Title: That Special Woman Feeling (Where You Want to Maim Somebody)
Author: Slipstream
Rating: PG-13, for language and subject matter
Characters: Rob, Kon, 'Bo, 'Nita, Cass, 'n Suz
Summary: It's "that time of the month" for Cass and Anita, and the boys have made the mistake of eating all the ice cream and using all the Tylenol in the HQ. Oops. Revenge is sought by the girls. Revenge... and chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate...
Notes: Written in response to the YJ Girls Period Challenge at the Young Justice Fan Fiction E-Group. Blame them, not me. Any pain caused by this fic should be treated with two generic brand Tylenol washed down with swigs of warm, flat Coca-Cola. It works, I tell ya...
Disclaimer: Yada yada yada, YJ belongs to DC... Yada Yada Yada... DC belongs to AOL-Time Warner... Yada yada yada... Tylenol, Ben and Jerry's, Li'l Debbie, Ho-Hos, "The Princess Bride," and "Labyrinth" should be paying *me* for this free product endorsement.
Other notes: The idea of Tim being a David Bowie fan came from the fic "Three Sidekicks, Two Cakes, and a Single Candle" by Smitty. The title for this fic (the main one, not the part in parenthesis) came from this video they showed all of us girls when we were in the fifth grade that scarred us horribly. Let me sum it up for you in two words: dancing ovaries.


Cassandra Sandsmark took one look at her calendar and cursed.

She looked again, just to make sure, and upon seeing that it hadn't changed, went into another stream of unrepeatables.

It was Tuesday. The twenty-fifth. Not that being Tuesday the twenty-fifth was anything horrible in itself, it was what was written on that particular date on her calendar that made her spout streams of language that'd have the oldest fart of a sailor blushing.

Tuesday the twenty-fifth was circled with a red star placed next to the number.

She counted. The next five days or so after that were circled with red stars beside them, too.


A rumbling clench in her lower abdomen confirmed her doom.

Even worse, the handy bottle of Midol she kept on her dresser for just this time of the month was empty. She fumed. Just because her mother forgot to refill *her* stash when she went on a mad PMS drive to the store for Milky Way Fudge Ice Cream was no reason to steal from her daughter.

Stomping across her room in search of her darkest pair of jeans, Cassie raved at the injustice of being a female. First that whole spiel about switching from training bras to underwires to the trials and tribulations of finding a reliable strapless that didn't require pasties... now this. This was proof that God was a man.

She hated her period.

She vowed that when she saw Kon later that day, she'd kick him where it would *really* hurt. Hard. It might not make the long-term gender difference any fairer, but it would make her feel better.

That's all she wanted in life. Instant pain gratification.

And chocolate. Yeah, chocolate was nice, too...


Somewhere in the back of his little cloned skull, the part that wasn't concerned with rolling around on the floor writhing in pain, Kon had to stop and wonder at the injustice of it all. Just... come on! Because he was a guy and had certain things that all guys had and all girls didn't, it didn't mean that Wonder Girl could just waltz up and kick him in that Most Super Place. What had he done, anyway?

He decided to inquire this of his attacker.

"What'd I dooooooo?"

He even managed to get it out with minimal whimpering. Score one for the Clone-Boy.

From her vantage point standing over him, Cass glared. "You weren't a Super*GIRL*."

She stormed off before he could really grasp the meaning of it, but that was okay. He'd decided to crawl back to his room to change and fine some steel-reinforced underoos, anyway.


Slo-Bo grumbled as he shuffled his grocery sack while trying to open the door to the kitchen. He was ticked. The rassa-frakkin, pimpled-possessin', minimum wage workin' staff at MacDolands had screwed up his order *again*. It had been overcooked, *again*. The thing had barely bled when he poked it.

So he was set to make himself a real Czarnian style burger. Blood raw. With freshly slaughtered meat. (Okay, he'd actually just picked some beef up from the local Kroger, being that he was a little squeamish about cows and all that. Just don't chide him about it...)

