Monday, December 22, 2008

What Will They Do Now?


So i had to do some last minute shopping today and get a gift for my mom. I got her a Walkman, one of those expensive $30 ones because that's all I had left. But now I'm done. I drew a picture on her wrapping paper of Bo being Santa.

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BACK TO THE FANFICTION:

“Can we get going?” Nudge asked.
“We can’t move Max,” Fang said calmly, rubbing his eyes. I’d had to sleep on his lap all night, both of us propped up against a tree.
“I can fly, Fang,” I said angrily.
Iggy walked over to us from the fire. “Let me check her wounds, make sure she can be moved.”
Fang lifted up my shirt a bit so that he could remove the bandages. Iggy inspected the stitches. “She should be fine in a day or two. I think we could fly to a hotel or something, and she could get more rest. Someone would have to carry her.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Fang said, winding the bandage around my waist again.
I was outraged. I was so. Fricking. MAD. “Since when are you two calling the shots?” I asked irritably.
Nudge walked up with a hotdog that had been roasted on a barbeque stick. “Since you’re out for the call,” she said reasonably.
Nothing like cold, hard logic to mess up your perfectly good rant.
“Who’s gonna carry her?” Gazzy asked, blue eyes questioning.

_,-“-,_,-“-,_,-“-,_

Fang’s really happy that he gets to carry you.
I’d never admit it to anybody, but I’m happy that he is.
He leaned in, “Okay, so you have your choice of Super 8 Motel, or Holiday Inn.”
“Hm,” I pretended to think, “I’d have to say Holiday Inn. What about you, what do you think?” I looked up at his dark impassive face.
“I’d have to agree with you on that. Angel says there’s kitchens in each room, and you can get them so they’re adjoining.”
“Oh, well, okay,” I said, then louder to the flock, “ We’re landing behind that Walgreens, okay?”
I got a series of ‘okay’s back.
We landed, and then everyone walked to the hotel but me; I had to be carried.
“Max, we need the card,” Fang said before we went through the front doors.
I squirmed in his impermeable hold. “Just put me down and let me walk, Fang,” I ordered. I was done with asking.
So he did, but I had to lean against him as we all made our way in. There was a guy at the front desk, looking at me like candy.
Eraser? Not likely. Freakshow? More than likely.
“Three rooms with two single beds each, please,” I said, holding out the Max Card.
The guy took it, but when he examined the computer for rooms, he said, “We only have two with separate beds, and one with a queen.”
I looked at Fang, who shrugged. “I guess we’ll take those, then,” he said.
I nodded at the receptionist. He scanned the card and wrote something down on a scrap of paper, then handed them back to me along with the keys.
I smiled and said ‘thank you’. Fang swooped down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, giving the receptionist a hard-as-death look.
“I’m rooming with Iggy!” the Gasman declaired, grabbing one of the room keys for the single bed rooms and taking off.
Angel and Nudge locked arms, and Angel nimbly grabbed the single suite key, leaving me and Fang together with the keys for the queen suite.
I looked at him and said, “You get the floor.”
He took the keys from me and unlocked the door to our room and set me on the bed. It was kinda late, so the kids soon came in to stack fists with us. Then we all said goodnight and the kids disappeared.
I pulled off my sweatshirt and got under the covers, fully expecting Fang to grab the blanket on the end of the bed and a pillow, and settle down on the floor.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he told me.
“Okay,” I replied, settling down.
And then I was asleep.

6 comments:

Kristina said...

good!! write more!!!!

Bluemaster said...

and who says girls cant be preverted...xD

Cabbie said...

Oh my gosh, it is so good. I think I shall perish if you don't write more as soon as you are physically able.
Just a note: did Iggy inspect the wound? Is he blind?
~Always~

Steph said...

HOW WAS THAT PERVERTED?? Jeez, Micheal, do you ever read fanfiction?

Oh, and Iggy inspects wounds with his ever-so-sensitive fingers.

Steph said...

You see, Michael, when you said you could handle the faxness, i took you seriously. And now apparently you can't. What is with that?

ruby said...

very nice!