Traffic in the Attic

How Weird Can It Be?

"I just think Wiggles is a poor choice for a name," said Steve. "They don't so much wiggle. They hop and dance and sing about fruit salad a lot, but they never wiggled. Not even once. They just do this little pointy hand gesture thing that I think sends kids a bad message. It looks like they're goin' 'bang bang' using their fingers like a gun, over and over and over..."

Dylan looked up from the Book of Shadows. "It's amazing!" he said snidely. "The Wiggles were responsible for the rise in playground violence all along... In fact, why don't we add that to the to-do list! We'll put it right up at the top." He then pretended to write, "Vanquish ... the Wiggles."

"Now wait just a minute!" said Steve. "The Thundercats have to shoulder some of the blame. They may say they're for the greater good but all I see is a bunch o' slicin' and roarin' and that whole 'Ho!' yellin' thingy. There's a source of noise pollution right there!"

"Okay, GOOD!" Dylan exclaimed. "So then, so far we're targeting the Wiggles AND the Thundercats... Anybody else? He-Man maybe?"

"You know what I don't get?" said Shane, folding his arms, "Steve understands Kant's ethics, Einstein's theory of relativity, and advanced quantum physics, but for some odd reason he can't seem to wrap his head around why the Wiggles are called the Wiggles."

"Ya know what else?" Steve continued, "They want ya to think that the yellow one is the head Wiggle, but I don't buy it. Anyone can see that the blue one's the brains behind the operation."

Tristan asked, "Why the blue one?"

Shane interjected, "What the hell do you call yourself doin'?"

Tristan innocently replied, "I just asked a question. Jeez!

Dylan snapped, "Well don't, then! You'll just encourage him!"

Tristan returned, "All I did was ask about the blue Wiggle. Seems harmless enough to me."

"I see," Dylan patronized. "Do you also put fires out with lighter fluid? Because that's the level of deductive reasoning you're working with at the moment."

Tristan crinkled his forehead. "How did we go from the Wiggles to deductive reasoning?" he asked as he wondered. "Now my head hurts."

"You guys know how this works," said Wyatt. "Steve just has to talk his way through it and get it out of his system... It has to end sometime."

"Can I get that in writing?" asked Dylan intolerantly.

"Maybe we'll learn something," said Tristan.

"Uh huh." said Dylan. "Thanks for playing. Pick up your parting gifts on the way out."

"It could happen!" said Tristan.

Dylan shot him an exhausted glare.

"I know I know... But it could."

"Really?" Dylan asked snidely. "I can just see it now!"

Wyatt humored him. "Yeah, what's that?"

"Hell freezing over on the 11 o'clock news!"

"Oh God, Dylan..." exclaimed Wyatt, having tired of Dylan's attitude. "Give it a re-"

"Just picture it!" said Dylan. "CNN would get the exclusive interview with Satan. 'It just came outta nowhere' he said. 'I mean we'd talked about installing an ice skating rink, but we never thought it'd ever happen'."

"One of the Wiggles is Asian," said Steve, picking up where he'd left off, "but their last names are all 'Wiggle'. How do ya suppose that happened? I mean, I'm all for adoption but you'd think they'd sing about that instead of about drinking enough water. Don't get me wrong, both are worthy of existing within the context of a song, but..." He paused. "Ooh! I've got it! They can sing about an adopted kid drinking water! It's perfect!"

Dylan turned towards Tristan, "Oh look! We're learning!"

"I never said it'd be something we wanted to know," said Tristan, "I just said we might learn something."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Okay Tris, you are reeeally reaching right now."

In an effort to get Dylan off of Tristan's back, Wyatt put the focus back on Steve. "It must be exhausting living in that head of yours,"

Steve sighed. "Well, I might not be in it too much longer. If they keep raisin' the rent, I'm gonna have to move out."

"Move where?" asked Tristan, "To another body?"

Steve took a good look at Tristan, from top to bottom. "Ya know, you're a mighty nice lookin' fella. How much is the cost of rent in your head?"

"Uh..." Tristan stumbled, having no idea how to answer the question.

"I just have to know," said Wyatt. "Why are they raising the rent in your head?"

