Oh, poop. I was bored. And Bobby cooks innit. Sort of.

Disclaimer: Bobby and all his friends, family and ex-girlfriends are the property of Marvel Entertainment Group. They are being used without permission, for no profit. Please do not archive without permission. Previous chapters can be found at http://alykat.hispeed.com/unfrozen/fanfic/xgirls/index.htm

The Super-Uncanny Adventures of Bobby and His Amazing X-Girlfriends
by ValKerrie

Chapter 6: Down by One

"ROBERT DRAKE, you open that door THIS INSTANT! I KNOW you're in there!"

Slowly, the door of apartment 4C swung open, and a red-eyed, malevolent creature peered out.

Opal gasped as he stepped out into the hall.

It was rare to see an unshaven, sloppy-haired, baggy-eyed, irate, bathrobe-clad Bobby Drake, but he did exist. And he wasn't a pretty sight.

"Opal, I work forty-two and one half hours per week. Last night, Marge made me investigate 'strange drug deals' which turned out to be Mr. Peterson paying Andy Perkins to mow his law. The night before, Cloud dragged me halfway across town because she 'swore' she'd seen someone who looked like one of Apocolypse's ex-horsemen's brothers. The night before, Zelda recruited me as 'wrench-hander' while she 'upgraded' her exosuit. I have had six hours of sleep in the last week. Now, it's Saturday, and it's five a.m. WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

"I need some Latverian yak cheese."

Bobby blinked. "This is all a horrible, horrible dream." He started to close the door.

"Bobby! Just give me some cheese and I'll go away! I know you have some."

Amusement didn't have a whole lot of value to the chronically sleep-deprived, but Bobby had the strange feeling that this one was going to be worth it. "First of all, why do you need Latverian yak cheese? And secondly, why, in the name o' Dr. Doom's rusty rear end would you think I would have Latverian yak cheese?"

"It's not my fault," Opal replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I mean, it's not like she labeled it."

Bobby closed his eyes painfully. "Could you make this brief, O?"

Opal hmmphed. "I got hungry in the middle of the night and ate Cloud's pasta and shrimp casserole. How was I to know it was for the picnic? Anyway, the other girls gave me a list and said I had to go find all the ingredients, and I can't come back until I do."

"Lemme see the list," Bobby grunted.

Opal handed it over.

In Zelda's loose scrawl was written a selection of food items, the few of which actually existed being of the variety that one expected to find deep within some sort of ancient temple, guarded by something with entirely too many tongues.

Bobby sighed. Over the past few days, Opal had been the butt of more practical jokes than he'd played during his entire first year on the X-Men. And she hadn't seemed to notice. Perhaps it was time for a little compassion...

"Opal, about this list..."


Or maybe not.

"Try the FoodFair. Ethnic foods aisle."

Three hours later, Bobby emerged from his room, scratching his posterior and rubbing his eyes blearily.

There were girls in his kitchen.

Girls. In his kitchen.

Bobby wandered over to the refrigerator, pulled out a carton of orange juice, took a swig, and put it back. And then gave his rump another scratch.

"Good morning, Popsicle," Zelda observed with a smile.

"Good morning, Dream Apparition Zelda," Bobby replied with a salute. "I'm going back to bed so that I can wake up and you can be gone."

Lev danced around Bobby, and grabbed the milk out of the fridge.

"Good morning, Dream Apparition Lev," Bobby greeted cheerily. "My, you're looking hot today."

"She can't hear you," Zelda replied.

"Of course not. She's a dream apparition."

"No, actually, it's because she's listening to your Discman at an atrocious volume."

Lev belted out a few lines of something Bobby vaguely recognized as Offspring. It figured Lev would be an Offspring fan. It just figured.

"Well, nice meeting you, Dream Apparition Zelda!"

"Nice boxers, Sleep Deprived Bobby!"

"Thank you."

Bobby stumbled back towards his bedroom.

Suddenly, Opal burst into the apartment, frantically waving a paper bag.

"GAH! That's not a dream apparition!" Bobby yelped.

"FOUND IT!" Opal announced. "Take that, Lincoln! I replaced every ingredient in that stupid casserole! Ha HA!"

Zelda blinked. "Even the tentacles of Zzod?"

"Um, I had to make a few substitutions."

