing the party was tonight.

"Um, three weeks ago," Numbuh 2 laughed nervously.

I laughed a little. "Numbuh 3's gonna flip when she realizes she doesn't have enough time to go get a new dress."

He shrugged. "No more than Numbuh 1 will."

Actually, I was pretty mad myself, but it wasn't like I needed to get any new clothes or anything. What would I buy? A new pair of thrift store jeans, worn only once by an old man with a weak bladder? I'm frickin' broke. Too young for a job, too old for allowance, at least according to my dad. Maybe I could lie about my age, though, and get a job at a fast food restarant or something. Just for the summer. This chick I know from Sector Q, Numbuh 484, has, like, two jobs and she's my age. She's even shorter than me ans she passes as a sixteen year old. Don't ask me how she does it. But getting a job isn't my idea of summer fun. I'd rather inject HIV infected needles in my eyeballs and run around naked through the gay community shouting 'Do me! Do me!' then work. I'll only be a kid for so long.

Plus, working around a stove isn't my area of expertise. I'd probably burn the mountain dew.

I turned back to my game, my attention span drifting. 'Alright!' I grinned wickedly as I noticed a group of girls, looking positively hookerish, hanging around the street corner. I switched my weapon to chain saw, ready for the mass decapitation (great word!).

The screen turned black before any blood hit the street.

"Hey!" I jumped to my feet, the cord dangling from Numbuh 5's hand.

She smirked. "Don't you have a floor to clean?"

Oh, I forgot to mention. As part of my 'punishment' for the whole fire thing, I had to do everyone else's chores for the rest of the week. Luckily today was the last day.

"No time," I replied. "The moonbase party thing is tonight." Score! Mopping is Numbuh 5's job and if I play my cards right, she'll be on her hands and knees by tomorrow morning.

"Then you better get to work." She answered.

That's when it hit me. Would Numbuh 1 be so tyranic not to let me go to the party? That would be pure evil of him, and I really can't see him doing that. But I had made him pretty mad, going against plans and practically burning down the school for the second time this year (the first time wasn't intentional. Um, it involved smoking in the cafeteria. Long story and I'm sure if you stick around long enough you'll hear about it. Probably from Numbuh 5, she LOVES reminding me of my pure stupidity). But would he really keep me from going to the biggest event from my life until senior prom? No I'm thinking too small. The biggest event until I get married (hopefully to a certain Asian girl with the prettiest lavender eyes you've ever seen . . . um, I mean, marriage is for babies). He couldn't. The others have all gone, but this would be my first (and last) time going. The earlier ones, until we were ten, we weren't invited to, for they believed we were too young. Then when we were ten, I was sick. Last year my dad decided I had to go to a private school clear in New York City, a million years away from here. A whole year without KND. I call that the dark ages and I don't speak about it much. Dad finally decided I could come back to school here if, and only if, I could keep my grades up. Check this out. I'm a straight A student. No joke. It's on my report card.

4 point frickin' 0. Me, Wallabee Beatles. Okay, back to the point. Numbuh 1 just CAN'T keep me from that party. He can't! I'll beg if I have to. I'll freaking watch the Rainbow Monkey Movie every night for the rest of my life if it means I can go to that one party, and I'm not just saying that.

Alright, maybe I should make a pledge or something. I, Wallabee Beatles, am allowed to attend the party then I swear to tell Kuki Sanban how I feel about her.

Come to think of it, maybe it would be better if I didn't go.