He had all of the fixings, too. His little yellow eyes drooped and his mouth drooled at the thought of the delicious burger in store for him. Thus in a state of fantasy, he made his way into the kitchen...

...and stopped.

The kitchen was a mess. Cabinets were open, boxes strewn everywhere, the remnants of several pints of ice-cream scattered across the countertop. Other than being completely ransacked, it looked empty, so he stood blinking stupidly and was therefore more than slightly startled when a sudden explosion and smoke arose in front of him.


He eeped and clutched the beef tighter. In front of him was a demonic looking figure, eyes aflame, who was currently pressing a sharp knife to the stubble which was only now beginning to grow to look manly. He felt sufficiently threatened.


She glared at him with and ground her teeth. He took a quick look up and down and noticed she was wearing black jeans and a navy sweatshirt that said "B*TCH" in bold, pink letters. His sweet Anita... And she was even pressing her other blade against his throat. How adorable.


Slo-Bo didn't have a fraggin' clue about what was going on, so he just shook his head and mumbled incoherently.


"...headache..." he managed. The flaming eyes seemed to dance a little brighter.


She made a noise that sounded like a high note of disgust crossed with a train running over several stalled cars and teleported away, leaving one li'l Czarnian to quiver in the kitchen, eyes wide, beef forgotten.

Holy shit.

He wished he could be that scary.


Tires squealing, the Redbird roared into the garage before spinning to neatly parallel park at 75 miles per hour behind the Super-Cycle in a move strait out of a Bond movie. With an insane grin, Robin hugged the steering wheel tightly. Oh, how he loved his car...

When he walked into the living room, his brow furrowed at the sight that greeted him. Cassie and Anita, each dressed in dark jeans and sweatshirts, were plopped on the couch. Had he missed something? Was it Twinkie day? Whatever day it was, they sure didn't look happy about it. Before he could solve this little conundrum, two hands reached slowly from a nearby door and yanked him in.

There were several muffled squawks and a couple of loud thumps before a light was finally turned on, ending the confusion. Rob straitened his Alvin Draper shades, which had been knocked loose, and glanced around. He was in a closet. A rather small closet filled with coats and old lightbulbs and a rug that smelled a little off. In a closet, with Slo-Bo and Supberboy.

"What are you two *doing*?"

"Hiding from the girls," whispered Kon.

"In the *CLOSET*?"

Slo-Bo clapped a hand over his mouth. "Shhh! Ya idjut! They might hear ya!"

Rob yanked the hand away angrily, but he lowered his voice. "Okay, then. Just... *why* are you hiding from them?"

"They've gone psycho." Slo-Bo stated simply.

Kon agreed. "Yep. Empress threatened 'Bo over Tylenol and WG's in a kicking mood."

He raised an eyebrow. "Tylenol...?"

The Top Teen nodded.


Kon shut his eyes and faintly acknowledged the fact.

Robin scratched his head in thought. "Where?"

Shifting in the cramped space, Kon managed to put a hand on Rob's shoulder. "Where it would hurt. Just stop... and think... Where it would really... REALLY hurt..."

Understanding dawned in his eyes and Rob looked at Kon sympathetically.

"So we're hiding in here," explained Lobo. "'Till they leave or we die or somt'in."

Robin ignored them and opened the door a crack. Peering into the main room, he saw that the scene had not changed. Cass was channel surfing at high speed and cursing. That was okay. But Anita was being very, very quiet, allowing him to hear the high pitched clangs as she sharpened her knives against each other.

Deciding that the closet wasn't such a bad place to be after all, he closed the door and began to think. Anita had gone homicidal over pain killers... Cassie had become suddenly violent towards Kon's gonads... Hmm... The little hamsters in his head worked their butts of spinning their wheels as he pursued the thought.

He jerked suddenly with realization as he remembered The Incident. The Incident had occurred the week before when he had chosen exactly the wrong moment to override Oracle's frequency and overhear a conversation between Barbara, Black Canary and Batgirl, outlining their own personal experiences with "Code Crimson."

