Biology

Disclaimer: The use of "your mom" jokes in the following chapter are used to insult only Gertrude and her mother. I'm sure, readers, that all of your mothers are not like Gertrude's and are, in fact, wonderful people that only want the very best for you. I apologize for any offense you may have interpreted, and to Queen of Duct Tape for totally ripping off the disclaimer on her Death Eater Files #12. (But it's too darn good and I'm too lazy to make up my own.)

A few weeks after Melody's attempted murder, Gertrude found herself back at home doing nothing, like she usually did. Except for her parents, she hadn't seen anyone, let alone torment.

"Meh." Gertrude croaked from her Scandinavian-imported mattress.

"Gertie? Do you need something? Wanna go get a tattoo?" asked her father.

"Tattoos are itchy. You know how painful gluing them on is." Gertrude explained, completely oblivious to the fact that tattoos are punctures in skin that are filled with ink and are put on by a needle, not glue.

Just then, something red and spiky flew in from outside and shattered Gertrude's window. The piece of paper attatched to it ripped off and fell to the floor.

"Hey, this is a red spiky thing! And a piece of paper!" Gertrude cheered. "Yay! P-A-P-E-R! Yay!" She did her victory dance, which involved hopping around on one foot and giving herself a wedgie. She had done this since she was about four and a half.

As she hopped around, she accidentally stepped on the paper, and then she fell and scratched her face on a piece of glass. "Hey, where's my paper?" she asked herself as she carelessly got up off the floor. A corner of the paper was folded in between her toes. She pulled it out and examined the red scribbles on it.

"Hey, if this is Gertrude… eh, whatever your last name is… meet me over at Professor Chang's place. The dude had a stroke and died, so it's not like anyone's going to be there. Anyway, I got something to show ya. Might help with breaking your pal outta jail.

Catch ya later, babe

Red X"

"X's can't be red. They're a letter of the alphabet." Gertrude said after reading the note. She ran downstairs and out the door.

"Hey, honey, I think Gertrude's going to go get a real job." Gertrude's father said after looking up from a newspaper from last November. "And look! There's a Thanksgiving sale down at Glen's! Let's go!"

"There's a SALE? Wait- don't we own Glen's?" Gertrude's mother asked.

"…Yeah, I think we do. Let's go anyway!" Gertrude's father grabbed his keys and dashed towards the garage.

"I can't run in tennis shoes, dear! They weren't made for running!" Gertrude's mother followed.

It was after sunset when Gertrude made her way to Professor Chang's, even though the drive wasn't very long. She ended up circling Titans Tower about thirty times before she went in the right direction.

When she finally got to the door, a slender guy in a black suit was looking more homicidal than Melody did. His white mask shone in the moonlight, outlining the red X across the bottom of his face. "Hey kid, what took you so long?" he asked coolly, despite the face that his fists were clenched tightly, as if he was going to punch her in the face.

"Eh, lost control of me Hummer." Gertrude shrugged, hoping her fake Scottish accent would throw him off.

It didn't. "Enough with the accent. It's horrible. Anyway, wanna take a peek at what I got?" Red X opened the door to let her in.

"Okay!" Gertrude skipped happily past the stranger, hoping her girly act would throw him off.

It didn't. "Really, this is getting annoying." Red X flipped over her and landed right in front of a huge wooden box. "Now," he explained, "this is the stuff I use to keep my suit activated. It's pretty powerful, so don't mess with it too much. It's called Xinthonium, and it'll-"

"Why are you Red X? Shouldn't you be Red XY?" Gertrude interrupted.

"Huh?"

"Red XY. You're a guy… right?"

"Yes…" Red X replied, his temper slowly rising.

"Well-this is the only thing I remember from high school-since you're a guy, and you have an X chromosome from your mommy, and a Y chromosome from your daddy, and girls only have 2 X chromosomes, you should be called Red XY. Or, if for some reason you have an extra chromosome, you can be Red XYY. Or Red XXY- hey, is that even possible? My biology teacher never talked about it, so I don't remember… he was stupid. He said humans have 46 chromosomes! Isn't that funny?" Gertrude laughed.

"…Humans DO have 46 chromosomes…" Red X glared… sort of. It was hard for Gertrude to tell.

"Oh. Well, I always thought humans had 8 chromosomes. Or was that the number of birthday cakes I can shove down my throat? Cake's good. It's like… spongy…" Gertrude began rambling to herself.

"YOUR MOM IS SPONGY! AND YOU'RE STUPID! I'M NOT GOING TO GIVE YOU ANY XINTHONIUM NOW! Now get back to discussing biology, it's fascinating. You should be a teacher."

"I can't." Gertrude said.

"Why not? You know a lot about genetics."

"I don't know how to fill out a job application. I don't remember my address."

"From what I've heard, I thought you lived there your whole life…right?" Red X asked.

"Yeah, but I still don't know my address. Or my phone number."

"O…kay…" Red X just stared at her.

"Yeeeeeah… so how bout them chromosomes?" Gertrude smiled.

The two of them then spent the rest of the night discussing pedigrees, dominant and recessive alleles, and Gregor Mendel. It was definitely not a productive evening.

"Wow, honey, check out all the stuff I got on sale! This is the best Thanksgiving ever!" Gertrude's father squealed as he tossed his bags into the trunk of their stretch limo.

"Oh, let me call Gertie!" Gertrude's mother took out her cell phone and began dialing. She stopped for a second. "Honey, it's not November. It's the middle of April."

"Oh, SNAP!" Gertrude's father gasped. "Thanksgiving's in April now? Then what's in November?"

"Valentine's Day!" Gertrude's mother cheered and did her victory dance. Unlike Gertrude's, this victory dance involved disco dancing upside down. And usually the subsequent arthritis pain.

"You know, you should try Gertrude's dance. You'll lose about thirty pounds." Gertrude's father suggested.

"Nah, I like being anorexic. Weighing 80 pounds is fun. If only I were taller… then I'd be Super Stick Lady! Yay!" Gertrude's 5'3"mother replied.

"Just get in the car, sweetie. We have to make breakfast in about an hour." Gertrude's parents drove off into the sunrise.