"Oh. Well, turns out Cloud had extra. Casserole's in the oven at our place. That's why Lev's borrowing Bobby's. Said she wanted to make brownies or something."

"This ... is real...?" Bobby mumbled.

"Yeah, it is," Zel reminded. "Did you make the potato salad? You were supposed to make the potato salad."

"Um ... I can't remember."

Zelda stretched. "Hey, I was just supervising. You wanna keep an eye on Lev and her Danger Kitchen for me? I could use a nap."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Bobby replied, trying to reconcile the fact that he was indeed awake, and the uncertain state of the potato salad.

Opal just stood in the doorway, blinking, as Zelda pushed past her.

Lev twirled around the kitchen, in her own little world.

Lev was of a very practical, pragmatic people. They made advanced robots, economical transports, and pollution-free factories. But they weren't very artsy. So her idea of popular music came frighteningly close to lounge versions of Nintendo theme songs. The fact that Bobby seemed to own a massive collection of music that didn't suck had, quite frankly, blown her mind. She was alone in her own personal musical Shangri-La. And then she started singing along.

Opal flopped down on the couch. "Bobby, did you hear that? Did you?"

"My friend's got a girlfriend," Lev sang, "And he hates that--"

"I heard," Bobby sighed.

"He tells me every day..." Lev crooned.

"They're so MEAN to me, Bobby!"

"He says man, I really gotta lose my chick, in the worst kinda way..."

"Lev, keep it down!" Bobby hollered.

"I have to live with them because I'm broke, and it's their fault! And I haven't been down to the mall in forever and ever, and I really want some new shoes..."

Bobby squinted at her. Surely this wasn't happening.

"...he works his hands to the bone, to give her money every payday..." Lev sang.

"They go, and they don't take me! I want them to like me! I want to be one of the girls."

Bobby grimaced. What was he supposed to do?

"Bobbbbbby! What am I gonna dooooooo?"

What am I gonna do? Bobby thought.

And then Lev hit the chorus.

"Well, my friend, you gotta say: I won't pay, I won't pay, no wa-a-a-ay! Na-na, why don't you get a job?"

Opal turned purple.

Any other time, Bobby would have played the peacemaker. But Opal had woken him up at 5 am. He let it slide.

Opal launched herself at Lev, brandishing the acrylic fingernails of death.

Without the slightest notice of the Opal's magnificent attack, Lev's fist darted out.


The alien girl winced. Stupid reflexes.

Hesitantly, she took off the headphones, and glanced down at Opal's prone body on the kitchen floor. She frowned. "She jumped me. This is so not my fault..."

Bobby stretched back on the couch. "Noted and logged."

"Are you ready to go yet, Marge?" Zelda demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

"I'm fixing my hair!"

"Can't you use the Power of Oblivion for that?"

"No, it makes it frizzy."

Opal moaned. "Why do I have to put meat on my face? I'm going to smell funny!"

"Because it's cold," Cloud replied. "My, that's a shiner."

"I'm deformed!" Opal wailed. "This is YOUR FAULT!"

Lev snorted. "You jumped me."

"I'm ready!" Marge announced, flinging herself into the room.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Lev griped. "We're going to a picnic full of senior citizens. It's not like you're trying to attract men."

"The Daughter of Oblivion must look good wherever she goes," Marge replied.

"You guys still in there?" Bobby called from the hallway.

"Yeah! Come on in!"

Bobby walked in, carrying a bowl of rather dubious-looking potato salad. "Remind me again why we're going to this?"

"Because we promised Mrs. M," Cloud reminded him. "She's running for President of the Community and she wanted to make sure there was a good turn-out and plenty of good food and fun."

Bobby stared at his bowl of glop. "And I'm somehow involved in furthering this goal...?"

"Oh, Bobby, you know the little old ladies love you," Zelda teased him. "Just let them pinch your butt a few times and Mrs. M'll have the Presidency in the sack."

"You're so lying."

"You know Mrs. Witherspoon next door to you?"


"I'd fix that chink in your shower wall tiles if I were you."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "And you know about this ... how?"


"I caught her selling pictures to Mrs. Schwartzenhuffer."

Bobby blinked. "Pictures?"

Lev shrugged. "I can't believe you try and mold your hair like Elvis when you have enough shampoo in it."

