Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing; probably won't any time in the forseeable future.

Author's Note: This is my little collection of short Hellsing humor-fics (usually 1000 words or less). I probably won't update it on a regular basis; just whenever I get a good (yet short) idea.

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A Bite To Eat

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Integra Wingates Hellsing had been waiting all day for this.

It had been another busy day running the Hellsing Organization, the government-sponsored group that protected England from supernatural forces that would do it harm. Last night had been particularly busy; a rogue vampire was causing trouble (as usual), but the situation had become nightmarish when one of the vampire's ghouls had invaded a SHOPPING MALL, of all places. The situation was contained, but it had meant hours and hours of phone calls, apologies, and general "patching up the red tape" with the bureaucrats.

Now, finally, she was through with it for the day. With a tired smile, she walked into her favorite French restaurant, slid into her favorite chair, and ordered her food.

"Good Lord," she muttered, "it's good to finally be able to relax."

She sat there for a while, enjoying the atmosphere and time off. After about five minutes, the waiter finally started walking over to Ingtegra's booth with her food in hand. Integra had taken her glasses off and placed them on the table, and it was quite dark in that section of the restaurant, but for some reason she thought that something seemed very familiar about the gait of her waiter. Come to think of it, his general appearance reminded her a great deal of...somebody.

"Heh. It seems my job has finally made me crack," she laughed silently, "I've become either senile or paranoid at the tender age of 23. Hahahahaha!"

The waiter politely sat her plate of food on the table, but then did not walk away. He just stood there silently.

"Excuse me," queried Integra, "can I help you?"

For a second, the waiter just stood there. Then, he flashed a rather toothy grin.

"Sir Integra... Your ordeurves... Give me your ordeurves, my master!"

THE END

Heh, heh. I'm sorry for putting you all through that horrible pun, but it couldn't be helped. I conceived this little plot out of boredom and too many Mounds (C.) candy bars. I'm sure somebody out there might find it funny.

(cue Eskimo laughing hysterically in an igloo somewhere in British Columbia)

By the by, I realize that "ordeurves" is not an actual word. It was a somewhat phonetic spelling that I came up with for "hors d'oeuvres", which is French for "appetizers". It took me a good 10 minutes to find the correct spelling in the dictionary (ord-? oer-? heur-? hoer-?), and I figured that if I spelled it that way in the fanfic, everyone would be left scratching their heads and it would be a little less than funny by the time they figured it out. Forgive my butchering of the French language (as if it doesn't butcher itself enough).

Please review!