As Quatre continued to sing as beautifully as nails on a chalkboard, and Duo played as lovely as a hippopotamus on the banjo, Trowa picked up Duo's fallen wig with his index and thumb and held it out in front of him like it was a squashed bug. Better yet, a live one. With many many legs.

Trowa cleared his throat.

"Erm...is this...yours?"

Duo blinked at the wig, then at Trowa, then looked at Heero and Quatre. Then he went cross-eyed and fell over backward onto his back (where anyone who falls over backward lands, of course) with his hands and legs tucked up and feet and hands in the air, his eyes squeezed shut.

Trowa inched back toward Heero. "Uhm . . ."

Ignoring the Willie Nelson love song Quatre was squawking in Trowa's direction, Heero tugged at Trowa's arm. "He's playing dead. He does that when he gets in trouble or a prank fails. Let's go, shall we?"

Trowa looked at the blond and nodded. "Let's."

Quatre sighed in disgust as the door swung firmly shut and nudged at Duo. "Get up; they're gone."

Duo sat up and ruffled his bangs. "Maybe next time, I sing and you play, ne?"

"I could have sworn humans liked Willie Nelson . . ."

End of Pt. 11

::Snurckles:: Damn it, why can't I write funny tonight? Garg. ::Giggles:: Anywho, there we GO!

Zoi

P.S. No offense to Willie Nelson or any of his fans, really truly. ^.~

(:./babaca/rr11)