Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, and nothing in here. Not to mention nothing in here. Zip, zero, zilch.

Hyde A/N: Here we go. Yet another chapter. Which hopefully I shall finish soon. I really should have gotten started before now but I didn't. But I shall finish ASAP. Because there are impatient people out there who do not like to wait two weeks between chapters.

Grungle. I wish summer lasted longer. You know that schools start up in a little over a month? Where did it all go?! –runs in circles looking for it—

Smeagol: Checkssss betweenss your toesssssssss.

Hyde: Between my toes?

Smeagol: That'ssss where Ssmeagol findsss thingssss he loosesssss.

Hyde: Between your toes?

Smeagol: Yessssssss.

Hyde: When was the last time you bathed?

Smeagol: We can'tsss remembersss.

Hyde: Good, I don't want to know.

Amon knocked on Touko's door not without apprehension. If this ploy failed, he suspected he would be in very deep trouble.

"What?" she said irritably, yanking the door open.

"Um, can I come in?"

"Whatever thou wisheth." She opened the door wide and proceeded him into the kitchen.

"Um…Touko, I have something for you."

"If it be a coffeemaker, I shall accept it not. For within my heart there is a hole, which only mine Stewart can fill."

"It's not a coffeemaker."

"Good." Then, Touko seemed to forget her gift and she wandered into the sittingroom, mumbling '…the gods must be crazy…bananas in my hairdryer…' over and over again. Amon followed her.

"Um, Touko, I have something for you."

"No, I…I wish it not. Please, begone, and bring thyself not back into this dwelling for yet a time. I wish to be alone with mine memories…of Stewart…mine wondrous…darling."

"But…I want you to have this."

"No…" Touko seemed disoriented. "I couldn't…not…Stewart…"

"Please." Amon was getting tired of repeating himself. He wondered if Touko was still on sedatives. "Where's Robin?"

"Um…Methinks at work."

"Did she give you any medicine this morning?"

"Nay…Only last night."

"You're better then."

Touko stared at him as though she was quite confused.

"Never mind. Just…take it." Amon shoved the box he was holding into her arms.

"What is it? Not a coffeemaker?"

"No. You'll find out."

Touko set the box on the couch and tried to peel up the packing tape holding it shut.

She looked up at him imploringly. "I cannot open it."

"Um…where are your scissors?"

"In the bathroom."

"Why are they in the bathroom?"

"I was using them…to get the bananas out of Roy."

"Roy?"

"Mine curling iron."

Amon raised one eyebrow and went to fetch the scissors. I thought the bananas were in her hairdryer.

The sight that met Amon when he entered the bathroom was one that made him stop in his tracks, raise both eyebrows, and blink. There were bananas smashed against everything everywhere. All of Touko's bathroom appliances were scattered all over the floor. Most of them looked like they had been in a war in which the other side was using bananas instead of cannonballs. The curling iron (excuse me, Roy) was on the counter, looking scratched up. And still covered in bananas. But where were the scissors?

He scanned the bathroom, loath to step in and risk befouling his bad black clothes with banana goop. Unable to locate the scissors by sight, he looked for something with which to probe the unsightly mess. A broom. Perfect.

He poked and prodded among the piles of banana goop in various places on the floor and counter. Finally, he felt something hard in a large pile next to the…uh, Roy. He knocked it onto the floor. Sure enough, it was the scissors. He slid them towards himself, and finally captured them. Holding them with two fingers at arms-length, he hurried into the kitchen to wash them off.

When he turned to the sittingroom to hand Touko the scissors, she was gone. He found her out on the balcony, using the box as a chair.

"Bananas…" she muttered.

"Touko. I found the scissors."

"Good." She sat there, staring out across the cement sea that surrounded her.

"Um…you can open the box now."

"Mmm…" she said, betraying the fact that she wasn't paying the least attention.

"Touko. Look at me."

"Hmm?" She turned to face him.

"Here are the scissors. You can open the box now."

"Oh. It is not a…re…replacement…for…Stewart?"

"No." If he were more articulate, Amon might have further explained that it was a mere offering of condolences. But he is not articulate, as we all know, so he left that part unsaid.

Touko accepted the scissors and cut open the box. She lifted out an object covered in layers of bubble wrap.

"Ooh, bubble wrap," she said, and began pulling it off. But the bubble wrap was forgotten when she saw what the bubble wrap had been concealing.

"A breadmachine! Oh, Amon, darling, a breadmachine! I hath always wanted a breadmachine! Oh, how didst thou know?"

Amon opened his mouth to make some sort of excuse, but Touko interrupted him and all that came out was "ah…"

"Oh, never mind, darling, 'tis wondrous! Oh, what shall her name be?"

"Abigail?" Amon couldn't help it. It popped right out without his macho consent.