Steve scoffed condescendingly. "Well it's obviously because I keep getting better lookin' every year."

Dylan said flatly, "Ya know, you have a very interesting relationship with reality."

"Reality?" Steve echoed. "Yeah, Reality and me, we dated for a little while, then we broke up, but then she came crawling back to me. She said she just couldn't bear for us to be apart."

Dylan replied, "I was thinking more along the lines of abandonment issues."

Steve sighed dramatically. "Oh, we're not a perfect match, don't get me wrong. Both Reality and me, we realize that we've got quite a few little hurdles to jump over in this little obstacle course called 'life', but we talked about it and we're both committed to making it work."

Dylan snidely added, "Yeah, and about the wedding... Sorry, I can't make it. I'm gonna be outta town that decade."

Steve pretended to be offended. "Is that so?" he said. "Well then you can just go suck a lemon!"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh yeah, I said it!" returned Steve. "Start singin' your citrus swan song, you snide sack of sarcasm you."

"Bite me." snapped Dylan.

"Excuse me, Captain?" Steve said to Wyatt. "Sounds like a certain spontaneous spell-caster's in line for an attitude overhaul."

Dylan groaned at the comment.

Wyatt raised his hands in surrender. "Steve, you're preachin' to the choir here."

Steve replied, "See, I've never understood that metaphor."

Dylan said sharply, "There's a real shocker!"

"Well, I mean," Steve began, "if you're a preacher and your church has a choir, of course you're preaching to the choir! Why wouldn't you preach to the choir? Am I not supposed to preach to the choir?"

Wyatt said wearily, "Steve, it's really late, and..."

"I mean," Steve went on, "if I'm standin' up there just a preachin' away, wouldn't I be preachin' to the choir already? Am I punishing the choir when I don't preach to 'em?"

"No," clipped Dylan, "You're punishing us!"

"Did the choir do something wrong?" Steve continued.

Tristan began, "I've always thought it meant that..."

Shane cut him off, "And there you go again!"

"Why're you barking at me?" asked Tristan. "Steve just wanted to know..."

Shane interrupted, "When he cares about somethin' that makes an ounce of sense, then you can answer him."

Dylan scolded, "What's your problem?"

Shane defensively replied, "My problem, is that Whitelighter Barbie here can't figure out when to keep his mouth shut."

(Something's not right.) Wyatt thought to himself. (We've had our off periods before but I can't get past the feeling that something is very, very wrong.)

Steve kept going. "Maybe the choir missed so many rehearsals that it seems like I hardly know 'em... so I don't usually preach to them, but when I do..."

Tristan interrupted, "But the choir is usually behind the pulpi-"

Shane hawkeyed Tristan. "Should I sign? What part of..."

But Steve still went on. "Wouldn't it be rude to not preach to the choir? So when you tell me that I'm preachin' to the choir, are you telling me that I'm a bad preacher because I usually don't? Like, I'm finally doing something right for a change? 'Cause if that is in fact the case, I take offense to that statement and would much appreciate it if you would kindly refrain from using it again."

Wyatt put his right hand over his heart. "Okay then. I, Wyatt Matthew Halliwell do hereby pledge to refrain fr-"

"I've got it!" Steve exclaimed. "What if I'm recruiting for the choir? Get it? It make's perfect sense! 'Cause if you're already in the choir it'd be silly to keep tryin' to recruit you if you're..."

Accepting defeat, Wyatt rested his head on Tristan's shoulder. "Wake me up when he's done, would ya?"

Shane glared at Steve, saying, "Wyatt, gimme that handkerchief! I think I just found the perfect use for it?"

Steve snapped out of his rant, "Wh- wh- why? Wh- wh- what are you getting a handkerchief for?"

Shane threatened, "Because I'm gonna stuff it in that overworked mouth of yours, that's what for."

Wyatt quickly raised his head, looking at Shane with cautious curiosity?

"What?" Shane snapped loudly.

When Wyatt remained silent, Shane started to look around. He found the same questioning expression on all the other faces. "WHAT?" he repeated, louder this time.

"Why don't you tell us?" said Dylan.

Shane scoffed, "Tell you what?" he asked impatiently.

