Author's Notes: After 83 stories on this site I'm finally going to try something I've never done for a fanfic before: first person POV narrative! I've never done it before because the format is limiting, but for this particular story I wanted something that felt more personal and intimate. I know doing another Grubber story after finishing one off might seem weird, but I feel like there's another story I can tell with this character, and to be honest I just really like how the Gangreen Gang play off each other. "Smelling Flowers" is a journal format story, so some chapters might be short while others are long, just like a real journal. Hopefully you guys enjoy this new story. I have a feeling I'll enjoy writing it :)

Day 1

Here I stand, once again backed against a wall facing a camera ready to take my picture. I'm used to this sort of thing. Being a member of the Gangreen Gang, I am very well acquainted with having my mugshot taken by the Townsville police department. This time however the camera is not here to condemn me, but rather to mark my progress for a clinical trial that will either do absolutely nothing or else change my life forever. And to think, it all started with a tornado and a stroke of chance.

My name is Grubber J. Gribberish, and this is my written report for Nu U Medical Labs.

It all started on a stormy day in the city dump, where my cohorts and I reside. You've probably heard of us. In Townsville my friends and I are affectionately known as the Gangreen Gang. We are a motley bunch of teenagers with nothing better to do than kill time, kill bugs, and terrorize small children when the weather permits. The only thing uniting us is our less than ideal circumstances and our putrid green skin. I only mention this because I'm still surprised the lab chose me for this experiment. I am, after all, a wanted felon. Oh well, I suppose the white coats took one look at my face and decided they wanted a challenge.

On this particular day we weren't really doing anything important. It was nasty weather outside and the only one that seemed excited at the prospect was Big Billy. He wanted to run around in the rain and splash around the puddles like a jackanape. Ace, our leader, said no. That made Billy sad, and we all got to hear about it.

You see, Big Billy, despite being the largest and strongest member of our gang, is actually rather childlike in his demeanor. He's highly emotional and easily offended, so when Ace told him he wouldn't be allowed to go outside and play in the rain Billy started sobbing uncontrollably, which grated on the ears of everyone else involved.

Turns out that wasn't the only waterworks we were in for. The wind was blowing hard, and there was a tornado warning for Townsville. It was a warning we could do nothing about, so we ignored it. That would prove to be a mistake on our part, as while Billy was crying the tornado made its way to the dump.

I still remember the sound. It sounded like a missile was roaring through the air, and since we live in the Powerpuff capital of the world a few of us wondered if that was what was happening. It wasn't a missile however, obviously.

We felt the wind through the worm eaten holes in our shack before we saw anything. We technically don't have glass windows, but rather large holes where windows should be, so you can imagine what happened next.

The tornado came through and tore the roof of the shack right off! We all started blowing away, but then Ace grabbed onto Arturo, Snake grabbed onto Ace, I grabbed onto Snake, and Big Billy grabbed onto all of us and anchored us to the ground. Fortunately Billy was heavy enough to not blow away.

It took only a moment for the tornado to pass, but the damage it left behind was staggering. Our shack, which admittedly was poorly constructed, was completely destroyed. There was nothing left but splinters, and for a moment or two all we could do was stare at the empty space where our home used to be. Finally however, the silence was broken by our dear leader.

"Well...you guys think the arcade's still standin'?"

Yes, I'm dead serious. Instead of trying to rebuild our shack, the five of us went to the arcade. To be fair, none of us wanted to think about the future after instantly losing everything. We wanted our minds to be soothed by glittering lights and the deafening noises of machines and victory music. I got the third highest score in the city on Bloody Car Chase II, and we stole three pizzas from the kitchen.

We were fine for a while, but then that night we realized we had nowhere to go. We did what most people do in this situation, and found a discreet place in the park to sleep.

The next morning, with each of us covered in grass stains and aching in every muscle, Ace decided that we should try to rebuild our shack.

"But how are we sssupossed to do that?" Snake asked, "We don't have any ssssupliesss."

This pessimistic question was met with an uppercut to the nose from Ace. He does that a lot, punches Snake when Snake busts his chops. Hm, that actually sounds ironic. Metaphorical busted chops and literal busted chops. Wait, where was I? Oh, right. The shack.

"We'll get what we need," Ace declared, "We just need money to buy the stuff."

"Uh, but boss," Billy chimed in, "How do we get money?"

