TALES FROM THE PORTABLE CONFESSIONAL

FIRST CONFESSION: The Potty Mouth

Nicholas D. Wolfwood sat on the stairs outside of the house that he, Vash, and the insurance girls were staying in, smoking his ever-present crumpled cigarette and pondering life's great mysteries. Like how the people of Gunsmoke managed to make cigarettes even though it was near impossible to grow anything on the desert planet, including tobacco. Shrugging and deciding that some things were best left unsolved, he turned his attention to his approaching friend.

"Hey, Vash." The priest greeted, adding a half-hearted wave.

"Hiya, Wolfwood!" Vash replied in a fake cheery voice, "You wouldn't happen to still have that portable confessional, would ya?"

Wolfwood hesitated, unsure of why Vash might want to confess, but quickly brushed the thought aside and whipped the miniature church out of seemingly nowhere, thinking of nothing but the orphaned children, "Yep! Right here."

"Oh good!" Vash looked very relieved. He handed Wolfwood a handful of double dollars and tried to cram the object over his gravity-defying hair. Of course, the spikes wouldn't go down without a fight, and in the end it ended up holding the confessional just above Vash's eyes, making it look like some odd sort of hat, "Ready."

Wolfwood gave Vash a sideways glance at his new confessional-hat and then just shook his head sadly, "Ok, go ahead."

Vash nodded and began, "Ok, well. this one time when Knives and I were little we were playing in the Rec. Room and we were having lots of fun. We played tag, and hopscotch, and climbed trees, and made flower-crowns, and played leap-frog, and."

Wolfwood cut Vash off. The mental image of Knives with a flower-crown playing hopscotch was confusing him. He wasn't sure whether to be frightened or laugh, "I don't need your life story, Vash."

Vash nodded again and then continued, "Well anyway, we were having a great time and then Rem came in and said it was time for dinner. I didn't want to go in, so I. I-I. I said. I called. I. I-I."

Wolfwood let out an aggravated sigh, rolling his eyes at his friend, who was nearly in tears, "Just spit it out!"

"Icalledherthes-word!" the gunman blurted out and then started crying.

"Which s-word?" Wolfwood asked, slightly confused.

"I can't say it.!" Vash sobbed, "It's too horrible to speak of!"

"Shithead?" Wolfwood tried.

"Nooooo." Vash continued to cry.

"What was it???"

"I can't tell yooOOOOOOOOOoooooooooou!" Vash wailed.

"Jesus Christ!" the priest cursed, fed up with the Humanoid Typhoon's antics, "Just tell me! What? Skank? Slut? What?!"

Vash instantly stopped crying and glared at Wolfwood, "What did you just call my momma?"

Wolfwood blinked, "I was just."

"Wahhhh!" Vash flying tackled Wolfwood and began pounding his head on the ground, "Don't-THUNK-call-THUNK-Rem-THUNK-those-THUNK-bad things-THUNK-!"

"But you said."

"I ONLY CALLED HER STUPID!" Vash shouted, then realizing he had just said the "s-word", gasped in horror and covered his mouth.

"Stupid? That's not a bad word, Needle Noggin! What's wrong with you?!" Wolfwood shrieked engaging Vash in another fight.

That was the state the insurance girls found them in when they got home ten minutes later.

AN: I know. I know. Curse me, I'm a horrible person. I've started another fanfiction when I can't keep up with the ones I have now, but I just couldn't resist. I can have some serious fun with this one. Anyway, R 'n' R!