Alrighty then. I was going to do something for Christmas, then I realized that my last two christmas specials covered all the bases and I could not think of one novel idea. So, I went back to Jack trying to be a semi-normal teenager and failing miserably. I've had a bit of an odd head canon for a while now that Jack could run fairly well if he had to, he's sure as heck had enough practice escaping the monks, so enjoy what he would so with it if he had to.

Guest: Hey dude, thanks for the review, but no hating. Especially on one of my whachamawhosits. Plus, if you think I'm doing this well, then you've got another thing coming.

Ms Briar: Haha, thanks! :^)

Moonheart13: Thanks! I do try! :^)

Angelic Sakura Blossem: I know. That's just rude. Thanks for the review! :^)

Revolutionarymind: Thanks for the review! And yeah, I kept seeing adds for furbies and I was really confused because those things are the devil incarnate.

Summary: Jack joins track. Unfortunate Antics Ensue.

"Well Matt, it goes like this," he said. Matt had given him that, "Oh god you are so crazy," look again. Matt was the guy he'd initially thought was named Steve from his Halloween party. Matt had become his new friend and Jack was rather grateful for that as Chase took evil probation very seriously. He'd jaywalked once and he'd come home to tigers sitting in his basement. He had three weeks to go and he needed distractions or else he would go back to building killer robots and find his lab trashed. Hanging out with Matt and his friends was a good distraction. As was his current plan.

"I need extracurricular before I apply to colleges. If I can get onto Varsity before I submit my application to MIT, I'll look like a better rounded student, and if I look like a better rounded student, then I have a better chance of getting into the school of my dreams," he finished.

"Yeah, but why am I here?" Matt asked, looking visibly uncomfortable in the gym full of Indoor Track people.

"Because I need a friend to do this with and your athletic fees are paid for the year," Jack replied. The brown haired boy gave an incredulous, borderline barking laugh.

"I played golf. Golf is not track," he said, indicating his displeasure with sweeping hand motions.

"If you're not gonna run, there's shot put," he said, although looking at the lanky boy, shot put might not have been the best option.

"Are you sure it's not too late to back out of this?"

"Yes." He'd actually had to pay the fees, he couldn't hack the databases this time, and he wasn't about to waste that money now. "Now, do you have any idea which events are worth doing?"

"Dude, you're no athlete. You're gonna get your ass handed to you," Matt said, rolling his eyes again. "Are you sure you don't have a better plan?"

"Would you rather do this or indoor lacrosse?"

"Let's see what we can find for events!"

Over the course of the afternoon, Jack managed to fail at hurdles, shot put, high jump, and long jump before he had a chance to do an actual running event. He knew he could run, he'd spent enough time running from the Xiaolin Losers, and he was eager to put his skills to good use. They were having 600M try outs next, this should be interesting.

He stepped into one of the lines, careful not to have to make small talk with the freshmen in front of him. The freshmen were annoying. He'd never been that annoying as a freshman. No, he'd kept to himself, plotting global domination in peace rather than attempting to pass off memes as jokes and annoying the seniors. And he'd never been that short.

What with his mental complaining about the freshmen, he never noticed the five boys in the lanes around him. By the time the people in front of him went, he realized that he was up against the varsity captain, last year's MVP, last year's high points award winner, and two other star athletes. It was only when their qualifier was about to run that he really realized that he had no idea was he was doing. They had three years of experience. Fuck.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," he murmured, attempting to copy their crouches on the start blocks. This was not going to end well. He was going to die of humiliation, at track practice, wearing gym shorts. And somehow, through his panic, he managed to register the sound of the starter's shot and everything became worse.

To his panicked mind, the shot sounded incredibly like Kimiko blowing up one of his Jackbots. Years of conditioning had taught him one thing: run like hell the other way if the bots start to blow up, because the monks are never far behind. And with that, he took off. He was sure he was only screamed a little. Or at least, that's what people would tell him later.

Things were actually going pretty well, given that he hadn't had to run from the monks in the last five weeks. He wasn't in first, but he wasn't in dead last either. However, as he came into the final stretch, he didn't realize that he failed to take into account the Laws of Murphy.

Matt was currently trying shot put. The weight of the ball meant that the scrawny boy had very little control over it. However, Jack also failed to take into account that his new friend was a good deal stronger than he looked in his initial assessment of his shot put prowess. He also failed to account for some genius deciding that shot put stuff would be done in the centre of the track.

With all that taken into account, the facts were these: Jackson Spicer was nearing the end of 600M try outs. Matthew Davis was attempting to throw a shot put. Mr. Davis was incapable of aiming the shot put if his life depended on it. And so, as he whirled and prayed that the shot would land in the proper place, there was no actual chance that it would. In fact, it went about forty degrees to the left of the target area, a safe corner by the wall of the gym with almost no danger of hitting anybody, and instead flew directly into the path of five oncoming athletes and one boy genius.

Twenty minutes later, Jack was being loaded into an ambulance, being told by a very apologetic Matt that, while his other events had been abysmal, the 600M time and the fact that the coaches felt very sorry for him for having his foot broken with a shot put on his first day, he had, in fact, made varsity. Jack on the other hand could only think of the irony of it all. Fighting the monks for domination of the world left him with nothing worse than some cuts, bruises, and burns, whereas one day of track practice had broken his foot.

Still, he had to see the light in the situation. This way he would have an excuse for not continuing with track when his probation was up, and maybe some sympathy points for when he planned out the Extreme Ironing event. And he could build a robot wheelchair. He'd always wanted a robot wheelchair.

So...It turns out that I'm not quite dead. For, in the words of the miracle man, mostly dead is still slightly alive. All dead, well the best you can do for them is go through their pockets and hope for loose change. And hopefully, you choose to give me reviews rather than take my loose change. Or something like that.