"We gonna sssteal it?" Snake asked almost eagerly.

"Maybe," Ace shrugged, "We'll figure somethin' out."

For most of the day we didn't actually "figure" anything out. We hung around the park until we saw some kids playing in the sandbox, and then we harassed the whiny little tykes because we were bored. What? You expect me to feel bad about that? Have you seen kids today? They're fat, spoiled, and have parents that indulge their every whim. My comrades and I slept in the park the previous night. Those kids will go home to fluffy blankets and warm bedrooms. The least they deserve to balance out the universe is a few wedgies and some sand in their faces.

During this bout of impish fun Snake held a kid upside down and some loose change fell out of his pockets. At first nobody noticed, but after a minute Snake looked down at the coins and put two and two together. Of course the answer he came up with was five, but he tried.

"Hey Accce!" Snake shouted, "Thiss kid dropped moneys! Can we fix the shack with thisss?"

Ace counted out the money, and it was 84 cents.

"Nah, I don't think so, but it's a good start," Ace nodded approvingly before pocketing the stolen change.

Of course we knew that there weren't enough wimpy brats on the playground to get us the money we needed, but that didn't stop us from shaking down every kid we came across that day. I will admit it was especially easy for me to rob those brats, since my hideous face alone is enough to scare kids into doing what I want.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention this part! Arturo and I got bored with merely shaking the kids down after a while, so we decided to reenact that scene from 'A Bug's Life' with the grasshoppers. It was hilarious! We found these little girls playing by a tree, and Arturo quietly took a jump rope off the ground and tied it to my waist. When we got to the girls, Arturo held the jump rope like a harness leash, and I started snarling and drooling like a rabid dog and hopping up and down like Thumper from the movie. The girls screamed so loud I'm surprised they didn't break something! Pfft! It was especially funny because Arturo was shouting "Help! I'm losing my grip on the monster!" Pfft!

Now that I write it out, I realize none of this was actually pertinent to the report. I apologize. The point is later that day we came across a sign on a lamp post with your contact information on it. The sign read: Suffering from Verida Pigmaplasia? Need help? Sign up for a new drug trial at Nu U Medical Labs. We pay $$.

"Huh, well dat's interestin'," Ace commented rather blandly, "Hey, do yous guys think we can fake dis illness long enough to get the trial money?"

I then explained to Ace that we don't have to fake the illness, since verida pigmaplasia is the disorder that causes our green skin and bodily disfigurement. I'm frankly surprised he didn't already know that.

"So, if we all sign up to take their new drug, then we'd all get paid?" Ace reasoned, "Looks like we just figured out how to rebuild our house."

"But Accce, what if there are sssside effectsss?" Snake asked nervously, "What if sssomething important fallsss off or rotss or sssomething?"

This objection was of course met with a punch to the face. You'll notice this is a running theme in their interactions.

Of course you illustrious scientists know what happened next. Since you only needed one subject and there were five of us, we had to decide as a group which one of us would undergo the dangerous experimental testing. Since we are young men of class and sophistication, we convened a panel and after much discussion we came to the most logical conclusion for who should be your new test subject.

"Rock paper scissors!"

Okay, maybe it wasn't that much of a refined discussion. We probably played ten rounds to be honest. Most of us kept picking rock. I picked paper when I realized everyone else was picking rock, but then they all picked scissors! Who picks scissors when they're anticipating rock?!

Well, regardless of the improbability of it all, I was deemed the loser and therefore am now in your hopefully capable hands. I'm honestly surprised you would accept me into your trial given the rate of deterioration of my body and skeletal structure. I don't actually have any confidence that you'll be able to cure me. Verida pigmaplasia is a rare genetic condition that Townsville scientists have spent many years studying, and I doubt that your snake oil will succeed where others have failed.

I understand, probably more than the rest of my gang, that we have no future. Verida pigmaplasia does more than merely make skin green. It warps the bones, it causes autoimmune and digestive problems, and it often leads to premature death. Why should I or the rest of my gang try to be anything other than what we are when this is the height of what our lives can be?

Oh well. Such is life, I suppose. I have had my 'before' picture taken today, and by this time next month I hope the rate of deterioration has slowed down, but I doubt it will. Thank you for this opportunity nonetheless. Even if I am not cured at least the money I am being paid will repair our shack.

Grubber J. Gribberish