I didn't mean to churn out a sequel, honest! It's just
that Ryan gave me an idea too good to pass up on, and I just couldn't
help it! This will be the end, I swear!
Grateful thanks to Ryan Ledgerwood for the idea, and to Maggie the
Cat for reminding me about Bulbasaur. Also millions of thanks to everyone
for their wonderful feedback (love you lots! :) ), and hundreds of
apologies for the bad line-breaks before. Horrible computer, careless
me, bad combination. Forgive me? :)
Never Mess with a Furry Blue Genius
He looked at the contents of the box again.
He took off his glasses, squeaked them clean, then put them back
on. No change.
He rummaged to the bottom of the pile, but it was confirmed. They
were all horribly, identically, repugnantly alike.
Hank had gotten low-fat Twinkies.
Robert Drake, code-named "Iceman," better known as Bobby
when he was running around the mansion, better known as "YOU'RE
DEAD!" when somebody was running after him around the
mansion clutching a butcher's knife ... had gotten Hank low-fat Twinkies.
That was just plain evil. Twinkies were not meant to be low-fat.
They were meant to be sinfully junk-food-ish. They were meant to be
something a mother wouldn't give her child for breakfast on a regular
basis. Stars and garters, if he had wanted something that was
healthy and low-fat, he would have stored carrots in his food cupboard
Of course, that would probably gain him some very odd looks from
the others, seeing a huge furry blue creature munching on a crunchy
orange carrot. Nibbling on it like there was no tomorrow. It would
look like something from the Muppet Show and Bugs Bunny combined.
Bobby would pay for this, of course. It was only natural.
Evidently this was the man's way of getting back at Hank for the
Pokemon wallpaper on Bobby's computer. Bobby had begged Kitty to get
rid of it, but after the last time he'd tricked her into singing "Obladi
Oblada" at the top of her voice when she'd gotten drunk at Harry's,
she was quite satisfied to see him go mad from the "pika pika"
noises emanating from the computer. In fact, she even intensified
it. There was no way Bobby could switch on the computer without being
barraged by the saccharine voices, and worse yet, Kitty had fixed
it so that there was nothing - absolutely nothing - he could
do to alter the display screen or the sounds. He was virtually confronted
by hundreds of grinning Pikachus and scowling Bulbasaurs everytime
he tried to check his e-mail.
Bobby had eventually taken to sleeping on the living room sofa because
of the ensuing nightmares.
Hank closed the box in distaste and shoved it aside. Pity Bobby?
Why no, why should he pity Bobby? The man had gotten him five large
boxes of low-fat Twinkies! He hadn't even had the decency to insert
a few Crunch bars here and there. "You see, they'll last for
a very long time," Bobby had left behind in a note, "so
you might as well snack healthily while you're at it. See what a caring
friend I am?"
Besides, Hank had tasted one, and it was yucky.
He tapped his chin and paced the lab, thinking. What to do, what
The revving sound coming from Bobby's new car outside instantly gave
him the answer.
"Please, Ororo? Just bring him out for the day, take him quite
a good distance away from the mansion. Preferably on something that
would antagonize him ... like plant-shopping."
"Henry, are you implying that my purchasing plants for my greenhouse
"Why, no, Ororo, of course not. It's just that Bobby does. Personally,
I find your quest for the most exquisite flora highly engaging..."
"Henry, really, you and Robert can do whatever you want to each
other, but please leave me out of it -"
"Pleeaaase? That way you can also get back at him for what he
said about your hair."
"...What did he say about my hair?"
"Oh, it's nothing, really, he was just making a light joke.
"What did he say?"
"Well ... just that you should try out some really nice hair
colorants in the shade of mahogany or cornflower. He's of the opinion
that Loreal would be a very good brand to use. He appears to think
that white ... well ... has quite an aging effect on one so young
"...On the other hand, I'm sure Robert would benefit greatly
from accompanying me on a good long plant quest..."
"Mmh ... nggh ... hello, Betsy. Lovely dress. Talk to you later.
"...Hank, why are you carrying an entire car engine?"
"Oh, I'm taking it to Bobby's room. You see, he was a very bad
boy, so this is payback. Mmff ... I have to work fast, however, considering
I only have slightly less than a day to complete the task."
"...Carry on, then."
Bobby Drake was not a very happy man when he finally came home that
evening. In fact, he was thoroughly miserable.
Well, it wasn't exactly possible to be happy when your arms are aching
from carrying so much garden material all day. And everytime he tried
to protest to Ororo, suggesting that maybe a shopping cart - or a
truck - would be useful, she just looked at him very sweetly
and said, "But my dear Robert, my plants require delicate handling.
Surely a man as young and strong as yourself is capable of supplying
that? After all, I am a gentle, aging woman with white hair."
Needless to say, Bobby had kept his mouth shut and proceeded to suffer
Who could've told her that? Definitely the work of Hank. Or Remy.
Or Rogue. Or even Logan -- that Canucklehead could be extremely devious
sometimes, especially whenever his cigars got replaced by trick exploding
ones. Bobby had learned a very valuable lesson the last time he'd
done that. He now gave a yawn and a groan at the same time, stretching
himself and hearing a vertebra pop. What I need now is a good long
rest, he thought wearily as he turned the doorknob, entering his
room. And I don't care if those Pokemons still inhabit my computer,
I want my bed -
His car was in his room.
His car, his brand new car, shiny and intact, gleamed happily at
him as if to say, "Welcome back!"
His bed, in turn, looked extremely rumpled and annoyed that its space
was being crowded by the selfish white Saturn.
Bobby immediately glanced at the doorway, then at the vehicle. No,
definitely not big enough. Even if the car had gone on a seven-month
diet plan, it still wouldn't have fit through the door. Bobby rubbed
his eyes, knocked the car's hood, even pinched himself to see if it
was all an illusion. No such luck.
Just then a tiny note flapped at him from underneath the Saturn's
windshield wiper. At first Bobby thought it was a parking ticket left
over from yesterday, but as he neared it he recognized the writing.
He quickly snatched it up and read the words:
Since it appears that you adore your lovely new vehicle to such
a great extent, I have decided to allow you the pleasure of having
it in your own room. Now you can enjoy such delightful things with
it in the privacy of your own space, to express your love for such
a darling object.
It would be wise to show me your gratitude -- disassembling the
vehicle and then reassembling it in your room is no mean feat, but
luckily, I happen to know which part goes where. Aren't you proud
Your furry blue friend,
P.S. Perhaps this would be unnecessary, but I'd advise that you
be very very nice to all of us in future. How else are you going
to get your Saturn out of the room intact? Unless, of course, you
try disassembling and reassembling it outside yourself, but far
be it from me to imply that you don't know which part goes where...
Bobby put his head in his hands and let out a wail.
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