UnSuitable Situation II: Or Wizardmon Takes His Suit For A Checkup

(Being a sequel to: UnSuitable Situation: Or Why Wizardmon Was Single)

Gatomon hadn't suffered much from her ordeal beyond her wooziness, some lost patches of fur, and a bad case of lint head. But she'd let him know in no uncertain terms that she'd shred that suit of his into new bandages for Mummymon if it ever so much as looked sideways at her.

His unrepentant apparel had responded to that threat by blowing the retreating feline a pretty loud raspberry---and I don't mean the kind that grow on bushes. Gatomon had yelled back that if Wizardmon was wise, he'd (quote:) "burn that rabid jumpsuit along with those blasphemous boxers you're wearing! " (unquote). Then she'd tottered off towards some blue digimon with white wings, seeking solace in his arms.

Wizardmon blushed all over again as he'd watched her and V-mon go. He'd really hoped his Thunderball suggestion that she forget about his Pikachu licensed underwear would have lasted a decent century or two, but no such luck.

Damn. Was it his fault the selection of boxers within his size range and wallet capacity at the local Walmon's was severely limited?

As if that wasn't bad enough, Suity had kept him up half the wee hours. Nothing like lying in bed during the dead of night listening to your clothes constantly trying to hack up hairballs on your closet floor.

Well, enough was enough Wizardmon decided as he rinsed out his dental stitchbrush and combed back his hair into its customary ponytail. Today things were going to change and Suity would just have to accept that. He, Wizardmon, had no intention of becoming the oldest unattached bachelor in the Nightmare Army!

Finished with his hygiene, Wizardmon went into his closet and straight to the hanger holding his yellow jumpsuit. Besides the cape, it was the only piece of clothing he had on the neat row of hangers. Oh, he'd had plenty of other suits, but somehow every other outfit that he'd purchased both before and since getting the yellow one had mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again.

It was really weird.

"Suity," he began sternly, as he pulled it from the hanging bar, "I'm tired of your chasing off every female that comes..." The wizard frowned. "You don't look so good."

His infuriatingly sentient garment looked wrinkled and saggy and decidedly off color, the numerous small white and purple hairballs littering the floor testament to the kind of night it must have had.

*Urp* "Blaaaa…" his suit said, every zipper open and flapping loosely as it belched.

Well, that explained the foul odor of wet cat hair that was permeating his closet.

"Don't expect any sympathy from me," Wizardmon informed it in a cold tone. "If you've developed a cat hair allergy, it's your own fault. Now zip it with the hystronics." There was a metallic sound as the various zippers closed themselves. "That's better! I'd put you on rinse cycle with some Tums tablets and lint rollers, but I've got to go and try to patch things up with Gatomon. …. As well as go shopping for some new boxer shorts."

The crème-colored full-body article whimpered piteously, its coloring around the zipper tinged bright chartreuse, its red eyes missing their luster. In fact, it looked so utterly miserable that Wizardmon immediately felt his bad temper erode.

Darn.

"You really are sick, aren't you?" he asked trying not to sound concerned.

The suit groaned and unzipped its main zipper in order to eject another misshapen-shaped skein of fur.

Oh dear.

Tenderly, Wizardmon scooped the clothing up, slipped on his gloves and boots over his p.j.'s, and headed for the door.

"I'm taking you to see the vetailor."

Immediately the jumpsuit came to life (so to speak), a shiny grin on its face, a sparkle in its eyes.

"Haah haah haah haah," it panted like a happy magical suit.
A happy, healthy, like-new magical suit.
A happy, healthy, 'I-don't-need-to-see-the-vetailor-whatever-are-you-talking-about?' like-new magical suit.

"If you're trying to tell me that you were only acting sick to win my sympathy and get out of punishment for your actions last night," the mage said as he grabbed his staff and hat before exiting his abode, you can forget it. I'm still taking you to the vetailor."

The suit draped over his arm deflated noticeably, dejectedly burping another blast of fetid feline fragrance.

"Digital Gods but I hope this trip is all down wind."

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Four hours later and Wizardmon was stoically waiting his turn in the vetailor's lounge, trying not to make eye contact with the pretty Bakewomon sitting across the way. The Data had admitted to feeling awkward being there dressed only in his pj's, terry robe; but the other Champion's presence had made him feel less self-conscience seeing as her attire was just a ragged sheet. They'd begun some small talk, or tried to. It seemed that even as ill as he was, Suity had decided to engage the Bakewomon's canvas handbag in a squinty-eye stare contest---red satin to eye hooks---, culminating in a fierce clicking duel of zipper versus snaps which seriously cut into the adults' conversation.

