Disclaimer: All characters belong to James Patterson.

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ FANG!

I flipped the pages of the book across my thumb again, my eyes on the mouth of the cave. Max would be here any moment, and we had a serious conversation to have about her mental health.

From my position, crouched at the back of the cavern, in little light, I could still make out the cover of the paperback book in my hands. On it was a teenage boy. His hair came down past his ears; he wore a leather jack, and was somehow supposed to be me. One question. WTH? This guy looked nothing like me. His hair was too light, his face too round, his body to stout and muscular instead of being long, thin, and lean like I was. But then again, this book had some serious problems with my personality as well, which was exactly why I was here to talk to Max.

Okay, so I hadn't told her I needed to talk to her. But I'd disappeared from our house without a word; she'd figure it out, right?

See, the thing was that Max's imagination was starting to freak me out. When she'd first starting writing the "Maximum Ride" series, I'd just thought she was bored. Bored and thirsty for money. That seemed to fit with what happened in The Angel Experiment, School's Out- Forever, and Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports, but by The Final Warning, I'd figured out that something was up. I let her go on and write Max (which she had somehow been convinced was better than the title I suggested "Waterwings"), but after reading Fang, we had some talking to do. Serious talking.

I mean, sure, some of the stuff that happened in the first three books had been a little ridiculous, but the plots had been interesting and she had the characters of the Flock down-pact. No, it was in book four that things started changing.

First of all, for reasons unbeknownst to me, she decided to throw in a romance factor. It was a little awkward for us, because at first the Flock had actually thought it was real. It had taken a significant amount of convincing to prove to them that it wasn't. A romance between Max and me… well, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it. I had. A lot. But it would never work out. The book in my hands was proof of that. No, no matter how much I may like Max, there was no way that was going to happen. I shoved the idea out of my brain.

The second problem came in the form of global warming. The Final Warning felt more like a politician's reasons that global warming was bad. The plot started head downhill, and I laughed every time I got rejected, which was often. Yes, The Final Warning was definitely the start of my increasing worry about Max's sanity.

Waterwi- I mean Max was next. My title was infinitely better, but you can always trust Max to be narcissistic enough to name a book after herself. It was better than book four, but it still showed a side of Max's mental health that I did not want to see. Total (who I never could imagine with wings) falling in love? He's a dog, for god's sake! Max and I growing gills? We aren't part fish! Radiation poisoning causing things that appear to be moving mountains in the ocean? I don't think so. Us working with the Navy? I don't even trust the bagger at the supermarket to put the eggs on top; I highly doubt I would be getting on a Navy sub. Not to mention the romance, or as Max's fans were calling it "Fax," was a little… off I guess is the word I would use. I mean, it was well described and everything, but it just seemed like Max and I were seriously unstable people. Which we probably were. So I guess the romance was okay then. It just felt strange to me, like Max hadn't really known what she was doing.

Oh wait, she doesn't. Okay, that makes me feel better.

And now Fang. Where do I even start on this book? Well, you want to know my main problem with it? I started talking.

I don't talk much, which if you know anything about Maximum Ride, you were perfectly aware of it before I told you. There's a reason that I don't talk much, which Max never really understood, and therefore never mentioned. See, the thing is, if what you're saying isn't important, most people really don't care about it. So my question was, why even say it if people don't care? And so Fang's silence was born. I only speak when I have something profound to say, because honestly, what's the point of saying anything else when no one's listening anyway?

But the list of problems with Fang goes way beyond my suddenly chattering. Dylan? Who the hell was that guy? And although I give Max kudos for the line "passion versus perfection," I did not see it. Dylan was far too flat to be perfect. I mean, it was as though he had no personality, you know? And as for that romantic battle thing, it never happened. Max never really developed the feelings for Dylan, which means that that whole part of the plot just flopped.

By the way, even if Max and I were in a relationship, it would never come between her and the Flock. Never. She loves them all more than she could ever love just me.

I ignored the involuntary anger that built in me at that thought. It was right. Max should love the Flock as a whole more than just me. Obviously, that was the way it was supposed to be.

I cast my eyes around the cave, waiting for Max to show up, skidding pebbles everywhere, including probably my face, and looking ready to kill me, but there was no sign of her yet.

Moving from my crouch, I changed position so that I was leaning against the wall, my knees pulled up to my chest, head back against the hard stone. I looked again at the cover of Fang and was about to return to my reverie when…

"FANG!"

I didn't bother moving, or even responding. Max would find me in a moment.

"Fang, I swear to god I'm going to kill you when I fin-" Max landed nimbly on the ledge of spraying dirt everywhere, including, as predicted, into my eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelled.

