Turn It Into Magic

While it may seem that the hospital was never a peaceful place, the stretch of a few hours from four in the morning to noon were always the quietest. This was mainly due to Elizabeth's warning that if she were awakened, it was a guarantee that she and the other two girls would destroy whoever had forced them to rise from their rest. Generally, no one aside from Ginger was awake that early, and the drummer wasn't one to make excessive amounts of noise.

The day after the fateful shopping trip, however, things changed. As Abi made everyone retire to their rooms earlier than usual, everyone was awake early, and very few people were in the mood for debauchery. Ginger and the girls sat in the kitchen, grimacing and glaring at anyone who was even slightly cheerful as they nursed their respective cups of coffee. John had come down for breakfast with Ginger and wound up falling asleep with his head resting on the table. Everyone else, it was assumed, was out of commission, at least for a while.

Suddenly, the sound of what could easily be mistaken as a group of ravenous school children came emanating from the direction of the staircase. Abi sighed and closed her eyes, not yet in the mood to deal with whatever that noise was.

"Twiggy, you motherfucker!" Pogo's growl was heard as the two men approached the kitchen. Elizabeth rubbed her eyes and tried to forget the meaning of existence.

Everyone's eyes were upon Pogo and Twiggy as they ran, full speed, and infiltrated the small semblance of peace the four people had tried to create for themselves.

Upon arriving, the bassist dived under the table and used his body to shield whatever object he was holding in his hands. Pogo squatted down and glared at him. It was a sight to behold: two full grown men, one in a nightgown and the other with messy hair and striped pajamas, fighting under the table like two rambunctious kids.

"Hand it over, Twiggy," Pogo commanded, holding out his hand for the bassist to place the unknown item in it.

"No."

That simple, single-syllable word cause Pogo to leap under the table and try to attack Twiggy. The dreadlocked man squeaked and gracelessly scrambled out the other side, bumping into John's legs as he did so.

"Fuck!" the blonde all but screeched as he shoved the chair back from the table. That chair, of course, tipped over, and John barely caught himself from falling over. When he finally got his bearings, he looked at the scene before him. "What the hell, you guys?!"

Twiggy and Pogo had both taken their places at each end of the long table, very nearly having a staring contest. Needless to say, John's question was ignored, and he promptly sulked over to Ginger to watch the unfolding scene with the rest of the people in the room.

As the seconds passed and neither men made a move, Marilyn slid silently into the room, his arms crossed over his chest, as he observed the trouble his lover had gotten himself into.

"Give me back my hair gel, Twiggy," Pogo demanded. The look on his face was terrifying. And it was a look that only seemed to encourage the bassist.

"But I need it, Pogo!" he cried, waving the bottle of hair gel in the air.

"For what? You've got dreadlocks!" The keyboardist sounded frustrated, and Abi wondered if he enjoyed having a taste of his own medicine.

"Did I say that's what I was going to use it for?"

Pogo dropped his gaze to the table and took a deep breath. When his eyes were once again placed on Twiggy, he looked considerably calmer. "Twiggy, if you don't give me my hair gel right now, I can guarantee that something very, very bad is going to happen to you."

"No, I think I'll just keep it," Twiggy smiled.

"No, I think you'll just give it back to me, because I fucking bought that," Pogo retorted. He raised his eyebrows and held out his hand once again. "You have five seconds, Twiggy."

"I just-"

"Five."

"Need it-"

"Four."

"You can have-"

"Three."

"It'll only take a sec-"

"Two."

"Pogo, just stop and listen to-"

"One."

As soon as Pogo finished his countdown, he was flying around the table at the bassist. Twiggy, however, had a look on his face that meant trouble.

"Stop right there, or I'll stick it in my pants!"

The keyboardist, suppressing the urge to ask what hasn't been in Twiggy's pants, glared and said, "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would," Twiggy said, the devious smile on his face showing that he really did intend to. Marilyn sighed, somehow feeling responsible for not ending this before it had even begun. The bassist hitched up his skirt slightly.

"Twiggy, stop!"

Pogo's shout was far too late, as Twiggy had already pushed the bottle into his underwear.

"I can't believe this," Abi sighed, sipping her coffee.

"It's like a damn role reversal. Twiggy's traded places with Pogo," Elizabeth pointed out as Pogo took a few seconds to orient himself.

By this time, nearly everyone in the hospital had clustered in the kitchen to see what on earth was going on, and why it sounded as if there was a wrestling match going on in the hospital. No one was surprised to see an exasperated group of girls watching Twiggy and Pogo have an argument over the least likely of subjects.

"Twiggs..." Marilyn finally sighed, running his hands through his hair.

The bassist looked at his lover, a pout forming on his face. "What is it?"

This was all the invitation Pogo needed. In seconds, he leaped through the remainder of the space separating him from his target and attacked Twiggy.

"Rape! Rape!" Twiggy screeched as Pogo yanked his legs out straight and sat on them. "Marilyn! Rape!"

The bassist's actions were futile. No amount of hasty swatting and prying would get Pogo off. The bigger man hiked Twiggy's skirt up around his waist and pulled the bottle of hair gel out of his underwear. He grimaced at it's unwanted warmth, then stood up. Twiggy scurried back into the wall, looking sufficiently disturbed.

