Author: NagiLite

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I OWN SCHWARZ!!!! MWAHAHAHA!!!! o.o Kidding, kidding...I own nothing. *sob*

"I want a brownie."

Farfarello glanced at the small blue-eyed boy who was, at the moment, staring dejectedly at his laptop. From what the Irish man could see, the only thing on the screen was a screensaver with little nekos running from one side to the other.

"Brownies hurt God, Nagi."



"Ah. So you'll help me bake some, then?" Nagi asked hopefully.

"No," Farfarello said.

"Why NOT?"

"Cooking is beneath me," he scoffed.

"I won't let you have any if you don't help, baka. And anyway, cholesterol doesn't hurt God if you don't ingest it."

Farfarello narrowed his gold eye, pointing one of his ever-present knives at Nagi. "That's low, Naoe. Real low. Threatening to deprive a man of chocolate. Shame on you."

"Hey, that's life."


"C'mon, you can stir the batter."



"What the HELL--?"

/Hey, is something burning?/

"Stove fires hurt God."


"Nagi, what's going on?!"


"God is CRYING. HEHhehhehHEHhehHEH!"

/Farf, you're scaring me./

The four Schwarz assassins were gathered (rather, splayed) in the kitchen, Nagi desperately aiming white fluffy clouds of foam at the stove, Crawford opening windows to let out the billowing drafts of smoke, while Farfarello was laughing maniacally in a corner and Schuldich was commentating.

/And the Bishounen groans in agony--Look at him go! He's really totalling that cooking appliance!/

"Shut UP, Schu."

Crawford coughed raggedly, sticking his head out of the window closest to him. Ah, fresh air. He quickly ducked back into the kitchen when an earsplitting yell filled the atmosphere...

"FARF, those are MY brownies!"

Nagi had abandoned the fire extinguisher in favor of tackling the insane Irishman, who was cradling an ashy tray in his arms.

/And Farfie's DOWN! Wow, an amazing attack by Nagi! (And I don't think they're brownies anymore, if that's what they were to begin with.)/


Nagi paused, his hands entangled in Farfarello's bleached hair. "What on Earth--?"

"My war cry," the lunatic explained.

And the fight continued...


Nagi triumphantly stuffed, brownies into a plastic bag, fully intending to enjoy them at school the next day. So what if they looked like lumps of charcoal? He was sure they tasted better than they looked.

Strapped in his straightjacket, Farfarello shot another venomous glare at Nagi. That little brat would pay. He had promised to give Farfarello brownies to hurt God, and GUESS WHAT?! He'd LIED! The bastard. Oooh, but the time would come when there would be no straightjacket seperating the two, and THEN Nagi would feel the WRATH of Farfarello. Heh. Hehhehheh.

Schuldich crossed his legs and chewed on the filter of his cigarette. He'd scanned Farfie's mind briefly, and had come to the conclusion that (a) it was a scary place and (b) it would be some time before the psycho was allowed to lounge freely about their apartment.

Couphing for the nth time on mostly-imagined dust particles, Crawford turned the page in his Somehow-Imported-American-Newspaper. He could SWEAR smoke still clogged his breathing space. Ah, well, he'd just ignore it. flipped the page again. Then he coughed. Then he cursed.

Life was so unfair.


*A Week Later*

"I want a cookie..."