"Men..." he started, pausing dramatically and wiping the sweat from his brow. "We have a situation."

Slo-Bo and Superboy leaned forward.

Oh God, how could he say this? He took a deep breath. "The girls... are having their periods."

Kon shrank back at the mention of perhaps one of the ickiest of the female bodily functions, but Slo-Bo just blinked his yellow eyes in confusion.


Superboy and Robin exchanged glances. Much to their chagrin, it looked like they were going to be giving the Next-to-Last-Czarnian the Talk in a closet.

"Well, uh... See, 'Bo, a period is when... uh... Rob? Wanna help me here?"

Robin fiddled with his sunglasses and rubbed his nose, hoping the motion would hide his blush. "Uhm... y'see... a girl's body has an organ where babies are made, and once a month, if a baby's not in there, she... uh..."

"Oooooh... You guys mean the menstrual cycle!"

Robin looked taken back. "Well, um. Yes. That's what we mean."

Leaning against the wall, Slo-Bo took one hand out of his pockets to examine the state of his black nail-polish. "Cripes. Ya' shoulda just said so. 'S not like ya' gotta dumb it down for me or nothin' with slang, y'know. I'm cultured."

"Uh... yeah, we knew that. Just kidding, right?" Superboy nudged Robin to play along.

"Uh... right."

Deciding that his polish was ruined anyway, Slo-Bo began to violently chew his nails. "So..." He spit out a random hangnail. "Whatta we gonna do about it?"

"The closet sounds nice," piped Kon.



Cassie hurled the last available couch cushion at the TV. It didn't help. The contestant bought a vowel to fill the final blank in "HAUNTED H_USE."

Anita squinted at the edge of her blade. Yes, it looked sufficiently sharp.

The temperature of the room lowered a few degrees as a cloud of smoke rose from the carpet and pulled together in the figure of a girl. Secret blinked her blue eyes at her rather grumpy friends, pausing upon reading Anita's shirt's proud proclamation and Cassie's black sweatshirt that read, in tiny white lettering, "WHY ARE YOU STARING AT MY CHEST? BACK OFF, CREEP."

She smiled cheerily anyway. "Hey! How's you two's day been?

"Horrible..." mumbled Cassandra, flipping through the channels again.

"Terrible..." chimed in Anita.




"Just plain sucky."

"A no good, very bad day."

"If you catch our drift."

Secret blinked. "Oh." She looked again. They looked mad, not sad, so nobody had died. Their HQ was thoroughly intact, for once, so it couldn't be that. But the boys were gone, and that was a very bad sign. She decided to tread this water lightly. So to speak.

"So... what is it that makes this such a bad day?"

Cass snorted. "You're a girl. You should know."

Suzie thought long and hard. Nothing concerning her current femininity had *her* all up in a tizzy. Hmm... What could they mean? She thought back to her days at the DEO. Nope. Nothing there. She squeezed her eyes a little tighter and called forth the recently re-aquired pre-death memories. There seemed to be an incident involving the bathroom... and her brother... and yelling at him to get out while he snickered... and a box of white pads.

"Oh!" She clapped her hands happily in her revelation. "You're having your periods!"

"And we're just soooooooooooo happy about it..." grumbled Anita.

"It's not fair!" pouted Cassie. "We've been hanging out for like, forever, right? 'Nita and I are 'in synch,' unfortunately, why couldn't you be down in crapola witch week with us?"

For once, Suzie saw a benefit to the Abyss. She smiled evilly. "Uh-unh. Menstruating is for mortals."


"Just remember the plan and stick close to me and we'll be fine..."

"I'm still scared..."

"Aw... shaddup ya' big baby..."

"Both of you shut up. Now, on the count of three, we go. One... two... THREE!"