"He raped me!" he shouted in disbelief, pointing wildly at Pogo. The keyboardist merely snickered and looked at the group of people who had gathered just in time to catch a full view of what lay beneath Twiggy's nightgown.

"Rape involves the act of penetration, if I recall correctly," Abi said emotionlessly. Twiggy stared at her, aghast, and wondered why she wasn't comforting him.

"But he still touched me!"

"Twiggy, just come here," Marilyn sighed. The bassist stood and, pushing his skirt down to cover himself, walked over to his lover.

"I win," Pogo announced haughtily, grinning all the while. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go fix my hair."

As soon as he was gone, the room was saturated in a heavy silence that no one dared to break. The eyes of all the people in the room were trained on the three girls as they awaited their reaction.

Finally, Abi sighed and set her empty cup down on the counter. She stared at nothing as she said, "Twiggy, I don't know what possessed you to do what you did. I don't think I want to know. But," she paused and turned to the bassist, "If you ever disturb my morning coffee again, I will personally make your life - and Pogo's, too, for that matter - a living hell. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Twiggy squeaked, wide-eyed.

"Good. Now I'm going upstairs, and I'm going to have another cup of coffee. And I will castrate anyone who bothers me."

___________

Much to the three girl's relief, they weren't bothered by anyone. In fact, they were even able to relax with their mugs of the hot, fully-caffeinated drink and watch as Twiggy and Marilyn cuddled together on their bed.

"I've forgotten how nice it is to do nothing already," Elizabeth sighed as kicked her feet up on an unused chair.

"It feels like it's been years since the last time we've been able to sit here like this," Abi agreed, not looking away from the one-way chalkboard in front of them. Iggy was simply content that she was able to make some hot chocolate and not be bothered. Not a single of the three girls were very keen on having to deal with anything in the morning, and they were already exhausted from Twiggy and Pogo's escapade.

Just as they felt that perhaps the two men had learned their lesson, a tendril of smoke came curling into the room from the small crack under the door. Elizabeth threw her head back and breathed in very deeply and prayed that the smoke wouldn't be there when she opened her eyes. However, she had never been good at telekinesis, and was disappointed to find it had only multiplied like rabbits in heat when she opened her eyes.

"I assume we're going to have to see where that's coming from," Iggy said just as a furious pounding sounded on the door.

"Come in," Abi called.

The door flew open, revealing Zim and more puffs of smoke. "You guys might want to come out here."

The three girls set down their mugs in near-perfect unison and followed Zim out the door. He had already acquired quite a following; the only people that hadn't joined his group were Pogo, Marilyn, and Twiggy, although Tim was retrieving the latter two. Abi peered through the halls that were slowly filling with smoke. Quite unsurprisingly, the source of the offending fumes were coming from Pogo's room.

"What in the name of... what's he doing down there?" she demanded, looking around at the group of men around her. The only response she got was from Twiggy: a quick, indifferent shrug.

"We should go find out, then, shouldn't we?" Ginger said. No one really enjoyed the prospect of having to see what Pogo had done, but they enjoyed the prospect of having their home burnt to the ground even less.

It only took seconds for everyone to make their way to the keyboardist's door. As soon as they got there, they made a half-circle around the door, waiting for someone to knock.

"Skold, I think you should do it," Abi said. The blonde looked at her with wide, terrified eyes.

"No, I-"

"It wasn't a question, Skold."

"It's just, I was thinking-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I'll just do it," Ginger said. Twiggy applauded him for stepping up before a glare from Marilyn caused him to stop. The drummer knocked on the door carefully.

"Pogs? You in there?" he called tentatively.

"Yes, I'm in here, Ginger. Where else would I be?" Pogo responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't know. Perhaps doing better things with your life than lighting fires in a hospital?"

Pogo laughed. "Oh, you're funny, Ginger. There's nothing better than this!"

Ginger sighed and lowered his head. After a brief moment, he asked, "Can we come in?"

"I don't know, Ginger. Can you?"

"I'm not fucking playing games, Pogo!"

"Grammar is not a game, Ginger. It is something we should all take seriously-"

Much to everyone's surprise, the drummer simply threw open the door. This revealed Pogo, who was laughing and feeding small pieces of paper into a fire that he had built out of some sort of metal box.

"I hate you, Pogo. I really do," Abi said emotionlessly.

"Oh, but Abigail, I just finished my mohawk! You can't hate me when I look so beautiful!" he snickered as he presented her a full view of his hair.

"Ooh, Pogo, I almost forgot to ask! How are the-" Twiggy was cut off almost immediately as Pogo leaped up and clamped his hand over the bassist's mouth. His eyes bored into Twiggy's questioning ones.

"We are not to speak of that yet, do you understand?" Pogo hissed fiercely. Twiggy nodded, and the hand was removed from his mouth. As everyone stared in wonder at the mohawked man, he took his place back in front of his fire.

"Pogo... what was that about?" John asked timidly.

"It was nothing. And it's best not to ask questions about things you don't want to know the answers to."

Just as he finished speaking, there was a small rustle in the closet that almost was drowned out by the crackle of the fire. The keyboardist's eyes went wide and he looked up at Abi sheepishly. She was the only person who looked furious.

"You'd best tell me what that was," she warned. The cold tone of her voice caused Skold to shudder, and he was brought back to the times when he had been scolded in such a tone by Elizabeth.

The keyboardist's response was simple: "Fuck."