What do I do when my love is away?

Does it worry you to be alone?

How do I feel at the end of the day?

Are you sad cause your on your own?

Ein wished he were dead. Death was certainly preferable to the big plastic cone that was currently around his neck. He couldn't see anything that wasn't directly in front of him. And if he had owners that didn't think it was hilarious to let him bang his cone into doorways and fire hydrants as he limped along, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

But to be perfectly honest, all five creatures had never been so happy to see the Bebop. Ed let out a whoop of joy as she flew to the hatch, hanging on the door until Jet opened it. Faye, however, made a sharp left towards the Redtail. "Where ya' going, Faye?" Jet asked gruffly as Spike blew by him.

"You said quite plainly that if I didn't drop the case, there wouldn't be a place for me when I got back," she said seriously.

Jet rolled his eyes. "Are you getting your ass on this ship or not, woman?"

Faye smiled for a moment, and the bolted into the Bebop like a bat out of hell. "Dibs on the shower!" she screamed as she shoved an already half-naked Spike out of the way.

Spike regained his balanced and then began beating on the door. "Screw that! I had it first!"

"Then why am I in the shower and you're out on your ass?" she called out, turning the water on.


Jet sighed as he opened up their pantry. Hmmm…beef or chicken Ramen? Life is full of important choices. He was starving, and he knew his crew would be, so he made both. Bicken Ramen. Or maybe Cheef. He hadn't decided. He watched in some amusement as Spike ran to the back and flushed the toilet, making Faye cry out in pain and defeat. He emerged from the bathroom with a triumphant grin. "How old are you?" Jet asked him.

"27 going on 12," he replied, smiling. "What's for dinner?"

"Ramen. Bicken flavor."

Spike nodded. "Excellent." He then went off to join Ed and her torturing of the dog. He normally refrained from such activities but this cone thing added another element that intrigued him.

Jet shook his head, stupid grin on his face. It occurred to him in that moment that he didn't really like a single person on his ship. He wouldn't really single out any of them to hang out with, even Spike. They weren't really his buddies. They weren't his pals. They were something else entirely.

And they would fight, and walk out on each other, and be banned from the ship. They would bitch and moan and lament the day they met the others. But when they were quite through with the theatrics, and after the world had kicked their asses around the block a few times, they'd come back. And he would always let them. They all would. Did that make them family? Eh. Maybe.

Maybe family was just the people who were left when you figured out you didn't fit anywhere else. Maybe a family was really a bunch of people who only fit together by default. And he was cool with that. After all, it's only natural that freaks flock together.


Much thanks going out to the Beatles, John Lennon, Guns and Roses, Memphis Jug Band, NOFX, Marilyn Manson, They Might Be Giants, The Monkees, The Verve, Guns and Roses again, Led Zeppelin and Joe Cocker for rocking so damned hard. (And yes, I know the Beatles wrote With A Little Help From My Friends but Joe Cocker fucking owns it. Wonder Years forever!)

And as always, thank you for reading.

Agent Orange out.