Dylan strongly replied, "Tell us why you've got kidnapping on the brain tonight?"

Shane flinched subtly, feeling suddenly vulnerable and unusually self-conscious.

"I'm with Dylan," said Wyatt. "What is with you tonight?"

Shane tossed it off, "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"That's a lie and you know it," returned Wyatt, more forcefully than he'd intended.

Shane scowled but kept silent, resenting that he'd been cornered.

"I think we're all a little off tonight," said Tristan, trying to help Shane out of the hot seat. "Could that be it?"

Tristan's approach opened the door for Shane to admit, "Beat's the hell outta me... I don't know what it is about tonight, but I feel like I'm losin' it... and fast."

Wyatt, sounding calmer now, asked, "So, what are you saying?"

(I can't believe I'm really gonna say this) "I'm sayin' that somebody needs to orb my ass to either the predator pound or the pervert penitentiary, and pronto!"

"Still waiting for the reason." Wyatt persisted.

The little boy in Shane was beginning to take over. "I don't wanna say," he mumbled childishly.

"You have to," Tristan said lightly. "Otherwise, what're we gonna tell the predator pound?"

"Yeah," said Dylan, "they don't let just anyone in there ya know... You've gotta be certifiably super psycho."

Steve added, "Plus, I'm pretty positive that the particular people permitting passage into the pervert penitentiary are painstakingly prudent pertaining to protocol."

Shane sighed forcefully. "Fine.. it's just I'm having some weird... urges." (Shut up, Shane.)

"These urges," Steve began, since no one else knew what to say, "Exactly how would you classify them?"

"Seriously Shane," said Wyatt. "After all we've seen, how weird can it be?"

(Pretty damn weird) Shane then said under his breath, "I've been wantin' to kidnap somebody all night long."

"Say again?" said Dylan.

"Oh, come on!" Shane said defensively. "Don't make me repeat it!"

All eyes were on Shane. (I swear, they just love seein' me squirm.) "I've had the urge to kid-nap somebody all night long." (Somebody kill me.)

As all the others tried not to laugh, Steve said nonchalantly, "Dylan, you're the smallest. We need to get you some place safe."

(Please kill me.)

"I dunno," Dylan said dryly, "Tristan has 'easy prey' written all over him."

Tristan frowned. "It's these darn dimples."

(Don't care how... Just put me outta my misery.)

Dylan was determined to milk the opportunity to tease Shane for all it was worth. "So then..." he said, "Suppose we were to entertain your little freakishly perverted fantasy..."

"Watch it, Derelyn," Shane threatened darkly, "this is your first and last warning."

"Or what?" Dylan returned. "What are you gonna do? Kidnap m-?"

Shane looked sternly at Steve. "Rope!" he demanded.

Steve must've been anticipating Shane's next move, because before he'd gotten the word out, blue ropes had wrapped around Dylan's ankles and thighs, and another blue rope had pulled his wrists behind his back and tied them together.

"WHAT the?" Dylan lost his balance and began to fall forward, conveniently in Shane's direction.

Shane lunged toward Dylan's waistline as the younger man toppled forward. Grabbing him by the legs, Shane threw him over his shoulder, stood up, and carried him like a sack of potatoes towards the attic door.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dylan protested.

Shane chuckled mischievously. "Following your suggestion," he said. "Say fellas, where's the closest river? I think it's time hippie boy slept with the fishes."

Steve casually remarked, "There's always the water fountain!"

Dylan forcefully returned. "What the Hell, Steve?"

"Niiice!" Shane replied. "Ready to take a little swim in Pretty Boy's fountain, little man?"

"I swear to God," Dylan exclaimed. "As soon as I get outta this, I'm gonna light a fire under all of your asses... Literally!"

Wyatt felt like he should be doing something to stop the commotion, but he figured that, One: Dylan had it coming, and Two: It was too funny not to watch.

Shane opened the attic door, only to find his mother coming toward them in her nightgown.

"MOM?" Shane was as embarrassed as he'd ever been. There he was, carrying Dylan over his shoulder, as Wyatt, Steve, and Tristan followed behind them.

Piper stopped in her tracks. "Now there's somethin' ya don't see everyday."