Warily, the boys opened the door to the closet and peeped out. Nobody was in the hall. Robin was the first out, followed by Slo-Bo and a reluctant Superboy. The plan was simple, as all effective plans are. Once free of the mothball stench of the closet, they would make their way to the hanger, where they would use the super-cycle (since it had the biggest blasting cannons and could fly) to escape.

There was, however, one major tactical flaw. Their retreat required them to pass through hostile territory, namely the living room where the girls had taken up as offensive grounds. But with their combined skills, they believed they would survive. And a little luck, of course.

Okay, a lot of luck.

Well, a miracle, more likely. But there was a chance.

Halfway to their objective, and all was proceeding as planned. They might have even made it, had it not been for PMS enhanced super-powers.

"Just where do you guys think you're going?"

Drats! Robin tried to move forward in a mad dash but found his feet stuck to the carpet. From the exclamations surrounding him, he knew this to be true for the other males in his party, as well. There was only one way to deal with this situation logically: complete and utter surrender.

He slowly turned as much as his stuck feet would let him, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. He even pulled out of his arsenal the smile that made all of the little old grannies want to pinch his cheeks. Robin waved at the others to do the same.

"Uh... hello, girls! How are you doing today?"

Cassie and Anita did not look pleased. Secret floated a little ways above the couch, the world's biggest smirk plastered across her face. Anita's eyes were glowing, which explained their current inability to move. They ignored his inquiry. Instead Cassie pointed a grave finger at the lot and spoke in a low and threatening tone.

"You... boys... have committed a terrible and horrible crime."

"Yes," voiced Anita. "A most terrible and horrible crime."

"You have been born with a 'Y' chromosome, delivering you from the hands of a monthly, bloody fate."

If it was possible, Cassandra's face had grown darker and the flames in Anita's eyes danced a little bit more maliciously. Slo-Bo gulped audibly.

"In accordance with the aforementioned transgression, you have consumed all decent, non habit forming pain killers in the infirmary, eaten every gallon of ice cream and other such chocolate flavored consumables, filled the movie rack with machoistic films, taped "Wendy" episodes, and nature documentaries of humping baboons." Cassie cocked a merciless grin. "For this you shall be punished."

Against their will the boys fell with a thud to kneel on the floor.

Satisfied that they were in the proper worshiping position, Anita raised her arms to the ceiling and proclaimed in a suddenly loud and thunderous voice, "THE PMS GODS DEMAND... A SACRIFICE!"

Cass ceremoniously produced a folded sheet of paper from her back pocket.

"You are to go to the store. You are to buy the following items and return with them promptly on the threat of death or the inability to reproduce." She cleared her throat and began to read.

"ONE! As many various types of sugary, fat filled consumables as is humanly possible. This includes ice-cream, snack cakes, sodas, popcorn, chips, licorice, Cadbury eggs, ramen noodles, and nachos."

"TWO! Entertainment in the form of movies, namely 'The Princess Bride' and 'Labyrinth.'"

"THREE! Pain killers. Lots and lots of pain killers. Advil, Midol, Tylenol, Asprin, generic stuff, we don't care. Get it fast, get it here, get it down out throats."

"Aaaand FOUR!" At this Suzie looked over her shoulder and began to giggle uncontrollably. "Pads. Tampons. Maxi. Tampax. Need we say more?"

Anita leaned down close to the boys' position on the floor. "Got it?"

They nodded fervently.


The bonds that held them to the carpet released, and they sprinted for their lives.


"This sucks. This really, really sucks."

"Shut up, Kon, and help me find a parking place."

They had gone incognito and taken the Redbird with its "civilian" body shell camouflage. The nature of this mission required the highest possible level of stealth. It remained at utmost importance that they not be recognized as the male half of Young Justice on a run for feminine hygiene products.

However, the fates seemed to be having their monthlies as well. Everybody and his dog had chosen that day to go to the grocery store, so they circled the lot in search of a place to park. With his keen vision, Robin scanned the asphalt, searching, ever searching... there! He floored the accelerator and made a few illegal turns in a mad dash to park, but it was all for naught. The little old lady had cut him off.

