Back from my hiatus. I'll do my best to crank out some weekly updates from now on.

Professor Layton doesn't belong to me. But I do own a potato. A special potato.

After a twenty-minute telephone conversation with the local therapist, Luke and Flora decided to drag the professor outside to their beloved Laytonmobile.

"Why is it called the Laytonmobile?" Flora asked with a curious look in her eyes.

"It was handmade," Luke snapped at her, rolling his eyes as he attempted to lift the professor to his feet.

"Well, don't you think it sounds an awful lot like the Batmobile?" the girl giggled.

"Shut up. You sound an awful lot like you've inhaled 10 gallons too many of novacaine," Luke growled.

"I-I'm sorry!" Flora began to sob, "I was only joking, please don't beat me! I didn't mean to be disrespectful!"

"Yeah, well I didn't mean to drug your tea the morning we left St. Mystere."

"Is that why I fell asleep?" Flora yelled. But it was too late, for Layton's apprentice had already stepped into the car and slammed the door.

And apparently, the Laytonmobie is scream-proof.

Handy, Luke thought with a smile.

Scene-change, Amigos!

Apparently, Hershel's top hat needed its own spot in the passenger seat. Layton was lain out across the back seat, because apparently, his current state of unconsciousness didn't allow him to sit upright. Apparently, Luke was able to drive. So apparently Flora had to sit on the roof of the automobile. Apparently, this angered Flora a great deal. And apparently, the author needs a few synonyms for apparently.

"Luke, are you sure this is safe?" Flora asked, clinging for dear life to the Laytonmobile's rounded roof.

"No," Luke answered, his voice audible through the open window.

"I miss my old town. I miss those obnoxiously tall buildings, and that moat around my house, that apparently Claudia managed to jump across, even though the professor and everybody else had to boat across, and I even miss Bruno, that potential rapist, even if that sack of his could easily contain a small child, and I miss-"

Suddenly, Luke "Accidentaly" hit a speed bump, going 80 miles an hour, shaking poor Flora up quite a bit.

"YOU ZANY FOOL!" She shrieked, "I DON'T GIVE A FLYING HINT COIN ABOUT THAT IDIOTIC HAT, I'M COMING IN, YOU SIMPLETON!"

"Hey, quiet down, whatshername! I need to drive!"

Flora swung herself through the open window, kicking Luke in the face, and then sat down on top of the precious top hat that contained gobs of sentimental value and years of precious memories that could never be replaced, because she didn't really care if her bum smashed it into the old-smelling seat cushions.

"I hate you so much," Luke grumbled, burying his face into the wheel. The horn went off, and didn't show any signs of stopping, but they didn't mind, even if the surrounding traffic was getting frustrated and drivers were swearing, making quite vulgar hand signals, and phoning the police.

"Luke, you should always be kind to a lady. That's what a gentlemen does!" Flora reminded.

"Shut up."

Hint coins to anyone who finds me some synonyms for "Apparently"!