Other Fan Fiction ❯ A Few Fries Short of a Happy Meal ❯ Flight? ( Chapter 5 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Author's Chapter Notes:
Anony: This is Lady Tiadalma's first chapter in the fic! Give her a round of applause for joining in the craziness.
Lady: It was hard to think stupid for awhile there, but after much practice, and inspiration from the Schrei Box, I finally got the hang of it! My brain still hurts and it will never be the same again...
Anony: Houston, we have a problem. Lady thinks her brain will never be the same again...and she's right! Because she's befriended some of the craziest people on here! ^^



“Hey, Bill.” Tom held as still as he possibly could. “Bill. Bill? BillBillBillBill-”

“What?” Bill answered, spinning away from the mirror, glaring at his idiot twin.

“Look what I can do.”

Bill sighed, knowing he would have to clean up and potentially translate for the police when Tom was finished. “Tom, why are you hanging from the ceiling fan?”

“Cuz I can flies!” Tom looked like a moron with a bedsheet tied around his neck, and Bill sighed. “See? I got my shits tied round my neck, and the fan will gimme, ya know, the uh...” He looked thoughtful for a second, then blank.

Gustav glancd up from his book, slitting his eyes against the light from the bulb in the overhead fixture. “Let him go, Bill. If he kills himself, we won't have to worry about wanting to ourselves.”

Georg came strolling into the living room from outside. “Dudes, iz totes fabu in the outsides! Lez must be owt dair!” He paused, looking at Tom partially suspended from the ceiling fan. “U B doin wut up dair?”

“Imma fly, Georg, jus swatch.” Tom got a determined look on his face. He squared his shoulders, gripped the blades of the fan tighter, and extended his foot to the switch to turn it on. He suceeded, and the fan whirred to life, spinning him. For about 5 seconds before disconecting from the ceiling. They both crashed to the floor.

Bill sighed. “Georg, call an ambulance, just in case.” He knelt beside his brother and stared at him.

“But, wut if he no needs one?” Georg questioned, kneeling next to Bill.

Bill rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. “Because, we can't tell if he's in his right mind by asking him his name or the date or anything. He can't answer those questions anyway.”

“O. I calls one nao.” Georg lumbered to the phone, lifted the reciever, dialed, and attempted to explain the situaton to the operator. Apparently, he wasn't getting through to her...

Gustav slithered out of his seat and pressed himself into the corner oposite Bill and Tom.

“Bill?” Tom craoked, “I think I bumpted my head.”

“OK, Tom, can you tell me your name?” Bill asked, knowing her would regret it.

“Yeah, but why? Doncha ya knows it aready?” Tom scrunched his face up. “I thinked you would, yer my brudder...”