A/N: Right, so this is going to be one of those obnoxiously long author's notes, so you can skip ahead to the chapter if you'd like.

Anyway, yes, it's true, I've finally updated. I know it took way too long, but in my defense, I was a target for Writer's Block, holiday preparations, computer viruses, and family troubles. It was too much for me to handle in a short amount of time, so I had to push aside this story so I could deal with my life.

Now that I've finally typed and posted this for you guys, I've got some more news: I have no fucking clue where to go from here. I struggled so much writing this chapter because I wasn't sure what to do or how to develop my ideas. Honestly, I really don't think this chapter is very funny, but I have no clue how to improve it. I don't even know what to do or where to go from here, so I'd really appreciate your input, because I'm stuck right now. So, guys and gals, please review and let me know what you think. Even if you think this chapter sucked balls, at least leave me a review and let me know how I can improve. Please?

Oh, and thanks to Sammy for being such a good sport. God knows what else I've got in store for her, and she's still as enthusiastic about this story as she was from the beginning.

Disclaimer: I'm so tired of putting these in my stories, but they're the only way I know of to keep me from deluding myself into thinking I own anything.

"Morning, guys. Sammy, what's on the agenda for today?

Sammy said nothing.

"Sam?"

Sammy glared.

"Uhm… ok then… I guess I'll just have to come up with something by myself…" Becky shuffled over to the table and poured some coffee. Mark leaned toward her.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Oh… she's still mad about the bunny incident…"

Sammy jumped up. "Mad?! MAD?! I'm furious! I can't believe you sedated me! And what's worse, your reviewers fucking liked it! They liked it! What the fuck is wrong—"

"Sammy, you know it's not safe to bad-mouth the reviewers."

"Why the fuck would you write that?! I never did anything to you OR them, except serve as some kind of sick entertainment for some fucking—"

"Sammy, I really suggest you stop bad-mouthing the reviewers… and my story…"

"And why don't they want anything to happen to you?! Why can't you be the one who gets fucked over?!"

"Sammy, the reviewers are unhappy."

"I don't care!"

Sammy stood, cursing and shaking her fist at the ceiling. Becky stepped back. "Uhh… guys, you might want to back away."

Mark, Roger, and Mimi scrambled back.

The room grew hot. The sound of angry chattering filled the room, and words appeared and swirled around Sammy. Her hair whipped around in an unknown wind and the words around her began to spark and crackle. All of a sudden, the words exploded. Sammy's clothes caught on fire and she screamed. Fire swirled around her, burning everything, until, suddenly, she disappeared.

"What was that?" Mimi asked with wide eyes as Roger bent to examine the scorched floor.

"That, my dear Mimi, was the Flames. A Flame is what we call a bad review. They're extremely powerful weapons in the fanfiction world."

"So, what caused… this… to happen?"

"Sammy bad-mouthed the reviewers—a big no-no to us writers. You know that phrase, 'The customer is always right'?"

The three nodded.

"Well, this is pretty much the same concept."

"So… is she… dead?"

"Oh, no, sillies! I love Sammy too much to kill her off!"

(This author would now like to take the time to say: Sammy, please don't hurt me!)

"So… where is she then?"

Becky waved her hand. "Well, the Flames were coming in fast and I knew I had to get her out of there soon, so, with some quick-thinking, I transported her to West Coast Customs."

Roger blinked.

"We're going to cover Crossovers!"

"Huh?"

Becky sighed. "She's in West Coast Customs! She's getting pimped out!"

No, not in that way. Get your minds out of the gutter, people!

"I need the other bohos here right away."

With a 'popping' sound, Joanne appeared, holding a sandwich in her hands. She jumped, startled, and dropped the sandwich. "Damn…" she muttered, "that was my lunch…"

Maureen appeared next, standing sleepily in her pj's. She seemed unsurprised as she made her way to the table to pour a cup of coffee.

Angel appeared in a bright flash of light and sat calmly in the easy-chair. Collins appeared, pants around his ankles, bending down to sit. He screamed, fell over, and struggled to pull his pants back over his knees.

Becky chuckled. "If you need to go to the bathroom, go now."

"That's what I was just trying to do!" Collins screeched before shuffling away to the bathroom.

The bohos waited patiently for Collins to finish his business. A minute passed. Elevator music began to play and Becky glanced at the clock. Another minute. Roger tapped his foot. Two more minutes and Maureen sipped loudly on her coffee. Becky began to sway to the music, humming along softly.

The bathroom door opened and the music stopped.

"Aww…" Becky murmured dejectedly.

Collins made his way over to Angel's easy-chair. The bohemians turned their attention to the girl moping in the center of the room. "Um, what was I saying? Oh yeah. Crossovers."

Hip hop music boomed loudly as a flash of light erupted in the middle of the room. Xzibit and his crew appeared with a confused Sammy.

"Ayo, I'm X, and me and my crew at West Coast Customs have pimped your beta."

Becky squealed in delight and clapped her hands together.

"Aiight, to start this shit off, you remember that tangled mess of hair on the top of this girl's head?"

Becky nodded.

"Well, normally girls like a lot of volume, but we took it down a notch. There's still a little curl, but now it ain't over the top."

Mimi leaned towards Angel. "He sounds kinda gay, don't you think?" Angel snorted.

"Next, we knew you guys needed a place to keep your shit, so," he turned Sammy around, "we installed a storage area that brings a whole new meaning to 'junk in da trunk.'"

A tiny door opened to reveal a storage area in Sammy's… err… "rear." Becky started laughing.

"What?" Collins asked.

"Get it? We keep our shit in Sammy's rear?!"

Blank stares.

"Oh, nevermind. You're hopeless."

"Right, so," X brought everyone's attention back to Sammy, "ya gotta have munchies, so we installed a mini fridge right in Sammy's stomach." Sammy turned around and her stomach opened up to reveal a mini fridge.

"Awesome!" Collins shouted. "Now I've got a place to keep my vodka!"

Everyone stared at Collins. He blinked. "What?"

Becky shook her head.

"Ever wanted people to get out of your fucking way when you're in a crowded place? Not a problem anymore." X pressed a button, and a set of speakers popped up from Sammy's head. X pulled a microphone from Sammy's pocket. "This shit's also good for karaoke."

Maureen grinned and jumped up and down. Joanne smacked her palm against her forehead.

"And the finishing touch; we added some bling fo' yo' girl."

Sammy smiled, revealing a grill.

"Thanks, X!" Becky cried. Xzibit popped her collar, handed over the keys, and disappeared with his crew.

"That was… strange…"

"Meh. It's a crossover. What do you expect?" Becky bounded over to Sammy. "Are you still mad at me?"

Sammy's eye twitched. "I feel… like a science project gone wrong."

"Oh." Becky's face fell. She jotted something down in her notebook and all of the "improvements" the guys at West Coast Customs had made disappeared. "Shame. I really liked the grill."

Sammy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well… I guess I still owe you…"

Sammy glared.

"Don't worry. I promise you'll like it this time."

Three figures appeared in an explosion of bubbles because this author is tired of using flashes of light.

"Oh. My. God." Sammy breathed. She turned to Becky. "I forgive you." Becky grinned proudly.

Before them stood the three doctors of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital: Gregory House, Lisa Cuddy, and James Wilson.

TBC

Review? Feedback is appreciated. Wait... scratch that, feedback is needed. Thanks a bunch.

-Twisted