Bobby just groaned.

Meryl Putterman-Reilly-Schlazanski-Mueller-O'Hanrahan wanted to go home.

And she wanted her teeth.

But mostly, she wanted to go home.

Damned young'uns.

"I don't know ... She's awfully crabby and she wouldn't take a nap today ... maybe I should just take her home..." her caretaker, Chad mumbled, wringing his hands.

"You're right you should! Right after you give me back my teeth!"

"Oh, nonsense, Chad, dear! She'll be just fine," Mrs. Mellipoulos dismissed.

"No, I won't," Meryl grumbled. "Take me home, Chippy."

"I don't want her to upset the other senior citizens..."

"I will, too. As soon as y'give me back my teeth."

"Pish-posh, dear! Georgie and I will keep a good eye on her, won't we, dear?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure, of course. Keep tags on the old bat, yes," George mumbled.

"As soon as I get my teeth back, you're going down, George Mellipoulos."

"That's what you think, you dried-up old monkey."

"George!" Mrs. Mellipoulos scolded.

Meryl narrowed her eyes. "Any day, Mellipoulos. Any day."

Mrs. Mellipoulos shuddered. "Don't worry a bit, Chad. She'll be a little angel--"

"A Hell's Angel!" Mr. Mellipoulos snorted.

"--and you go ahead and have a nice afternoon off!"

"Give me my teeth back, first, Bucky! Or I tell my daughter you left me in the basement all day!" Meryl paused. "Of course, then she'd stick me with some other anal teenager to wipe my chin and steal my teeth."

"Mrs. Putterman-Reilly-Schlazanski-Mueller-O'Hanrahan, please! Your daughter cares a lot about you, and besides, I'm nearly twenty and--"

"Ah, just give me my teeth and go have your day off. I need to get started on Mellipoulos. He's young and spry, and I may have to chase him around a bit to wear him down."

Mr. Mellipoulos cocked one eyebrow.

Chad looked close to tears.

"She'll be just fine!" Mrs. Mellipoulos smiled.


Chad reached into his pocket, and handed a little case to Mrs. Mellipoulos. "Don't give them to her unless she wants to eat. She'll abuse the privilege."

Meryl watched as Chad beat it out of the Sunny Oaks courtyard.

Dusting off her apron, Mrs. Mellipoulos leaned down so she could look Meryl in the eye, where she sat in her lawn chair. "Okay, Reilly-Putterman-Schlazanski-Mueller-O'Hanrahan. I will be president of Sunny Oaks. I have worked very long, and very hard for this election, and if you ruin this for me, mark my words, I will make you pay."

Meryl blinked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And maybe if you're good, you can have your teeth back."

Even Mr. Mellipoulos looked rather frightened.

"Oh, look, Bobby and the girls are here! MOUSSHKA!"

Meryl looked at George. "Aah, I don't have to perforate your rear. You're married to her."

"Don't I know it..." George mumbled.

He sat in the darkness.

It was more dramatic that way.

"ArtiChoke has failed me. I thought for certain that she would draw out my greatest enemy. But those ... those children interfered. They shall not interfere again, shall they?"

"No, sir."

"You shall attack her at her home. Those children shall not even know of your presence."

"Of course, sir."

"Yeah, like, why would superpeople, like, want to hang around a geezer home anyway?"

"What ... did you say?" He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"Um, nothin'."

The mysterious man stroked his chin in an extraordinarily diabolical manner. "Ah, yes. Your day has come, Riveter. Your day has come."

"Sorry about the potato salad, Mrs. M. Something went horribly wrong."

"Oh, mousshka, I'm sure it's fine."

"It smells like vomit," Lev volunteered.

"Now, that's not very nice, dear."

"She's ... not lying..." Bobby shrugged, scratching his head. "It's ... terrible ... I admit it ... It ... smells like vomit..."

"I made a casserole," Cloud volunteered. "And Lev made some cookies."

"Which don't smell like vomit."

"Er, that's nice, dear. Opal, honey, what happened to your eye?"

"Don't ask," Opal replied, shooting a pointed glance at Lev.

"Where should I put my cookies?" Lev asked. "Hopefully not anywhere near Bobby's potato salad."

"I'm going to go bury this..." Bobby frowned, staring at his potato salad.

