Disclaimer: Canon stuff goes to James Patterson. Minimum Walk is mine.
AN: As far as parodies go, it's a rather lame one but it has grown on me like cancer. I needed a break from all my other serious fics. And, like always, reviews are appreciated.
Warning: Useless language, unnecessary violence, unexplainable horniess, pointless OOC scenes, and… you know… stuff that the general population finds funny nowadays.
"They were still under the white-plum tree and their faces were touching except for a pale, thin ray of moonlight between. It occurred to me that he had been very slowly bending toward her all evening to attain this proximity, and even while I watched I saw him stoop one ultimate degree and kiss her at her cheek."
– Nick Carraway, The Great Gatsby
Chapter One: Canon Character Death #1
The School loomed in the distance of the flat desert terrain, nothing more than a menacing dark shadow in the starry night. The temperature was cool and windy as the sun's absence made a mockery of the desert's usual scorching heat. Animals dare not linger near this particularly evil place. However, every so often a wolf's howl could be heard from within the School's fenced-in barrier. Quite suddenly, the plot turns into a raging beast, unable to stop its illogical rampage through what seems to be a ridiculous chain of unlikely events.
Starting with Jeb, bless the poor man.
He was currently dangling at a perilous angle with nothing more than his two hands clawing at the rooftop's edge. The silly scientist had been sipping his evening coffee when he was struck down by a sudden urge to do something unexplainably rash. Obviously, he did. Suited quite handsomely in a top hat and cane, he did a little dance. Being someone born with metaphorically two left feet, he took a little tumble off the railing that he was dancing upon.
This resulted in his present situation.
But wait. Allow me to backtrack an hour.
One Hour Earlier…
The Erasers were in an uproar, flooding the corridors of the School in search of a highly dangerous experiment. It had escaped using an ingenious combination of a plastic spork, a paper stapler, and a large orange lampshade. It had been so unexpected that the Erasers couldn't make heads from tails of the strange creature. They simply stared and allowed the Experiment to run wildly pass them.
It wasn't until the whitecoats shocked their electric collars that the Erasers realized the whole world could be doomed if they let the Experiment escape.
And they got to thinking that the whole world sort of included them too.
By the time they got through that whole thought process, the Experiment was already messing the controls of the School. It allowed other experiments to escape and very soon the Erasers and whitecoats had much more to deal with.
Satisfied with its work, #3535 raced up the rooftop where it knew Jeb was waiting for him.
Jeb pathetically tried to draw his legs up over the edge. However, being close to fifty years old and stereotypically not athletic did not help. So, being the smart man that he was, he did the next best thing…
"OH MY GOD, HELP," he screamed with his hands clawing to get a better grip.
Immediately, he was greeted by the sight of yellow eyes peering curiously down at him. Jeb screamed again, but only because he was coming face to face with one of his most terrifying creations.
"Why are you wearing my lampshade over your head?!"
The yellow eyes blinked slowly and the experiment grinned. It drew out the stapler from its pocket and aimed down at Jeb.
"I'm sorry Mister Batchelder," it hummed merrily, "but sixteen years is an awfully long wait. I want to see my Maximum Ride now and you're getting in my way. Good-bye." It clicked the stapler three times.
Jeb felt the flying staplers land gently on his forehead in a rather anti-climatic way. He stared stonily up to #3535 and shifted slightly from his hanging position.
"Minimum, this is exactly why we deemed you a failure. You're just extremely stupid."
Minimum laughed gleefully and kneeled down. Taking the lampshade off his head, he threw it carelessly away. His bright pink hair flopped over his eyes. Giving the scientist a firm pat on his white-knuckled hand, Minimum smirked.
"I know. Sixteen years is a long time to be playing dumb, huh? I guess I'm a little tired of it now," the boy whispered.
So that's when Minimum Walk took out his spork and stabbed Jeb's left hand. The whitecoat yelped in pain and the pink-haired boy withdrew the kitchen utensil-turned-weapon with a slight frown on his face.
"Opps. I forgot you're a righty," he said whimsically and plunged the bloodied spork into Jeb's right hand.
"You're a bit of a bastard, aren't you?" Jeb rasped as he let go of the rooftop and fell.
Minimum stood up and turned away. He heard a muffled thud that hinted a nice blood-splattered scene ten stories below. He laughed.
"What can I say? Mommy raised me to be a gentleman."