Title: The Crayon Fiasco

Category: Humor/Crack!Fic

Summary: Patti innocently leaving her room a chaotic mess quickly turns into a full blown coup d'état against Kid's regime and bathroom decency.

Warnings: Slight OOC, and mild swearing and complete and total crack!fic. Play told in First Person, unconventional as it may be. Review please.

Rating: T

Act. I

Setting: Outside of Patti's room.

Oh. What fresh Hell is this? Crayons were everywhere, broken and used, all over the floor. Incomplete pictures lay under them. There was no method to this madness—none. Her bed isn't made and—oh god. Why is the good china in there! — Stuffed animals lay torn asunder all over the floor. I might faint.

"God dammit Patti! Get in here now!"

"Mhm-Kay! I'll be there in a second!"

Hmm, she sounds far too blasé. Perhaps I should tap my foot to let her know I mean business.


I could hear her little boots skipping along the floor—she better not leave marks, and, anyway, why's she wearing boots in the house? I have rules about this kind of behavior!

"What's up Kiddo?"

How the hell can she sound so content when her room is a disaster area?

"What's up? What's up? Your room looks like a tornado ripped it apart, that's what's up! Explain, Patti!"

She cocked her head to one side and lifted one eyebrow, pursing her lips.

"I had a tea party." She said it with such a serious look on her face, I almost backed down. I might have too, if I hadn't remembered the pigsty that is currently her room.

"A tea party? What kind of tea party was this? Did you invite a Kishin in here or something?"

"Naw, that party isn't until Tuesday."

She swung around me in a fluid motion so she was inside of the room, leaving me alone on the outside. She gripped the door in the middle and slowly shut it.

"Oh well, ok—Wait its Tuesday today!"

"Don't worry about that, that's my business."

A moment after the door shut realization dawned on me.

"Patti! If you ate a Kishin soul you and Liz are uneven!"

I banged on the door as loudly as I could, Patti ignored me.

"What's wrong, Kid?"

I turned my head to see Liz walking toward me.

"Patti seems to have established a coup against my regime."

"…What? Patti can barely spell regime, let alone topple one, do be ludicrous." I grimaced as Liz chuckled. The naïve fool, I know a coup d'état when I see one, at least a dozen rules have been broken here.

"None the less," I begin resigned. "Patti has been a very bad girl." I turned my head to the door, and grabbed the knob attempting to turn it but finding it locked.

"Dammit Patti! Open up this door!" I leaned back, putting all my weight on the knob, and used one of my feet to brace myself against the door jam, and the other to beat on the door.

"You'd better open up this minute!" I heard a loud crash from the other side of the door. "That had better not be the good china!" An incriminating giggle came as an answer. I banged on the door more loudly.

"Open up this door Patti!" My voice betrayed me, and cracked, which was followed by another giggle by the villain behind the door.

Liz rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Here, Kid, let me try." Liz grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me away from the door nonchalantly, she then went on to knock on the door and ask politely for Patti to open the door. Patti did. In a fit of victory I fisted the air, only to realize a moment later that Liz was suspiciously missing. I looked up in time to see her being dragged in with a yelp, and the door ominously shutting behind her.

Egads, Liz has been taken hostage! Poor girl, I can't even begin to imagine the horrible torchers she's being put through for staying so loyal, I shall dedicate eight murals to her in the dining hall, to commemorate her brave—did I fold the toilet paper into triangles? Hmm, yes, yes I did. Anyway, Liz's brave struggle against her sister's wicked—what if I'm really remembering that I folded the toilet paper correctly yesterday, but neglected to do so today? No, no, I think I did it today, or…hmm.


Setting: Inside of Patti's room

Liz eyed her sister's messy room wearily.

"What the hell happened in here?"

Patti smiled and closed her eyes while tilting her head to the side.

"I had a tea party." She opened her eyes and eyed Liz seriously. "Mr. Giraffe back sassed my marching orders. I had to take care of him." Her eyes narrowed momentarily, then she smiled and her soprano voice returned to its usual chipper.

"But don't worry I took care of his part of the plan anyway. Operation Cobra is still a go!"

Liz stared at her younger sister, blinked twice, opened her mouth, closed it, opened, and finally asked what the hell her sister was talking about.


Act. II

Setting: Death the Kid returning from the Bathroom, back to outside Patti's room

The toilet paper was not only not folded into triangles, but also turned upside down, so that it rolled under, not over. Blasphemy. Patti must have been behind this—this betrayal and utter disregard for bathroom decency. I knew it, I knew it, this is a revolt against my establishment, and that dastardly Patricia Thompson is behind it. What to do, what to do. A swooshing sound caught my attention, and I saw a piece of paper slide out from the door.

I wearily looked to the left and right before I gingerly pick up the crude piece of paper. It had been written with letter clippings from magazines.

If you ever want to be symmetrical again, my demands are as follows:

A plate of warm cookies

A glass of ice cold milk

A death ray gun

A new Mr. Giraffe plushy

Oh my. She's holding Liz and herself hostage. Well, hmm, so she wants to play hard ball? Well, I'll give her milk and cookies; I'll give her all the milk and cookies she can eat, but first a trip to the toy store.


Setting: Inside of Patti's room

"So, um, you're really set on this, huh, sis?"