"Mousshka, I'm sure it's fine," Mrs. Mellipoulos said, wrenching it out of his hands. "Now, why don't you go say hello to nice Mrs. Witherspoon. She's been talking about you all morning."

Bobby's face went white.

"Like, I can't see, like, anything but old people!"

"Shut up."

"God, it could be any of them. Why's the boss got it out for one old broad, anyway?"

"There. Her. She's the target."

"If you say so. She looks easy enough to take out."

"Like, I'm so totally, like, ready to go! Um, which one was it again?"

"That one! THAT ONE!"

Meryl surveyed the food table.

All these things required teeth.

Damn the Sunny Oaks community. Surely some of the others had dentures.

Then a young man wandered aimlessly over, bearing ... could it be?

"Sonny, is that potato salad?" Meryl asked, her eyes gleaming.

"I ... don't know what it is. But I wouldn't eat it," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Boyo, I ain't got no teeth. I don't care if it tastes like old rhino hide, scoop me up some."

"I ... wouldn't want to be responsible for your untimely demise," he replied, scratching his head.

"Kid, I seen things that would make your eyeballs spin."

"Yeah? Try me," he smirked.

Meryl raised one eyebrow. This one needed to be whipped into shape. Right after he served up some of that potato salad. "So whose grandkid are you, sonny?"

He blinked. "Oh, I'm no one's grandkid. I live here. Name's Bobby Drake."

Meryl's eyes widened. "So you're the young stud Witherspoon's been selling off, lately, eh?"

Bobby's face turned green. "Please, Old Withered Woman, tell me you don't own any of those pictures."

Meryl made a face. "What do I look like, a pedophile? You young people. Always so sensitive. Now get me some o' that potato salad."

Bobby sighed and reached for a paper plate. "I assume you've got a last will and testament somewhere?"

"Of course I do. And you couldn't hurt me, boy. Bigger men than you have tried, and I'm still here." Meryl eased herself out of her walker and into a nearby lawn chair, while Bobby slapped a heap of potato salad onto the plate.

Bobby chuckled. "I don't doubt it. But I think you're doing a little underestimating yourself. You haven't met my ex-girlfriends."

He handed her the plate, along with a plastic spoon.

"You're my new favorite person under the age of seventy," Meryl announced, flashing him a gummy smile.

"Yeah, save it until after you've eaten some of that," Bobby shrugged.

Meryl loaded up a spoonful.

She put it in her mouth.

Something exploded.

"Told you so," Bobby replied.

"NOBODY MOVE!" a nasal voice screamed.

Bobby blinked. It wasn't the potato salad after all.

Three young woman stood in a smoking crater where there'd once been fencing. The one who'd spoken was a platinum blonde, her bangs piled high with hair spray, and her eyes adorned with more electric blue eyeshadow than even Tabitha Smith would admit to owning. The second was short, dark of eyes and skin, glaring intensely around the yard. The girl in the middle, seemingly the leader, had long chestnut hair, swept back in a severe ponytail.

The residents of Sunny Oaks ceased their bingo playing and shuffleboarding and regarded the new arrivals.

"Listen up, geezers," the dark-haired girl announced. "We don't want to hurt you. We're here for one of you, and the sooner you give up, the easier it will be on all of you."


Oh, no, Bobby thought.

"This is a private picnic," Mrs. Mellipoulos announced, stomping up to the trio. "And unless someone here is willing to vouch for you young ladies, I'm afraid you're going to have to leave. And fix that fence while you're at it. I'll not have poor Mario the groundskeeper working his fingers to the bone for little delinquents like you!"

"Oh, yeah, lady?" the blonde asked, stepping forward. "And whatchu gonna do about it?"

Don't bring me into this, don't bring me into this... Bobby silently pleaded.

"Well, then, I'll just have to sic my mousshka on you."

She brought me into this, Bobby sighed.

"Your mousshka?" the blonde asked skeptically.

"I didn't want it to come to this," the leader said slowly. "But we can't tolerate those who stand against us." She clenched her fists, and oversized, red, boxing-glove-shaped clouds of energy formed around them. She drew back one fist.

Bobby started forward, knowing he wouldn't make it in time.

He needn't have worried.

A streak of sparkles shot past, taking Mrs. M with it.