There! Another one! He headed hopefully for the car with its brake lights on. Soon, soon they would back up, and he would have a primo spot. He waited, and waited, honked his horn, then craned around to see if anyone was in the car.

There was. All that could be seen of the two occupants were a kicking pair of legs pressed against the window and a steady rocking motion. Cursing, he moved on.

It seemed the only available slot on the lot was "Reserved for Handicapped Use Only." Robin had had enough. Glancing around to see that no cops were looking, he pressed a tiny yellow button underneath the steering wheel and grabbed the piece of blue paper that popped out of an invisible slot.

Superboy started. "Hey! Where'd you get that, and can I have one?"

Ignoring him, Robin hung the Handicapped Parking Permit on the rearview mirror and shamelessly pulled into the reserved spot. "No. One, they're for special Bat-use only, and two, you can't drive."

They piled out of the car, pretending that everything was perfectly normal. After a brief incident involving Slo-Bo and the automated door, they regrouped in the main isle to overview the battle plan.

"Okay..." muttered Robin as he stared at the scrap of paper containing the items with which they would pay their ransom "Right. This'll go faster if we split up. I'll get the food. Slo-Bo, you get the movies. Kon, you get the... uh... other stuff."

"Now wait just a gosh darn minute! How come *I* have to go down the 'pink isle,' huh?"

Slo-Bo rolled his eyes. Jeez, ya'd think the Kid was compensating for somethin', the way he went on. Robin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Look. You brought this upon yourself, because I *know* that if I sent you to rent the movies you'd just hide in the porn section until the girls' estrogen levels returned to normal."

Slo-Bo perked up. "Ya can rent porn at the super-market?!"

"Shut up. *And* 'Bo would cause a bigger comotion in that isle than a guy without pale skin and tattoos around his eyeballs."

"What about you, huh, Mr. Leader?" Kon poked him in the chest. "What makes you so qualified as that you think you have enough experience with this matter to take up food responsibilities?"

Robin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his teeth. "I took a girl to Lamaze classes for three months, got her tuna and squeeze cheese at 3 a.m., and was present at the birth, which didn't go particularly well. I am a constant subject of female teasing by Oracle, Black Canary, *and* Batgirl, who is just downright pants-wetting scary every 28 days or so, and have had to fetch Huntress four pints of Ben and Jerry's while on a stake out to calm her down so that she wouldn't kill the members of the Russian mob who happened to be meeting when her time rolled around, so DON'T MESS WITH ME!"

People were staring now. Kon just took the little slip of paper Robin handed him and left. Slo-Bo was already gone. Huffing, Rob grabbed the nearest cart and pushed his way through the throng towards Dairy.


Slo-Bo was becoming extremely frustrated. Whoever the hell had hired the dyslexic person who'd "alphabetized" the video racks deserved a good fraggin'. He just couldn't find those stupid movies. He'd been though every possible section: horror, action, adventure, movies with gratuitous explosions, new releases, comedy, heck, he'd even gone as far as to check out the nature documentaries section.




No go.

Although he *had* found that, yes, indeed, the supermarket *did* carry adult movies, but he had retreated quickly upon seeing such titles as "Bad Girls Go Bass Fishing." Even he couldn't stomach that kind of trash.

Growling, he made one more circuit. There was the underlying option of asking an employee, but, beneath the scraggly Czarnian skin, he was still male, with the inborn inability to ask the time of day much less directions to two videos.

That left one section still unexplored. The Children's Videos. The rack loomed at him with all its wire and colorfully boxed Disney terror.

He inched his way into the aisle and held his breath as if the air itself was poison. Scanning the rows, he qucikly spotted "The Princess Bride" and grabbed a copy, but "Labyrinth" was proving harder to find because he didn't know how to spell it and, frankly, neither did the dyslexic employee.

