They Call Me, The Sharkalator

And Flock Rule Number Two Is, Don't Argue With Max Or You'll Live To Regret It." I Spun And Stomped Out To The Clearing, Turning Back For One Last Jab At Dylan. "and By The Way, You Clearly Don't Know Me Better Than Fang Does. Do You See Fang Arguing With Me? No, You Do Not." Fang Rolled His Eyes.

I Just Wish I Could Walk Into My Senator’s Office And Say, “senator Dude, Um, We Have A Problem With These Sicko Scientists…” But Then Again, I Don’t Think We Have A Senator, Do We? Is There A State Where Mutant Freaks Are Represented? If So, Let Me Know.

Unfortunately, Every Time Someone Said “debriefing,” The Entire Flock Had One Image: Someone’s Tighty-whities Disappearing In A Flash. We Were Smothering Our Giggles, But It Was Getting Harder. Coupled With The Whole “naval This, And Naval That,” With Its Undeniable Belly-button Connotations, We Were Essentially Turning Into A Sugar-jacked, Sleep-deprived Flock Of Incoherent, Silly, Recombinant-dna Goofballs. This Was Not Going To End Well.

Ari Smiled. The Sun Was Shining, The Weather Was Great, He Was Eating Ice Cream, And All His Dreams Were About To Come True.

Steve Turned To Us Again, Looking So Dang Enthusastic That I Wondered How Much Coffee He'd Had This Morning. "so, You Kids Want To Be Big Stars, Eh?" God, No!" I Said Spewing Crumbs. "no Way!" Oddly, This Seemed To Throw A Petite Wrench Into The Convo.