Cloud, Bobby realized, relaxing.

"What's this?!" the blonde screamed, a rainbow-colored aura coalescing around her.

"The lady asked you to leave," Zelda boomed, and Bobby wondered how she'd gotten into her armor so fast. But he looked over, and sure enough, Cloud and Mrs. M were now standing with Zel, Lev, and an in-costume Marge. Opal seemed to be peering eagerly over Marge's shoulder.

The leader swore. "How did they get here so fast? Never mind -- she's not the one we want. Rainbow, Hoover, take care of them. I'll acquire the target."

The small girl blurred, and a dusty cyclone took her place.

"Whoa, it's the Tasmanian devil!" Zelda observed, charging towards the girl.

The blonde went after Lev.

Bobby held his ground, keeping his attention on the leader. After, he hadn't busted his cover yet.

She was heading straight towards him.

Bobby clenched his fists, lowering the temperature around himself slightly.

He didn't notice Meryl grip her paper plate, knuckles going white.

"If you're thinking of being brave, sonny, leave it to the professionals," she warned.

"Oh, I plan to," Bobby growled.

The dark-haired girl continued forward, knocking a few senior citizens to the ground with her giant gloves.

She's coming for me, Bobby realized, gritting his teeth.

She narrowed her eyes.

"No fooling around," she mumbled.

She was ten feet from him. Seven.

With a blast of cold, Bobby shot into ice form, creating a towering wall of ice between the girl and himself.

It shuddered once as she slammed her glove into it, then shattered into ice cubes until the second assault.

The girl's green eyes flashed as she waded through the icy rubble.

"Iceman, is it?" she asked. "I've heard of you."

"I haven't had the pleasure," Bobby replied.

"The Boxer," the girl replied, with a slight bow of the head. "This isn't your fight, X-Man. So, if you'll gladly step aside, you won't get hurt."

"Not my fight?" Bobby echoed, encasing the Boxer's upper body in an icy grip. "Then whose fight is it?"

Her arms flared, and the ice exploded away from her. She slammed a fist into Bobby's face, sending him flying.

The Boxer turned towards her target.

Meryl slowly placed her potato salad on the edge of the table, and tiredly stood up. "Well, dearie, I guess it's my fight, now isn't it?"

Lev slowly circled the other girl.

She wasn't quite sure how to attack the girl without killing her. After all, the slightest bit of heat, and with all the hairspray, she'd go up in a fireball.

The multicolored aura danced around the Rainbow dangerously. Suddenly, the blonde girl gestured, and the aura lashed out to encase the pyromorph for a moment.

Lev blinked. She certainly didn't feel any different.

"What did you do?" she asked warily.

"I changed your hair color!" Rainbow chirped. "Ha ha HA!"

Lev shifted back to human form and grabbed a lock of hair. "I'm a blonde again. I'M A BLONDE AGAIN! Zelda! Look!"

Zelda tossed the tornado girl to Marge, in order to the do the excited Lev-is-Blonde-Again Jump-Up-and-Down.

"I can't believe it worked," Rainbow mumbled, moving towards her leader.

"Whoops, almost forgot," Lev realized, tossing off a miniature fireball towards the fleeing villian.

She went up like an oily rag.

"Stop, drop and roll! Stop, drop and roll!" Cloud managed belatedly.

Hoover was confused.

First of all, it was hard enough to see from inside the stupid tornado.

Secondly, the big robot had just abandoned her, in order to jump up and down a bit.

She was faced with a tall red-head and a shorter, sparkling girl, both who seemed oblivious to the winds and dirt clods she was kicking up.

A third girl jumped into the triangle, surrounding her.

This one seemed to be holding up her arms against the windstorm and cursing a lot.

Hoover got an idea.

"Go AWAY, Opal!" Cloud shouted.

"YOWTCH, I wanna help!" Opal wailed. "You guys -- OW -- always get to be the heroes!"

"That's because we are the heroes," Marge replied icily, concentrating creating a mound of dirt near the base of Hoover's cyclone. Enough disturbances, and she ought to stop short, like putting a rock in a blender.

But Hoover had other ideas.

She aimed for Opal.

And rammed.

The tornado paused for a minute over where the Japanese girl had stood.