A little kid in the corner was staring at him, a copy of "Timmy the Tooth" clutched in his chubby hands. Slo-Bo stuck a tongue out at him. He ran, squealing in fear. Some motherly looking types were gossiping loudly about how "scary" looking teenagers had gotten these days, and how they'd simply *die* if their sweet little Dylan and Tammy ever stopped being conformist and went punk.

Where was that stupid movie...

There! He spotted a copy. But waittaminute... He scrunched up his yellow eyes in deep thought. Was that... David Bowie? That guy owed him twelve bucks from the gar-gan races in the Dak quadrant! And what did he do to his hair?

Shrugging, he left with his videos. The sooner he got out of here, the better.


Just his luck. Of all the million and one carts in the store, Tim had gotten stuck with the rusty one with the broken wheel. His pride, however, did not allow him to return and get another cart, so he simply fought the stupid thing up and down the aisles.

His basket currently contained enough sugar laced products to put a class of pre-schoolers into a coma.

And that was just from the cereal isle.

He threw his weight upon the handle and pushed, forcing the buggy to turn right when the broken wheel wanted to stubbornly go left. The snack cake and cookie isle loomed before him.

Consulting the list provided by his captors, he began to gather boxes from the shelves. Oreos. Keebler Stuffed Elves. Vanilla Wafers. It seemed nothing was safe.

Robin paused at the snack cakes and added a few extra boxes of Ho-Hos and Fudge Rounds for Batgirl. She was addicted to them, and became violent when they weren't readily available.

Now came the true challenge. Ice Cream. If he bought the wrong flavor, heaven only knew what would happen to him.

Fortunately, he had experience in this area.

He carefully bagged Milky Way Fudge and several pints of assorted Ben and Jerry's. He added to the mix sprinkles, Hershey chocolate syrup, and graham cracker crumble topping. Oh yeah. He ruled.


This was absolutely *humiliating.*

To think, the Kid of Steel, shopping for extra-absorbent, odor eliminating Maxi's with wings.

It was a violation of the super hero code of ethics, was what it was. Kon fumed to himself as he tried to nonchalantly pick from the multitude of identical pink and blue boxes. Seeing these things advertised on tv was one thing, actually thinking of people he knew *using* them... that was another story. The pads were bad enough. Just thinking about the shape of a tampon... and where it was supposed to go... and what it was for... He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. When picking up he multi-pack of Tampax, he tried to touch it with the minimal amount of bodily contact.

He supposed things could be worse. He could be doing this with Impulse.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his highly trained and sensitive eyes, Superboy spotted a being his radar noted as a Hot Chick. Pushing the cart as far away from him as possible to make it look like somebody had just left it there, he spun and picked up the nearest items on the shelf in an attempt to avoid looking like a boyfriend duped into buying pads.

Long, slim legs... tanned skin... dark hair pulled up in a twist of a bun... tight black shirt with matching pumps and skirt... oh yeah, she was nice. He did a little mental pruning and grinned as she passed him. The look on her face as she smiled back and scanned him up was down was appreciative, interested, then recoiled into disgust as she looked at what he held in his hands.

He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to regain her interest.

She calmly removed a can of mace from her purse and attacked.

In the midst of his coughing and tear filled haze, Kon could hear her heals clicking briskly as she walked away. What had gone wrong? Glancing down at the boxes he held in his hands, he groaned. Extra-small Trojans and genital herpes treatment cream. That would be his luck.

Screw this he thought, dropping the items like they were Plastic Man's boxers. He blindly scooped pads, tampons, and medication into the cart and headed up front.

Robin and Slo-Bo looked up from a talk they had been having upon his arrival at the check-out counters.

"You guys owe me," grumbled Kon as he dumped his stuff into Rob's cart, arranging a couple of Pringles cans to hide it.

Slo-Bo and Rob exchanged silent looks.

The boys moved towards the check out, trying to be inconspicuous. When several people had gotten in the line behind them, making escape impossible, Rob dug in his pockets for his wallet and spoke hesitantly. "Hey, Kon, got any money?"