I raised my eyebrows at her, waiting for her to chill out. She wasn't done, however, and I was entreated to at least five minutes of "Didn't know where you were, no note, scared out of my wits, yada yada yada."

Finally, Max seemed to be done. She sat down, facing me. "So," she asked, "What's up?"

I rolled my eyes at the stupid question and held up the book. She squinted, identifying the cover. I saw her tense slightly before looking back at me, examining my expression. I'd guess by her face that Max is what I'd like to call 'weirded out.' She spoke again. "What?"

"Picking out your room in the funny farm today at four," I told her.

This time Max rolled her eyes. "You have a problem with my book?"

"Your mental health," I corrected.

"You have a problem with my mental health?" she repeated, looking murderous. "And what exactly is wrong with my mental health?"

I held up the book again, then quickly flipped through it, looking for a certain page. Max glaring at me while I searched, and I turned the pages faster. Finally, I arrived at my destination and handed the book to Max.

She read the page in silence, and my alert level went up to orange. Max, silent? No comprende. Does not happen. It's like Gazzy refusing cupcakes.

"So?" she said. "Angel turns traitor, what's your point?"

"Two things," I said, then fell silent, trying to think of how to put this without getting my butt kicked.

"Well?" Max asked at last.

"One," I replied, speaking slowly, "you already did that. Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports, Angel turns traitor on the kids while you and I are off removing your arm. Two, chapter two of The Angel Experiment, you said you loved Angel more than any of us. Well, where the hell did that go?"

I'm pretty sure that was the longest thing I'd ever said. Max was staring at me, stunned at hearing so many words come out of my mouth.

"Um…"

But I was on a roll now, so I kept talking.

"And where did Nudge and the Gasman go? It was like they didn't even exist for most of the book. And Iggy? Where did his common sense go? He may be blind, but he's smart, just like all of us! And this Dylan character? You ever think of giving him something alone the lines of a personality? And when the hell did I start talking? When you started writing, Max, we gave you just one condition. You had to stick to our personalities. And that went out the window."

My mouth actually hurt from so much usage. But alas, I was finished. Max looked like she was torn between congratulating me on actually knowing how to speak and punching my lights out.

"I did stick to your personalities."

I scoffed at such an obvious lie, but said nothing. Angel had suddenly developed traitorous tendencies, had she? And Nudge didn't have to talk any more, and Gazzy no longer needed to blow things up? And Iggy, he was just following the pack now, instead of thinking for himself. Even Jeb, long since dead, was nothing like what he'd been in life. And Max herself, she was nothing like the book described. Her leadership was much stronger than that, and we all knew it.

"Okay," she agreed, "maybe I did change you guys a little."

I gave her a "you think?" look and my trademark smirk.

"Any other complaints, Mr. Wise-Guy?"

Well, now that you mention it…

"My letter."

"What?" Max looked confused.

"My letter," I repeated.

"Oh, you mean the letter you left for me at the end?"

I nodded. "What the hell?" I asked.

"I needed a finish."

"So I decided to go all self-sacrificing?"

"Yeah, and plus, more fax is always better."

I rolled my eyes again and said nothing more.

"So, we're done?"

"Still checking you into the loony bin."

"I'm leaving," she said, standing up and dusting off her jeans. "Come home if you feel like eating."

"A minute," I replied, standing too. I picked up my laptop and opened it, bringing up the Internet. I found the page I wanted and handed it to Max.

"What's this?"

"Sixth book," I said, "What it should be."

And written across the top was "Diary of a Lovesick Mutant – A Maximum Ride Fanfiction."

With that, I spread my pure black wings, almost whapping Max in the head with one, and took off into the day, enjoying the wind on my facing and glad I didn't live in the world of Max's Maximum Ride series.

AN: Okay, so I understand that this piece probably wasn't the most interesting thing you've ever read, but I really needed to rant about Fang. Not sure about all of you lovely people out there, but I really, really did not like the book. It pretty much sucked. Why? Well, if you actually read the story, you understand. All of Fang's feelings about the book series are my own. I honestly think the series should have stopped after Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports.

For all of those out there who are confused, in this the series never took place, the Erasers never found the Flock, and Total, Dylan, and Dr. Martinez don't (for all purposes of this story) exist. I always wondered how Fang would react if he read the books. Well, here you go. This is what I think.

And those who haven't read Diary of a Lovesick Mutant, go read it, NOW! It's amazing, far more amazing than Fang.

Even if you don't agree with what I wrote, I would very much appreciate a review. Please, if you disagree, don't like my writing, or do like my writing, tell me why. Flames are very much excepted and CC is awesomeness.

Thanks!