A devilish look crept on to Patti's face.

"Of course, he deserves it, after all he's done."

Patti put her ear to the door, nothing; the sound of Kid's frantic pacing was gone. She rushed to the window in time to see Kid leaving the compound.

"Perfect, let's move out!"

Patti grabbed her older sister's wrist and tugged her out of Patti's "headquarters".

"Operation Cobra is a go!"


Act. III

Setting: Undisclosed grocery store.

I loathe oatmeal raisin cookies. Loathe, one step above hate, I think, well. Patti also loathes them; hence I will make her oatmeal raisin, to spite her. As for the milk, it's frozen, ice cold indeed. Insert evil laugh. I can't believe she left me, her arch nemesis, to pick up deliciously baked good. Ha, and may I say ha. I shall win this scrimmage with ease, and then after she begs me for forgiveness for her treacherous doings, I shall pretend, pretend I say, to forgive her unforgivable deeds, lulling her into a false sense of security, then—BAM! I will destroy her precious stuffed animals, all while she watches. It's the perfect plan, really.

I already bought the fiend her "Death Ray Gun" and her giraffe plushy. Luckily Toys 'R' Us was open, unfortunately, Acme doesn't sell Death Ray Guns to minors, so Patti will have to settle for the toy one.

I rounded the corner triumphantly, that is until I saw the checkout lines, curses. The only reasonably short lines where those blasted "Self-Checkout" lines that everyone needs help with anyway, and why? It's not like it's that hard to figure out! Scan, put in bag, and pay. So simple, yet so difficult.

Needless to say, Patti's going to have to wait a while.


Patti's evil cackle could be heard throughout the quasi mansion that Liz, Patti, and Kid called home. Liz froze in momentary terror; she wasn't used to Patti acting so—so evil. After a moment, she continued, she had to find a phone, she'd lost hers—again —and warn Kid, or else this would turn out to be a disaster.

She rounded the corner leading to the modern kitchen. Everything was chrome, Kid usually liked an older feel to things, traditional, in a sense, but being the obsessive compulsive person he is insisted his food be cooked with the utmost care and sanitation standards—not that anyone complained about that.

Like the rest the house there is at least one line of symmetry that can be draw. In the kitchen it was right down the middle the right half was a mirror image of the left, and vice versa. This meant that there were two phones in the kitchen, right next to each other.

Liz sprinted over to the phones, grabbed one, and quickly dialed Kid cell phone number.

Ringringringringringringring…No answer. Dammit.

Patti's laugh echoed through the halls again, only this time it was followed by others' laughs. Liz turned around in a panic and surveyed the room. No one was there. She redialed Kid's number.


Act IV

Setting: Outside of Death the Kid's estate.

The house is quiet, too quiet. A breeze blew my way, sweeping my hair back, causing a chill ran up my spine.

Bags in hand I moved towards my house warily.

The house was dark—though it wasn't all that surprising considering it was still mid-day.

I reached the steps. They of course were in perfect alignment; it had taken that blasted contractor seven times to get it just right.

I took a step towards the door, then another, and another, until I was at the door.

It was still very quiet.

I reached for the door handle…slowly…slowly…slowly.

My hand touched it; I felt the electric surge of handle the moment we connected. It was as if it was warning me to some unknown force. I shuttered at this thought, and then turned the handle. Nothing.

Eh hem. I turn the handle. Nothing. Well then. It's locked.

It's locked.

This situation must be met with the utmost care and finesse.

"Patti," I began gently, "open up this door now."

Then I heard something, something so vile, so disgusting, I couldn't be held responsible for what happened next, from behind the door I heard:

"Never! Viva la rèsistance!"

Now, I'm going to be real with you, I may have gotten a little upset, I may have said some…things that are not exactly "kosher." But what can I say? There will be no civil wars as long as I am the supreme ruler of this household.

"Open up this fucking door, right now you bratty little ingrate! I swear to God I will tear you limb from limb! Do you hear me? Limb from fucking limb!"

By this point I was attacking the door, banging my fist against the base of the door, and kicking it with my feet, but in the heat of all this, I heard something else, something even more sinister. Laughing. And I do mean in the plural form.

I backed away from the door, dumbstruck.

I heard the tumblers on the locks moving, and then the groan of the door opening.

Much to my surprise I was greeted with the very familiar faces of my closest friends, they all smiled, before they yelled the much delayed "surprise."

Soul walked out and playfully hit my back.

"You gotta chill out, dude. Be cool."

I nodded absently. It was not my birthday—

Patti skipped forward and grabbed the bag I still held in my hand.

"Did you get everything on the list?" She checked the contents of the bag then nodded pleased. "Oh, yuck, oatmeal!" She complained. "Oh well, your thank you party will still be fun!"

"…Thank you party…for me?"

She nodded excitedly.

Liz through my an apologetic glance, then muttered something about trying to warn me.

I did my best to contain my embarrassment at my outburst. The rest of the night was filled with playful jabs from everyone, but I got through it. Then I took one large sleeping pill and called it a night.


"Did you see the look on his face? Priceless. Better yet, he trusts me again! Mwahahaha! I shall conquer him yet, and his reign of terror shall be over, and mine will begin! Viva la rèsistance!"



Or is it?