Disclaimer: Not even Casey is in charge of his world, much less I.

November 14, 2009: Carnivores, and Other Things That Go Bump In the Night

Casey was manning the grill outside of Casa Bartowski. It was a warm fall night, and Ellie had called for a family-only night of burgers and fries. Casey felt touched they had included him. Apparently inducting Woodcombe into the fraternity of the knowing had paid off, at least in the form of juicy dead animal.

Woodcombe was attempting to throw the football at Bartowski. Occasionally Bartowski caught it, more often it bounced off his fingertips. Bartowski would good-naturedly grin at Walker and Ellie, picking it up and throwing a wobbly spiral back.

"Grunt #3," Casey snickered.

Walker caught him. "He's trying, Casey, he's trying," she admonished him.

Woodcombe noticed the exchange between the two agents. "Go long and to the left, Chuck!" He called out, rearing his arm back. "Show your girl you've picked up some skills from Madden '09!" He launched a perfect spiral in the direction of Chuck, as well as Casey and dinner.

In slow motion, Casey watched as Bartowski clumsily dived for the football, smacking into the side of the grill, reaching inside the frame to steady himself against the gas tank. Casey threw his hands and the spatula up in the air as he was showered with an extra powerful flame and the semi-cooked frisbees that were supposed to be his meal.

Apparently inducting Woodcombe into the fraternity of the knowing was a bad idea, because it meant Casey was now smoking from the eyebrows and his new khakis had oily brown hamburger accents.

"Grunt #14," he snorted, nostrils flaring as he made sure Woodcombe and Bartowski knew their days on this planet were currently numbered and he could count them on one hand.

Ellie came over to "Chuck, go get the aloe and some gauze, please. I think John will be fine, although you may owe him a new pair of pants," she said ruefully, examining his face. "Similar to a sunburn, and we'll get you cleaned up in no time."

Chuck skittered away on Ellie's orders and ran to his room to grab the aloe off of his desk. Lying next to it was his list. He scribbled the latest additions to his collection, now to be titled "John Casey: A Study in Khaki." He picked up the aloe and headed into the bathroom to grab some gauze.

Casey reassured Ellie that he would be fine and headed indoors, hoping for a mirror to inspect the damage. He detoured into The Idiot's room, hoping to install some fear into Bartowski.

"Chuck?" Casey called out into the bedroom. Where was he? A quick visual survey of the room showed recent disturbances. A rumpled piece of paper caught his eye. He picked up the list and quickly scanned the room for any possible intruders.

Casey surveyed the list. "Hmmrph?" It was a list of his grunts, as composed by The Moron. Admittedly, some were pretty accurate. However, was that Walker's handwriting?

Grunt #3: Amusement, with a dash of LaDaninian-Tomlinson-is-not-shaking-in-his-cleats-over-this-one

Grunt #14: Pain, with a dash of Why-didn't-my-training-include-eyebrow-rejuvenation?

He paused, and then picked up a pen.

Grunt #19a: Cognizance, with a dash of I've-Got-Your-Back

Grunt #19b: Notice, with a dash of And-your-ass-is-mine!