Fang's hiding in the closet, Nudge is duct taped to the wall, Iggy is trapped in the attic, Gazzy is dressed in pink, Angel's painting the house, and Toto's chasing a cat. What happened that caused all this?
Max got sick. It was only supposed to be a stomach bug, lasting maybe a day, but somehow, it stretched out over a month. "The Month of Terror and Barf" the Flock came to call it in later years. It all started on a Friday. The Flock had gone to the movies with Ella.
Chapter One: The Beginning of Terror Started with Jacob's Abs Max P.O.V
"I can't believe you chose Eclipse," I groaned.
It was my own fault for not asking what movie we were going to watch. I had made my bed, and now I had to lie in it. Stupid stupid STUPID! "How could you not love Edward and Bella's eternal undying love?" Ella said, starry eyed.
"Or Jacob's abs!" Nudge giggled.
Rolling my eyes, I followed them into the darkened theatre. When they finally found the "perfect" seats, which turned out to be in the very front, everybody seemed to walk by me until I was at the very end of the row. I sat down huffily. It's called manners! Excuse me or pardon me's would be nice. I know I'm not a stickler for politeness, but a little consideration would be nice.
"Way to start things off in a good move. If I have to sit through this, so do you," Fang said.
"Shut up," I growled.
He'd been majorly annoying lately.
"PMSing much?" Iggy whispered from beside Fang.
I reached over and smacked him across the head.
"OW!" Iggy cried.
Okay, maybe it was a bit harder than a smack.
"Shhhh!" thirty teenage girls scolded him.
Smirking, I sat back in my seat, awaiting the torture. The lights dimmed, and I settled into her seat for a long period of boredom. -Ignore me! I'm a cooooool line thingy!-
By the middle of the movie, I was surprisingly still alive. She reached for her fourteenth handful of popcorn. While searching through the hot buttery goodness however, the only thing I ended up grabbing was Fang's hand. I dropped it immediatley, face burning from shame. Meanwhile Fang had started laughing up a storm. "SSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!" was the reply.
"You held my hand!" Fang whispered.
"No I didn't!" I hissed.
"Yes you did! 'Cause you looooooove me!" "Shut up!" "Thhiiiiiiss muuuuch!" "Shut up!" I said a little bit too loud.
"Shhhh!" I don't have to tell you who.
While Fang was still snickering smugly, my glare faltered. I began to feel a bit queasy. Then, when I felt stuff climb up my throat, I jumped up and bolted out the theatre doors. Running across the tacky carpet, I ran into the ladies room and threw up barf that came straight from The Excorcist (a/n: That's from James Patterson's Step on A Crack). "Max?" Nudge's worried voice came from behind the closed stall door.
"One second," came my raspy reply. I looked at the graffiti covered stall walls. Megs + Jimmy = 4ever, Taylor SUCKS!, Leslie loves Ryan, etcetera. It was all stupidity or love centered, except for the one above the toilet. Live the life you love,
love the life you love. I rocked back on my heels and considered this as I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. Live the life you love. Love the life you live. How could I do that? With all the crap I dealt with, making sure the flock was okay, food, shelter, safety, and worry, my ulcer was getting strong. How could I live the life I love. "Max?"
"Fang, you shouldn't be in the Ladies washroom. Pervert," I moaned.
"Nudge sent me in. She was worried. You okay?" he asked.
"No," I snapped.
"Can you open the door?" "No."
"Open it."
"No."
"Open it."
"No!"
"Max."
"Fang."
"Max, seriousley, open the door."
Sighing, I opened the door. He came in and crouched beside me. Putting a hand to my forehead, which I hastily swatted away, he proceeded to grab toilet paper and wipe my mouth.
"You barfed up a storm, huh?" he chuckled.
"Shut up Fang."
"C'mon, let's get you home."
Carrying me bridal style, he carried me out of the washroom.
"This is so embarassing! Put me down! I can walk!" I groaned.
"I'm not letting you walk into walls."
"Where's the flock?"
"Finishing their movie."
"Is Mom picking them up?"
"Stop worrying. I got it all sorted," he ordered as he walked passed a family who stared at us funny and into the parking lot.
Relaxing a bit, I leaned my head against him. He took off and we flew into the night. "Y'know, you're getting seriousley heavy," he joked.
I was too nauceous to answer.
"Hey," I could hear the anxiety in his voice, "You okay?"
Shaking my head frantically, he landed in a patch of forest. I crawled to a bush and barfed once again. He held my hair back. "This is sooo gross," I moaned.
"I know," he kissed my forehead.
After soothing me and picking me up again, he flew me home. Maybe Fang wasn't as annoying as I thought.
R&R?
Doom