The was a loud kaCHUNK kaCHUNK, like when all the laundry works itself into a knot in the washer, right before the thing starts walking and it's time to call the Maytag man.

And then both girls were thrown bodily out of the dust devil.

Hoover sat on the ground, holding her head and looking dizzy.

Opal, battered, bruised and bloody, hit the ground and skidded several feet, before coming to a stop, face first, in the dirt.

"I told you not to do that," Marge scolded, nudging Opal with her foot.

Opal didn't move.


"Maybe she hit her head," Cloud suggested, craning her neck to see.

Carefully, Marge flipped Opal over with toe of one boot.

"Oh ... crap. We killed her."

"We didn't kill her!" Cloud protested, moving closer, so she could see the body. "Oh, my, she does look rather dead, doesn't she?"

"I suppose you work for Count Slaughter, eh, kid?" Meryl asked, experimentally lifting the bowl of potato salad Bobby had left on the table.

"He's Baron von Slaughter now!" the Boxer replied indignantly.

Meryl rolled her eyes. "Always was a self-centered little snot. Look, tell him I'm old and I don't want to play his little game anymore. Leave me alone and I'll leave him alone."

The Boxer advanced. "I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, Riveter. You caused the Baron a lot of trouble in your day. He doesn't want you out of the way. He wants revenge."

Bobby groaned and started to sit up.

"Don't say I didn't warn you..."

Ancient sinews cracking like a whip, Meryl hurled the heavy Fiesta-ware bowl at the young woman. It cracked against her head, spraying her with potato salad.

"You'll pay for that!" the Boxer howled, shaking mayonnaise out of her eyes.

Then Meryl slammed her over the head with the picnic table.

Bobby, sitting up on the grass, blinked blearily, and passed out again.

"You take her pulse."

"I'm not going to take her pulse, you take her pulse!"

"I'm not touching her!"

"Can't you tell if she's dead? Power of Oblivion and all that?"

"It doesn't work that way! Where's Zelda? Zelda will touch her!"

Suddenly a rather-scorched Rainbow grabbed Hoover and dragged her to her feet. "The boss is down! We gotta get outta here!"

Hoover pointed to the corpse.

"You think the boss wants it?"

Hoover shrugged, then grabbing the body, revved up her cyclone.

"Hey, that's our dead friend!" Cloud yelped. "Give her back!"

But Hoover was already at the fence. Rainbow, dragging the Boxer, was close on her heels. Then, in a shimmer of green, the trio disappeared.

Marge uttered a rather long and complex suggestion as to what they could do with themselves.

Zelda and Lev ran up to their teammates.

"What's wrong?" Zel asked. "We won!"

"And I'm blonde, again," Lev added.

"They got Opal," Cloud admitted.

There was a pause.

"You mean we gotta go rescue her?" Zel asked disgustedly.

"Not ... exactly..."

When Bobby came to, Mrs. Mellipoulos was standing over him, with a damp cloth on his forehead.

The girls sat nearby, looking forlorn.

Mrs. Reilly-Putterman-Schlazanski-Mueller-O'Hanrahan sat in her lawn chair, with her teeth, eating a hamburger, and kicking Mr. Mellipoulos whenever he got within reach.

"What happened?" Bobby mumbled. "They ... got away?"

The girls nodded sadly.

"Well ... that's okay ... I mean ... nobody got hurt, right?"

Cloud started bawling and Marge looked guilty.

"The potato salad wasn't bad," Meryl put in with a shrug.

Bobby sat up slowly, holding the cloth to his forehead. Something was ... wrong ... missing...

"Hey, Lev, you're blonde again!"

Lev sniffled.

Bobby frowned. He thought she liked being blonde. Oh, well.

"Can I have a brownie?"

Mrs. M handed him a brownie.

He munched it thoughtfully.

"Hey, where's Opal?"

And then all the girls burst into tears.

continued >>

Next time, on the Super-Uncanny Adventures of Bobby Drake and his Amazing X-Girlfriends...
• More on the ubermysterious Baron von Slaughter!
• Guest shots from two of the X-Men and a Very Special Guest from the New Defenders!
• Hot Pockets!
• All this and more, as DEATH OF OPAL (tm) continues! (Never say that X-Girlfriends doesn't put the "fun" in "fun"erals ... Been waiting to use that line since July ;) )

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