"Uh… he's a bit anti-social, I'm afraid," Wizardmon had sighed in embarrassment as his jumpsuit emitted a loud raspberry, hiccupped, then burped up a wet furball onto her handbag.

The affronted Bakewomon had made an uncomplimentary guess as to his next digivolvement level, and moved across the room leaving the wizard no choice but to while away the time in the pages of the ragged magazines strewn about the place.

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Finally the receptionist stopped applying her nail polish long enough to inform the prospective patients and their owners that, "Mister Wizendmon? The vetailor will see you and your jumpsuit now."

"That's 'Wizardmon'," Wizardmon said, getting up to head for the office.

"Whatever," the receptionist said, going back to inspecting her pedicure.

Wizardmon took a step forward---and found he was somewhat anchored to the spot.

"Suity, let go of the chair. And the table. … Gosh darn it, unclamp yourself from that mon! … Sorry about that maam---a thousand pardons . … By the Digital God's stop being such a scaredy--- Release that table before you spill! …Everything on it."

At last he managed to pry the terrified bundle of cloth into the exam room where Dr. Shurimon, licensed and credited V.T. waited.

"Afraid of the doctor, is he?" Shurimon chuckled.

"You could say that," the wizard panted back as he heaved the reluctant patient up on to the ironing table for the vetailor.

"Hmm.. let's see," Doctor Shurimon murmured as inspected the coverall's weave and thread count, then unzipped the mouth and inserted a thermometer. "Now if you would kindly cough for me?"

To the wizard's shock, the suit actually complied with the command without first kicking up a fuss.

"Haargh."

"Yes."---Shurimon fanned the air in front of his face---Well, besides a bad case of halitosis, it sounds like its suffering from mothballitis-"

"He tried to swallow my womon friend---a gatomon," Wizard broke in impatiently.

"---cat hair allergy," the doctor smoothly corrected himself. "I recommend exploratory surgery." Rearing back, he let one of his arm springs fly, the attached ninja star at the end coming within a hairsbreadth of the fabric between the satin eyes. "Please don't move. This will be delicate work."

The next second, Wizardmon was trying to breath around the jumpsuit clamped to his head.

"Isn't that a little drastic? It's only an aller…. Hold on a sec. Suity, get OFF!" he growled, tugging a clinging sleeve from where it covered his eyes., "I can't see whom I'm talking to!"

The jumpsuit scooted up a bit until Wizardmon looked like he was wearing an yellow turban along with the purple bathrobe and moon-motifed pajamas. The skull symbl on the pointed hat muttered as its own view of its surroundings was thus obscured.

"That's better," the bluish wizard said. "As I was saying, isn't surgery a little bit overkill for a simple allergy? Can't you just give him an antihistamine or something else that comes from an inexpensive little bottle?" He held his forefinger and thumb a little apart.

"I don't believe in dealing with only the symptoms---I go right for the cause!" Dr. Shurimon informed him, sending his ninja star 'hand' straight for the quaking headgears, both permanent and temporary.

Having just shimmied up the hat's crown in order to see again, the hatband skull's eyesockets got even bigger than they were already. Deciding it didn't really want to see what was going on after all, it shimmied back down below the jumpsuit, which let out a shriek of terror.

(Yes, if you've ever noticed, that hat skull band also has a tiny pair of eyeballs! I wonder if Wizardmon isn't actually an early attempt at data digivolving by a gnomemon, a hatmon, and a suitmon? Never mind…. My brain tends to go off on tangents.)

Fortunately for the weaving of both items, Wizardmon had taken a hasty step away from the maniac in the white polyester in time to prevent their being punctured..

"I… I don't know…"

"It's simple," Dr. Shurimon said reasonably. "If swallowing gatomon heads is what is causing the allergy, then we must simply cut out the zipper at the seams and stich up the resultant hole. Then If you like, I can do a fix on your hat band as well. It may not look like it now, but I guarantee you that in a century or two those teeth need straightening. What do you say?" The medico grinned, yellow eyes gleaming madly with… well, madness.

(No offense Shurimon fans. I just copied this guy after a hairdresser I knew. Person loved to cut hair. And cut and cut and cut. I think it was an obsessive compulsive disorder or something. Anyway, my reaction was akin to what Wizardmon is about to propose now.)

"I say… Run!" Wizardmon yelled to his clothing as the doctor advanced---now determined to be quite insane, all three sentient souls flying out of the exam room, the waiting room, and out into the street---.two with a lot of help from Wizardmon proper's locomotive abilities.

"WAIT," Dr. Shurimon cried after them. "I'M GIVING A TWO FOR ONE DISCOUNT!"
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TBC?