"What? Sure." He got out his wallet and opened it up. "Plenty here from my job at Cadmus. How much do you..." He looked up. Gone. They had ditched him. He could barely make out their retreating backs as the automated doors shut behind them.

The cowards! The little traitors! He started to started to surge forward in chase, but a big guy with a weeks worth of stubble that smelled a little odd tapped him on the shoulder. "You gonna keep holdin' up the damn line, buddy, or check out?"

Kon turned to see that he was next. The cashier smiled at him cheerily, and he noticed with a groan that her badge had TRAINEE stamped at the bottom.

With an almost supernatural ability she plucked the largest, most blatantly obvious, poofy package of pads from his cart. Kon prayed as she ran it over the scanner.

Nothing happened.

She tried again. Nothing. Kon began to sweat.

She pressed a few keys and the cash register made an angry squealing noise and began to spit out rolls of receipt paper.

Oh God no...

She reached for the all call and her voice squeaked brokenly over the intercom. "FLOOR MANAGER NEEDED AT REGISTER FOUR, FLOOR MANAGER NEEDED AT REGISTER FOUR, THANK YOU."

She hung up and waited happily. The burly man began to eye his purchases. Mortified, Kon tried to sink into the floor. It didn't work.

When the manager finally showed up, he squeezed himself behind the cashier and began a lecture on store ethics. "Now Maggie, you do this sequence to ring up purchases, remember?" He tapped some keys.

"Oooh... like this?" She hit a button. The cash register made another angry beep.

"No, like this. Try again."

"Like this?"


"No. Try again."


"Wait! I think I have it this time!"


Yep. He was going to *maim* the little bastiches when he caught up with them.


In the safety of the Redbird, Robin reclined into his seat. Slo-Bo had discovered the radio and was busy flipping though the stations in search of some decent music.

"Think we should have left Kon in there?" Rob inquired after a while.

Slo-Bo finally settled down after finding a station playing Bowie's "Space Oddity." "Naah. He'd'a done the same thing ta' us, given tha' chance."

Robin closed his eyes behind his shades and let the music carry him away from all this menstruation worry. "You're right. All's fair in war and pad runs."


The girls looked up at the sound of the slamming of a door to see three male figures hidden behind stacks of brown paper bags.

"Took you guys long enough," admonished Anita.

Kon-El was in no mood to be reprimanded. "We got your stupid stuff, alright? Deal with it."

Cass was about to say something nasty, but something caught her eye. Anita noticed it, too.

"Is that four pints of Cherry Garcia...?"

"... with graham cracker crumble topping and Hershey's chocolate syrup?"

"Dig in," declared Robin, dropping the bag. The girls snatched the food and were gone fast enough to do Wally West proud.


Later, upon walking through the living room, Robin noticed the girls had settled down amidst a mound of junk food to watch their movies. He smiled. They'd done good. They'd survived. Maybe they'd even get some brownie points out of the whole thing.

He reached over Cassie's shoulder to steal a handful of her popcorn. She didn't bite off his hand. This was a good sign. As he sat their munching happily, the images on the screen caught his eye. He stopped mid-chew.

Was that David Bowie? With... Muppets?

He squinted. What had he done to his hair? Why was he wearing those... pants?

He couldn't help it. He felt drawn to the movie. He eased himself into one of the lounge chairs next to the couch, picking up popcorn and a Zesti as he sat down. His eyes never left the screen. Anita even absent mindedly passed him a bowl of homemade extreme Neapolitan ice cream. Hah! He was in! Kicking back, he prepared to stuff himself and watch whatever strange movie this was that had Bowie nancing around in white spandex and Bon-Jovi hair with goblin puppets.

He squirted a generous amount of whipped cream on top of his ice cream. Slo-Bo and Superboy could cringe and cower during this week all they wanted to. It definitely paid to be in tune with the wants of women during that time of the month.