"Oh, 'tis a beautiful name. A wondrous, beautiful name. Thanks be unto thee, Amon darling. Abigail…Oh Abigail, no greater love hath any woman for her breadmachine than I for thee. Forever shalt thou be treasured close to mine heart, though I should come to hate even Roy." And after that emotional, touching, and moving speech (of which Amon understood not a word) she danced Abigail over to her counter and set the beloved breadmachine in a place of honor, right next to the treasured remains of Stewart's coffeepot.

"Stewart, ah, Stewart, never shall I forget thee…" Her gaze was far away, lost in reminiscence. Then, she turned back toward Amon, a peaceful smile on her face and tears in her eyes. Amon was solemn and unreadable. If the emotional events he just witnessed touched him, we couldn't tell.

"Amon, darling, thou hast made me happy. Go thee now to thy job, knowing that Abigail and I art well, happy, and contented." She smiled hugely, and followed him to the door.

"Goodbye, Touko."

"Fare thee well, mine Amon." She gave him a parting, kindly smile and closed the door. Amon stood there, staring at it. Half of him was relieved; she seemed to be cured from her post-traumatic stress or whatever. But yet, though he would never admit it, he felt almost jealous of the new Abigail. Abigail. That reminded him. He still had to get rid of Abigail.

He picked up his communicator.

................................................

"Doujima. I have another assignment for you."

"What now?"

"I want you to go back to Abigail. Disguise yourself so she won't recognize you. Pretend to be a reporter and interview her on her life as a prophet of the Omnipotent Mother Goddess. Find out anything you can and record it. Put the tape in my mailbox."

"One question…Does this mean I can buy a new outfit for my disguise?"

"Do whatever you want."

"Amon, what is your obsession with this girl?"

"I'm not telling you anything, Doujima. If you knew, you would understand. But you aren't going to know."

Doujima sighed. "Okay. Whatever. By the way, did you know that when she entered Japan about five years ago her religious affiliation was listed as Oatmealism?"

"No, but it figures."

"And she said something about having switched from the Devoted of the Goddess of Oatmeal to the Devoted of her Sister."

"Yes…thank you for telling me. That may help. And remember, this mission is top secret. You can't tell anyone about what you do."

"Right, Amon."

He hung up.

So, she had been 'Devoted' to the Goddess of Oatmeal, and then switched to the Omnipotent Mother Goddess. He might be able to use that information. Maybe get someone to portray themselves as a 'Devoted' to Oatmeal who is jealous because of Abigail's desertion to the Mother Goddess…

Whump thump smack.

Amon tripped over a fire hydrant, so deep was he in contemplation. Oh no. The Bad Black Coat had a small tear.

This looked like a job for…Robin.

...................................................

Hyde A/N: It occurs to me that if it wasn't so funny, this would be drama or something like that. You know, take out 'Stewart' and 'the Goddess of Oatmeal'. But I like it funny. It's more fun that way. And I don't think I could write a serious WHR fic anyway. It's all been done before. There are zillions of serious WHR fics and hardly any funny ones. Besides Amon and Laundry, I've only found one other humor fic so far that I really liked. And I can't remember what its called.

Smeagol: Isss it called 'Smeagol takesss over the worldsssss'?

Hyde: No. Definitely not.

Smeagol: Ratsssssss. We should writessss one like thatsss. Itsss would be the besssst!

Hyde: Somehow, I doubt it. And you are NOT going to write anything anyway. You use WAY too many s's.

Smeagol: Sssssso?

Hyde: Go away.

Smeagol: Neversssss.

Hyde: If you don't, I'll make you stand in the sun for an hour…

Smeagol: Okay, we leavesssss…--mutters— Nasssssty cruel sun, hurtsss uss…

And now its time for…bum bum BUM!…review responses!

Ein: Probably the only way your day could get better is if candy falls from the sky. :)

Emma: He's not really a stalker, though I imagine he could be. He'd probably use fancy electronic tracking equipment. But Amon would be a better stalker because he would be good and hanging around just behind you with a scary Sullen Stare constantly aimed at your back and his hand always near his orbo gun, ready to jump out at you when he gets you alone in a dark alley and threaten you. –shudders— Creepy but easily imagined.

St Earns: You get an extra special dish of the Glorious and Wonderful Butter Pecan ice cream because you review me every time. You are practically the only one. –applause-- Some people should take notes. Although, I guess Ais usually reviews. I think she tried to review the last chapter but something messed up.

I wonder if the person who saved all the ink pens was just a pack rat. My little sister is. She keeps everything. You wouldn't believe all the stuff she has hoarded around. Stuff that just sits around and she never uses. I guess pack rats have this thing where they keep everything 'just in case they need it' or because they 'can't bear to part with it'. She tries to organize it but she still runs out of places to put it all.

I only got three reviews for chapter seven! And I imagine there are more than three people that read this. Well, Ais has an excuse because something messed up when she tried to review. I guess maybe that happened to everyone else too, I don't know. But review anyway, please. You can all have virtual scoops of the Glorious and Immortal Butter Pecan Ice Cream if you review…

May the tree in your front yard never drop melons on your head,

Hyde