Disclaimer: I'm going to pick a random story, in a random catagory on this site by a random person, and steal their disclaimer...
"Not mine, but I wouldn't mind keeping them."
A/N: Howdy folks! ...haha, that sounds like the beginning of a fifties radio show. Okay, so here is another one shot. It's a shorter one, though it was also a challenge that a friend gave me. Had to be 500 words and have the sentence 'I bet if the sky was purple then the ground would be yellow' in it. I took the challenge, and ran! By the way, all of you lovely readers, feel free to give me challenges like that; word count, a sentence that has to be in it... any type of stipulations. They're fun!
This story is pretty much self explanitory, and something that entertained me. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!
Title: The Theories of Dean Winchester
Genre: Humor and angst... that's right... humor AND angst.
Summary: Dean contimplates certain aspects of life while waiting for his brother to wake up in the hospital.
The Theories of Dean Winchester
One. If Jesus were around today he would change the water into coffee, not wine.
"Remember back in San Antonio when that crappy roadside place only had one cup of coffee left?" Dean smirked at the memory, "I thought you were going to deck me upside the head when I snatched it up. Though I'm pretty sure you knew I would have decked you if you tried to take it."
Sam's body remained motionless as the monitors hummed.
"Don't worry. It was the worst cup of coffee ever."
Two. The inventor of the wheel was an evil sadist.
"Wasn't it that same night too that the fricken tire blew out?" a small laugh escaped Dean, "It was the first time my baby ever lost a wheel, and I asked you if you knew how to change it. You swore up and down that you'd never done it before, and you didn't know how, and asked if I could show you."
Dean paused as he looked down at his little brother in the sterile hospital room before he continued in a soft voice.
"Not even ten minutes after we got back onto the road did you tell me you knew how all along."
Three. Mother Nature is permanently PMSing.
"How many times did we fricken get caught in the rain?" Dean sighed, "No matter what we wanted the weather to be like, it would be the opposite. That one spirit only came out in the rain, and it was sunny for eleven days straight. Then that snow storm that came in the middle of May. I bet if the sky was purple then the ground would be yellow just to mess up a hunt."
Dean continued to talk. The doctor said anything could wake his brother.
Four. The severity of the injury is directly proportional to how close you are to a doctor.
"You fell off that two story roof that one time and didn't even have a bruise on you," Dean frowned, "I checked you from head to foot. Of course so did the two doctors that were there watching you heroically save those kids from the fire in the house. Nothing. Two weeks later wasn't it that your clumsy ass tripped down two stairs and you broke your arm? And to boot we were three hours away from the nearest hospital, and by the time we got there your arm was the size of a thick ham."
A silent tear crawled down Dean's face, "…c'mon Sammy."
Five. An otherwise unconscious person will always suddenly regain consciousness when the cool and collected brother shows any kind of sentimental emotion.
"Dean…" Sam's voice whispered out hoarsely.
"Sam!" Dean jumped at the sound, "Hey. Are you ok?"
"Mmhumm," Sam nodded, his head throbbing, "What's going on?"
"Not much," Dean wiped some stray hair off Sam's forehead, "Just testing a few theories."
"Huh?"
"Nothing Sammy," Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, watching his little brother.
The End.