Typical Sundays
Disclaimers: Okay, if I
owned them, would I be writing fan fiction?
No, probably not. I’d be too
busy.
Warnings: I haven’t decided on any
yet, and I haven’t started writing this, so I really have no idea how it’s
going to turn out, and I’m too lazy to go back and edit this. So whatever happens will happen. Deal with it; I have. And the title, “Typical Sundays,” is a line
from my wonderful friend Ami-Chan. Why
is she my wonderful friend? Because
this perfect stranger provided this title when she randomly IM-ed me one
day. I still have no idea who she
really is, but thanks go to her anyways!
And I’ve been reading way too many Terry Pratchet’s and Douglas
Adams’ books. You can tell! (They wrote the Discworld series and
the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series, respectively, by they way.)
---
I need to go to the bathroom, Duo realized suddenly on a
bright Sunday afternoon where the sun pelted down on the windows and the roof
giggled aloud with every breath of wind.
I need to go really bad.
As he looked around the room, his heart sank into a place in the
vicinity of his gut. Or perhaps his
bladder, by the feel of it. Getting
locked in the attic of the ever-reliable safe house when everyone else was on a
mission was probably not the smartest thing he had ever done in his
life. *
And how, one might ask, did our young hero manage to
lock himself in the attic of the ever-reliable safe house on one of the few
days that all of the others were away on missions?
Quite simply, he was trying to find a cookbook that
would explain how he could make a decent omelet in less than thirteen steps and
had remembered a box of books that Quatre had stored up in the attic until
further notice implied that someone somewhere in the ever-reliable safe house
needed them. Ironically, just before
the attic door of the ever-reliable safe house had slammed and locked itself
shut, he had found the book he was looking for: Cooking Omelets In Less Than
Thirteen Steps (For Dummies!).
However, after being locked in the attic of the ever-reliable safe house
for nearly three hours, Duo had lost his craving for an omelet he could make in
less than thirteen steps and was now wishing he had not had a sudden craving
for omelets that he could make in less than thirteen steps in the first place
and that he was now safely lodged in one of the ever-reliable safe houses
bathrooms, where he could relieve his bladder and then order a pizza.
Pizza. Duo
looked around for the box of books he had abandoned earlier and quickly
realized that he was sitting on it.
Well, perhaps sitting was not technically the correct word. Squirming would probably be a much better
fit, and yet that involved sitting, in an odd way that Duo really did not care
to delve into at this particular moment in time. He squirmed his way off of the box and peered in, looking for a
book that would tell him how to make a homemade latrine out of materials he
could find in the attic. One titled Making
a Homemade Latrine Using Materials You Can Find In Your Attic (For Dummies!),
** perhaps. However, much to Duo’s
great disappointment, no such book could be found in the box that Quatre had
stored in an attic that contains a door that locks by itself in the
ever-reliable safe house.
Damn, Duo thought as he returned to squirming atop of
the box containing many useless books, and one titled You Could Be An
Outhouse Constructionist In Several Easy Steps.
Duo crossed his legs, trying to rid himself of the
uncomfortable feeling of an over-reactive bladder that was more than ready to
explode on command. Or, if the whim
became it, before the command was even issued.
In fact, possibly before the command was even thought of. However, this did not seem to work, and Duo
was forced to resort back to squirming atop the box.
He swore multiple times, this time aloud, and began
to allow different plans that consisted of escaping and obtaining a bathroom,
or a toilet, or some equivalent thereof, to seep through and into his omelet
crazed and tired mind. After multiple
tries to force the idea of wetting himself out of his mind, he came across, or,
rather, stumbled across a momentary thought about pineapples and cheese. Wondering about the relevancy this thought
had to his predicament, he squirmed yet again and began to frantically look
about his surroundings.
There was a single window by the other wall.
Before he could stop himself with a thought of
embarrassment and possible stupidity, he rushed to the window and pried it open
quickly. Fiddling with his zipper, he
finally managed to find a suitable position and issued the command mentioned
previously in this story. His bladder
obeyed gratefully.
Shutting the window with a relieved sigh, Duo barely
heard the indignant yell coming from below that sounded strangely like Wufei
and the laughter that came from Quatre and, strangely, Heero. There was a high-pitched giggle that later
was found to belong to Trowa, who had managed to sample an overabundance of
laughing gas during this very high-protocol mission to the dentist office.
Cursing mildly, Duo rushed to zip his pants and
cower by the door.
As soon as he leaned against the door, however, it
swung open easily, revealing that it had not been locked after all, as opposed
to Duo’s previous beliefs.
There was a loud shout emitted from Wufei as the
front door to the ever-reliable safe house was thrown open. “Maxwell!
I’m going to kill you!!!”
---
* Duo had done many smarter things than locking
himself in the attic of the ever-reliable safe house, as one can probably guess
rather easily. However, he had also
done many other stupid things that did not consist of locking himself in
the attic room of the ever-reliable safe house on a bright Sunday afternoon
when nobody else was home. Locking
himself in the attic, however, had so far decided to take the cake. For that matter, it had gone a long way
beyond taking the cake. It had grabbed
the cake, eaten a piece, and ran for dear life before some poor, small child
could realize their birthday had been ruined because some stupid event had
taken his cake. And then, to make
matters worse, it won several awards for being “the stupidest event involving an
attic, an ever-reliable safe house, and a bright Sunday when nobody was home”
known to man, boosting it’s ego to the extreme and resulting in several other
birthday cakes being stolen.
** Unfortunately, this book has never and most
likely will never exist. Although many
have come to the conclusion that the “For Dummies” books have covered virtually
every topic that could possibly be formed into existence, the authoress has
personally checked AmazonBooks.com or some equivalent thereof and found no such
“For Dummies” book with the topic of making homemade latrines using materials
found in a common household attic.
There was, however, a book titled Make a Bathroom in Your Attic (For
Numbskulls!), but the authoress decided that that would go against the chaos
she intended the story to have and neglected to bring the thought to Duo’s
mind. Thus, she has again maimed and
possibly destroyed all rhyme and reason that this story could possibly have. However, it was later discovered by a man
named Galileo, named after the famous astronomer, that rhyme and reason have no
reason (or rhyme) to exist in our realm of reality, and therefore could not be
maimed or possibly destroyed by anyone, including this insane authoress who
seems to be intent on imitating Terry Pratchet to the extreme with such things
as these long, drawn out, and probably off topic footnotes.
---
I’ve been reading way too many Pratchet’s and
Adams. To be quite honest, this is the
first fiction I’ve ever done that is this insane. I blame it on staying up late and being heavily medicated due to
excess amounts of Advil. The date and
time is currently Sunday morning, two-thirty six a.m. Have a nice day. And read
Pratchet and Adams books. They’re good.